Page 58

Luke gasped, flattened and pressed to Syrus, his own cock suddenly as deep as it could go.

And then Syrus was…undulating, moving his tail up and down and sideways, forcing Luke’s cock in and out of that tight heat without Luke doing a damn thing.

“Jesus fuck.”

Luke could only hang on, letting his hips move in time with Syrus as best he could, his hand caught between them, Syrus’s slick cock sliding with them. Blood was rushing between his ears again, and the air smelled of musk and sex and crushed mint. Syrus’s skin remained cool as ever, but Luke’s was hot and flushed and sticky with sweat.

All thoughts of balance and restraint went out the window. There was only this…mindless rutting, and Syrus’s fingers digging into his back, clutching tightly enough that Luke could absently feel the webbing between them—somehow he hadn’t noticed that before. He would add it to the list of things that should have been turning him off if he’d had any semblance of sanity left.

It was some sort of miracle that Syrus came first, his cock twisting and turning in Luke’s grip until a thick, milky fluid erupted between them. Syrus’s inner muscles spasmed and squeezed just as wildly as his cock, and Luke lost his head as he came, crying out louder than he ever had in his life as stars exploded behind his eyes and the world went dim around him. His body felt heavy and light at the same time, his head floating somewhere off on the horizon.

He had some absent thought, half-formed and not completely unwelcome, that if things were different, he would be the one breeding Syrus, his cum sucked so greedily into that hungry slit.

Luke’s cock jerked, spurting again weakly.

Oh fuck. Did he like that idea?

When the gasping and shuddering and shaking were over, Luke found himself lying prone on Syrus’s sprawled form, his head on Syrus’s smooth chest as Syrus stroked his hair tenderly, humming something that somehow made Luke feel even more spent and languid.

Luke made a noise, a kind of raspy grunt to let Syrus know he was more or less back in his right mind. Syrus’s humming paused.

“I told you, didn’t I?” In true Syrus fashion, the merman didn’t even attempt to hide the smugness in his voice. “None better.”

20

SYRUS

“What do you mean I can’t go with you?”

Syrus almost smirked at the indignant anger in Luke’s voice, but he held it back. Teasing Luke was one thing, but Syrus had no desire to rouse his real ire.

“I did not say you couldn’t, only that it would be unwise.”

Luke clenched his fingers tightly around the steering wheel, although he still hadn’t pulled away from the side of the road where they’d parked for Colby’s day care. “I may be human, and under six foot whatever-you-are, but I’m not fragile.”

“You are not,” Syrus agreed. “But you’re a father, and we don’t know how long this will take. Colby’s day care is only for so many hours.”

Luke deflated, if only slightly. “I could ask Shauna.”

“And if something were to go wrong?”

A harsh intake of breath. “You think something’s going to go wrong?”

Poor Luke. He was not fragile, not by any means, but he was…out of sorts. His nerves a bit untethered. And no wonder, with a mating dance such as theirs only half-performed.

Syrus sighed. Perhaps he was making an error in how he managed his priorities. But he couldn’t ignore what had happened to him, the violence that had brought him here on land. There were too many unanswered questions. How could he protect his new pod if he only knew half the story?

He glanced reflexively at the back seat. It was empty, of course—they’d just dropped little Colby off with his scarf-clad chaperone. Syrus placed his hand on Luke’s forearm. “Take me to the bakery, then.”

Luke frowned, then shook his head as he took on Syrus’s meaning. “I thought you didn’t trust vampires.”

“I trust them to be vicious if needed.”

Luke’s frown only deepened. “I’m not vicious enough for you?”

“Do you wish to be vicious?”

For a moment, it looked as if Luke might bare his teeth and growl in a distinct affirmative. But as Syrus met his gaze squarely, Luke’s features slowly lost some of their tension, and he held a hand to his forehead. “No. Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m usually more…composed.”