The fullness shattered her composure when he bottomed out and immediately pulled back. As if he knew exactly what she needed, he pounded her fast and hard, unyielding.
And he didn’t slow. In fact, with every orgasm she screamed and gasped through, he moved faster, until eventually, each thrust dragged over sensitive nerves until she was raw, exposed, and in sensory overload heaven.
Only then, when her inner walls were raw and blazing, did he lean in, fangs grazing her neck before sinking in. He drank deeply before his venom flooded hot in her arteries, and the orgasm cocktail arced through her like molten lightning. She came unglued, walls spasming in violent waves, pleasure so extreme it took her breath. And all the while, his fangs no longer embedded in her neck, he kept fucking her, faster and harder than ever. And for him, she surrendered to the pleasure, to the pain, to everything he was giving her.
This ancient vampire who respected her mind and her strength, and who saw her as his partner.
He was relentless, the raw pleasure-pain blurring into ecstasy until he pulled out with a growl, coming hot across her ass in pulsing ropes. Staff appeared immediately with baby wipes, and Zander cleaned her tenderly, arranging her gown before standing her up, cool hands steadying her shaking legs.
“Thank you,” she whispered, voice husky, body humming. “I needed that in the worst kind of way.”
“You’re more welcome than you can possibly imagine,” he said, smile slow and predatory, eyes dark with satisfaction.
They returned to the floor, dancing and socializing as if nothing had happened — her secret ache a delicious reminder of the violent, relentless thrusts that’d left her raw and tender inside, while the night’s glamour swirled around them in fall colors and sensual jazz, with thedecadence of the silo on display in the form of naked flesh writhing in pain at the outer edges of the lavish, grand ballroom.
She relaxed in his arms in a roomful of predators, utterly certain he’d watch her back as well as his own. Only Zander and her father could give her this kind of security in a room filled with dangerous vampires — but her father protected her as a precious and fragile child, while Zander guarded her as an equal who chose to stand at his side, trusting she could be dangerous in her own right. It was the difference between being sheltered and being seen, and the realization made her throat tight. With Zander, she was exactly where she belonged.
She let herself sink into the music, into the steady strength of his arms, into the way his hand splayed across her lower back. The sounds around them muted, his vast power giving them a moment of privacy even surrounded by hundreds. Emmy focused on the people around them enough to continue dancing to the same beat.
“I know you’ve been busy,” Zander said softly, his chest vibrating under her cheek, “so my neglect hasn’t been a terrible burden, but we need to begin making at least a weekly appointment to nurture whatever it is we’re growing. Can you set your work aside for a few hours tomorrow?”
Whatever it is we’re growing.He wasn’t rushing her, wasn’t demanding labels or promises. Just acknowledging that this thing between the three of them was worth tending.
Emmy pulled back enough to meet his gaze, which was dark, intent, and focused on her.
“I can. We can arrange for a specific time, or if you want to play it by ear, I’ll need between fifteen and thirty minutes to tie up whatever thought processes I’m in, so I won’t be lost when I dive back in later.”
His thumb traced a gentle circle on her spine, and she felt the gesture all the way to her toes. And her clit. “Plan for two o’clock, then. I’ll arrive in the suite a few hours before. Spencer needs pain I haven’t had time to give him.” He paused, and something shifted in his expression — softer, more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him in public. “I’ll time it so we’ll be ready for you at two.”
We’ll be ready for you.Not just him. Not just Spence. But both of them, waiting for her, wanting her.
“Two o’clock,” she confirmed, letting her cheek rest against him again as they swayed. “I’ll be ready.”
His arms tightened around her for just a moment, a brief squeeze that felt like a promise, and then the sounds in the room returned, and they were simply dancing again, two people in a sea of predators, building something that felt surprisingly like home.
Chapter 17
Emmy’s earplugs and noise-canceling headphones meant she had no idea when Zander arrived, but around twelve-thirty, Spence screamed and pierced the muffled barrier of her concentration tracks. The sound sent a warm thrill through her, a pleasant interruption that made her smile, happy Zander was giving him exactly what he needed. She refocused on her work, the steady binaural sounds pulling her deeper into the data comparisons.
Her watch vibrated at one-thirty, signaling time to wrap up. She spent the next ten minutes wrestling the alignment of a particularly stubborn syntenic block that looked almost identical between the domestic rabbits and the wild cottontails — almost, but not quite. It was like laying two nearly matching maps side by side and hunting for the tiny differences that explained why certain crucial intersectionsnever quite lined up, blocking any clear path between them. She zoomed in on one suspicious section of chromosome 7, a spot where the genes seemed to swap places more often than they should, and marked the exact points where the sequences refused to merge cleanly.
Before closing the files, she jotted quick, careful notes for herself: cross-reference these breakpoints with known Dobzhansky-Muller incompatibility loci from mouse hybrids, the classic spots where two slightly different gene versions clash and render hybrids sterile. Then queue the variant calls for functional annotation, lining up all the tiny DNA variations for a deeper look at exactly what they actually do and, with luck, finally pinpoint the precise clashes that doom hybrid embryos. Then would come the next challenge: untangling the sterility barrier that had thwarted every hybrid attempt for centuries, but …baby steps. She looked back over her notes, added a reminder about transposable element insertions possibly masking incompatibilities, and was satisfied she’d left herself clear, precise breadcrumbs so she could dive straight back in without losing the thread.
She saved everything with a satisfied click, closed her laptop lid, removed her headphones and earplugs, and stood to stretch the long hours from her spine with five minutes to spare.
She considered using the five minutes to undress, but saw a post-it note on the door, and her dragon vision read it from across the room.
You are welcome to step inside and watch from a distance if you finish early.
Zander’s elegant script and thoughtful invitation made heat stir low in her belly, anticipation sharpening as she pushed the door open and stepped into the shadowed threshold, the soft creak of rope and Spence’s low, shuddering exhale drawing her like a magnet.
The sight waiting for her stole her breath, a visceral punch of beauty and torment that rooted her in place.
Spence hung suspended from the ceiling ring, naked and breathtakingly exposed, his body a living sculpture of surrender and suffering.
Thick hemp ropes wrapped his torso in tight, intricate diamonds, biting into skin already painted with deep bruises. Purple and crimson bloomed across his back from controlled impacts, likely from a brutally heavy flogger followed by a horsewhip, overlapping lines layered across pale flesh.
His ass and the backs of his thighs carried angry raised welts from a strap, and were crossed by deep-red, precise cane lines.
