If we all die, no one will care that Malach wanted to be part of my blood circle, but I care. It matters to me. It matters a whole bloody lot.
My fingers sink into his curls to hold his head still. He’s squirming and panting now, and I don’t want to tear his skin by accident. I’m the one getting something tangible from this exchange, the least I can do is make it pleasurable.
When I’m full, I pull my fangs free and lick the wound. “That’s enough,” I tell him. “Thank you, Malach, I feel much better.”
He moans as he nods; fingers spasming around the lip of the sink. Curls wild. Cheeks pink. Pupils dilated. Fuck. He’s wrecked.
“Celine,” I call, raising my voice enough to make sure she hears. “Can you come in here for a minute, angel?”
The door opens and closes, and I meet her worried brown eyes in the mirror and smirk. “Malach could use a little help, I think.”
Her concern melts as she takes in Malach’s glassy eyes and hard cock. Without hesitating, she puts her hand on his knee and meets his gaze. “Can I touch you?”
He nods, looking half drunk, and I ignore my own erection. I’m not attracted to Malach, although I know he’s an attractive guy. But a non-fatal vampire bite almost always comes with some sexual side effects.
I won’t touch him. Neither of us want that, but I also don’t want to leave.
Celine slips her hand into his sweats, and he groans. Standing abruptly, he bats her hand away, drops his pants, and reaches for her. “I-I need?—”
“I’ve got you,” she whispers. Dressed in nothing but a T-shirt and panties, Celine bends over the sink and pulls the crotch of her underwear to the side. “Take what you need.”
Like he’s in a trance, Malach lines himself up and pushes inside her.
Her groan is indecent.
I lick my lips, captivated by the way her ass bounces as he fucks her. I took a lot of his blood, so I don’t expect him to last long. When he talks to her in thethatshalanguage, she gasps, pushing back against him until they’re both grunting and moaning with each thrust.
As soon as Celine comes, Malach explodes, squashing her against the sink, his arm wrapped around her waist, protecting her from the full brunt of his weight.
Celine smiles at him in the mirror, her expression soft and unguarded.
Maybe I should be jealous, but I don’t have it in me right now. This feels right. And if anyone deserves her softness, it’s Malach, the angel who spent most of his life loving her.
She turns, kissing him gently, then meets my gaze. “Are you good?” she asks me.
I glance down and shrug. I’m still hard, but I can handle it later.
Celine laughs. “No, I meant are you going to be sick?”
I shake my head. “Malach was right.”
She smiles at him affectionately. “Of course, he was. Malach is always right.”
The walls of the house shudder again, and the easy calm fades from her expression. “I want breakfast on the balcony this morning,” she says. The normal, almost whimsical, sentence is at odds with the tightness around her mouth.
I will my erection to go down and follow her out of the bathroom. S’lach ruined the moment, and for that alone, he deserves another death sentence.
FORTY-NINE
Traditionalnish thatshabetrothal vow:
As eachnishbuilds on top of the others, so too shall I support you.
MALACH
“I should have packed a sniper rifle.” Celine rips into a slice of toast with bared teeth while stroking the pistol with her non-dominant hand. She glances at Ciprian. “What do you think the range is on this thing?”
He shrugs, eyes gleaming malevolently as he looks out at the gate. “No clue, but I swiped it from Quaid. Knowing him, it’s top-of-the-line.”
