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Her weight is nothing to me as I head for our suite; she’s not small but dense with magic, muscles, and a scent so saturated with life and change that it threatens to drive every rational cell in my body extinct. Her new Fae attributes are a work of art—pointed ears that twitch with every air current, and luminous skin that shimmers with glyphs and wounds that gleam when caught by candle or moon. Her eyes have spirals of Fae magic in their pupils, alive with a hunger I have only ever seen in the wildest of species.

I have no idea what that means, but it’s very different from the prince, and I believe it is important to her heritage and the future.

Love flows through me, as it does the others, but what I am experiencing in this moment is nothing as gentle as that. This is bloodlust, desire, and veneration—all wrapped in a thorned wire that will make us both scream. Vampires are rough when a mate is claimed, but I know from her behavior in a group and with my co-mates that Fiadh will enjoy this rather than fear it. I will still set the boundaries I believe in so deeply, but it will be difficult given my demon’s push against the man internally.

The castle is a blur—obsidian doors that ripple with illusion and servants flattening themselves against walls as I pass. Even the guards look away; the few that see the carnage in my eyes know better than to stop me. Doing so would write their deaths in advance, and I’m sure they can see that. Their heartbeats are loud in my ears, but hers is louder, erratic from the power still coursing through her. I welcome that, even if it burns, because I want to ensure we’re so entwined that we cannot be separated. It will be the greatest joy of my long life and the culmination of everything I’ve done since I left my coven.

Fiadh shifts against me, struggling a bit as people stare at us, but I lock her in place with a palm to her thigh. The new mark on her hand burns like a coal against my shoulder, and each time it pulses, I swear, the entire castle shudders. I do not slow down until we arrive at the suite we were dumped in so many hours ago.

The door is locked, so I kick it open, enjoying the splintering wood and the way it echoes up and down the corridor. I stride inside, ignoring everything but the enormous, elegant bed full of pillows and shit that will get knocked off quickly.

She’s wriggling now more vehemently, her voice sharp. “Put me down, Dezi. I can walk, and you’re acting like a⁠—”

I toss her onto the mattress, just hard enough to bounce her and just soft enough to keep from breaking her further. She rolls and lands half-cocked on the sheets, hair a tangle of ultraviolet and black, chest rising and falling in heaves. There’s nothing in the world as beautiful as the look she gives me then, all venom and curiosity and need.

Without speaking, I smirk at her, letting her see what she’s done to me as her eyes rake over my form. My fangs are fully extended, so sharp they slice my own lower lip. Eyes that once made courtesans faint and monsters tremble are pure crimson—no humanity left in them as the demon rides me. I remove my coat, carefully and put it on a chair reverently, as if this moment is all that’s ever mattered.

I want Fiadh Morgenstern to know that this moment is one that we will never forget.

Stalking over like the predator I am, I wait for her to realize that she is now my prey. The witchling watches my every move; her senses are as heightened as mine, so she sees the twitch in my jaw and the slight hesitation as I wrestle with the last of my control. It’s important for me to keep the demon in check—I have seen what happens when a vampire takes his mate in the grip of blood-hunger and unfiltered need. It ends in tragedy, so I will not give him all the freedom he wants.

I drag a single nail down the buttons of my shirt, releasing each with a click that’s almost obscene in the silence. The mark on her hand flashes at me with each popped fastener. By the time I stand at the edge of the bed shirtless, every scar on my body glows in response to hers. She sits up, her eyes so wide I can see the galaxy in them, and I chuckle darkly.

“Wh-What is happening? Why are you glowy?”

I lower myself just enough to be within reach of her hands. “I have been restraining myself since the moment I met you, witchling. But seeing you like this—transformed, powerful, marked by magic—I find my control... slipping.”

I let the words hang, aware of how much truth is in them.

She’s trembling, but not with fear. Reaching for my wrist, she holds it with both hands, her expression reflecting the hunger she has to see in my eyes. “Then lose it,” she whispers, and bares her own fangs back at me.

Oh, that is such a bold move, my witchling, because I could never deny you.

Losing myself immediately, I let her pull me down with both hands. My sharpened nails dig into her skin, but I feel hers do the same on my shoulders. It’s as if she intends to mark me as deeply as my demon wants to mark her, even though she has no experience with this form. I allow it because I need it; the ingrained instincts of my vampire-self want it so badly that I’m hanging onto my one thread of control with strength she can’t imagine.

The bed is enormous, but it feels like falling onto a battlefield as we come together. Fiadh isn’t waiting for me to take the lead; she’s already wrestling me out of my pants, teeth flashing as her breath comes in fiery bursts on my skin. Every time I brush against her, the glyphs and moons and strange sigils on her skin flare blue-white intensely enough that it sears into my vision. The effect makes my hunger worse, so much so that I nearly tear her top off with a single, ugly rip.

They’ll give us more clothes, I’m sure. If not, I’ll fucking eat court members until they do.

Underneath me, her body is soft in some places, deadly hard in others, and mapped everywhere by the trial’s ultimate cruelties. The marks pulse when I stroke them, and in their glow I see a story that we need to learn… just not now. My witchling has never looked so submissive and so defiant at the same time, even on the magical bus. I fucking love it, and so does the demon inside—we can’t wait to fight for dominance.

“Everyone is going to be laughing at me, you know,” she snarls, pretending to be angry, but she’s smiling wickedly. Hooking her legs around my waist, she uses the leverage to roll us before I can respond, and I blink up at her. She’s straddling me, grinding over the open trousers she hasn’t gotten completely off yet. The move was so quick that it actually surprised me, and that new ability makes every inch of me go wild.

Fiadh may move with me in the blur of my vampiric speed, and I find it insanely appealing.

I let her pin me for a moment out of respect and delight. She runs her hand down my chest, stopping over my heart. Looking me dead in the eyes with pupils spiraling wider with magic, she smirks. “Are you going to bite me, or are you going to make me beg for it?”

I try to speak, but the words come out as a hiss of need. That’s supposed to come after we have sex, but taunting my thirsty demon is going to bring it forward. “Witchling, we should⁠—”

She leans in, so close her lips graze my ear, and whispers, “Do it, Dezi. I want to feel it and be able to do it back. Give it to me.”

No one has ever successfully commanded me so easily but my sire, and I’ll never share that with anyone else.

Using vampiric strength, I roll her back under me. This time, I pin her wrists above her head and bare my fangs, lowering them to the exposed skin at her throat. Fiadh tenses in a natural reaction to the motion, but I hold her in place as I wait.

I want her to want this so much that it makes my balls ache. Her pulse hammers against my lips as she relaxes once again, and murmurs the words I need to hear in my ear.

Absolute joy.