Trey

Sheridan’s house isn’t a mansion, but to a kid who grew up in a double wide on the wrong side of the tracks, it might as well be. My scuffed boots tread the gleaming tile lightly even though there’s no one around but us. Her dad’s at work and her mom took her sister to Tucson for some all-day gymnastics tournament. I sort of hate being here, because I know her dad would kick my ass if he found me , but I think that’s part of the thrill for Sheridan. She likes the naughtiness of fucking under her parents’ roof, and I’m not gonna deny her a single fantasy.

I walk around her bedroom, examining the childhood treasures and young adult books. I see a paper tucked under her desk calendar, like it’s something secret, and I slide it out.

“Oh!” Sheridan catches sight of it at the same time I realize what it is.

An acceptance letter for college. From Stanford.

“Holy shit, Sheridan—why didn’t you tell me about this?”

We never talk about next year—about what’s going to happen when she goes to college and I stay here, peddling pot and working on motorcycles with Garrett and Jared. I’ve tried to bring it up a couple times, but she always clams up and changes the subject.

“Why haven’t you accepted this yet?” I see the blank form underneath the letter, the one she’s supposed to send back to confirm her place.

She snatches the paper away from me. “I’m not going.” Her brows are down. “I have a scholarship to ASU.”

“Yeah, but this is an Ivy league school, baby. You should be jumping on this.”

She narrows her eyes. “Why would I want to leave Arizona?”

My breath whooshes out of me, because—yeah—I don’t want her to leave the state, either. But I also don’t want her giving up her life for me. Or maybe it’s not for me. I guess I need to find out.

“Why wouldn’t you?” I challenge.

She’s breathing fast, her breastbone rising and falling, tempting my eyes toward her cleavage, but I don’t give in. “You.”

Fuck. She said it. I can’t stop the explosion of warmth in my chest, nor can I help the goofy grin that spreads across my face.

“Give me that.” I snatch the letter out of her hand and slap it down on the desk. Then I tug her arm to position her in front of it. She’s not expecting what happens next. Maybe I’m crazy to do it, but I push her torso down and smack her ass.

There’s a shocked gasp—maybe from both of us—and I don’t move. I guess I’m waiting to see if she turns around and punches me in the face. When she stays still, I smack her again, and again.

“That’s for not telling me you got into fucking Stanford,” I lecture her as I spank her, picking up the intensity as I gain confidence.

“And that’s for trying to deflect an incredible opportunity.” I kick her feet apart and slap between her legs. My cock is rock hard now and I’m fucking loving dishing out the discipline like this. “I will always be here, Sheridan. I’ll be here Christmas and spring break. And every holiday weekend. Or, hell—I’ll go there. I’ve always wanted to see California. The point is, I’m gonna wait for you. You already know there’s no one else for me. My wolf would never accept another mate. He picked you. You’re it.” The whole time I bare my soul to her, I’m spanking away.

I’m not worried about hurting her, because shifters heal instantly, so my only worry is pissing her off, and she doesn’t seem pissed.

I stop spanking and squeeze her ass.

“More,” she moans.

Fuck me.

As you wish, sweetheart.

I unbutton her shorts and yank them off, along with her panties, dropping to a crouch to help her untangle them from her legs. After I stand, I pepper her ass with slaps, varying my target so she never knows where the next one will fall—one time on the back of her thigh, the next on her other cheek, then her pussy. I slap until her ass turns rosy red and her pussy grows slick and swollen.

Then I pick up a pen and shove it between her fingers. “Fill out the acceptance letter.”

“No. I’m not ready to make that decision.”

I shove back the heaviness that threatens to descend. Believe me, I get it. Living apart from Sheridan would be the worst kind of suckage ever. But we’re talking Stanford.

“Fill it out. Send it in. You can always change your mind later.” Not that I’ll let you.

She gives an exaggerated sigh, still refusing to hold the pen I was pressing her fingers around.

I glance around the desk and snatch up a ruler from her pen jar.

“Fill it out, baby, or you’re going to get paddled.”

She laughs in my face. “Please. That won’t do much.”

She’s right. It was a thin little piece of wood. If I used it hard enough, it would probably break. Still, I take her words as a challenge and apply the ruler thoroughly, first to one cheek, then the other.

She squeals and shifts on her feet—I think it works. The ruler leaves cute red stripes. Too bad they’ll heal so fast—I rather like the idea of leaving marks on her. Something to remember me by.

“Fill it out.”

She laughs. “Okay, okay. I’m filling it out.”

I rub her reddened ass, squeezing roughly. My dick is so hard it’s going to break off and I already know this scene is going to be in my spank bank for years to come.

I pull a condom out of my pocket and rip it open while Sheridan checks the box and signs her name.

I pop her on the ass again twice, once on each cheek. “Put it in the envelope.”

She giggles and does as she’s told. I fucking love that she trusts me enough to let me dominate her this way, that she’s as turned on by it as I am.

I spring my erection and roll the condom on. “Now for your fucking,” I say, like it’s a punishment, too.

She hollows her back, lifts her blushing ass to me. Hell to the yeah. I push in, slow at first, but she’s plenty wet, totally ready.

Okay, then.

She’s going to get it hard.

“Keeping secrets from me has consequences,” I say, pushing her torso down further, until she’s flat against the desk. I press my hand to the back of her neck to hold her in place.

“Oh yeah? What are they?” Her husky voice nearly makes me jizz in the condom right there.

“You’re about to find out, sweetheart.” I grip her nape and use my hold to leverage myself back and into her again, slamming hard.

She grunts, then moans.

“You’re going to take it hard today, little wolf. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

She lets out a sweet little whimper and I continue to ram into her, slapping my loins against her hot ass, shoving her feet wider.

“Are you going to keep things from me again, baby?”

“Ugn, no,” she moans.

I piston faster. “That’s right. You’re not. Because now you know what happens.”

I’m feeling like a porn star, the kind who uses and degrades his partner in the worst kind of the way, but I can’t find it in me to feel bad, because Sheridan is loving the hell out of it. In fact, it’s hard to tell who’s getting off more—we’re both about to blow so hard the roof flies off the house.

Her sounds grow more urgent, cries more needy and stars dance behind my eyelids.

My thighs shake, balls draw up right. “Fuck, Sheridan, fuck!” I can’t stop the urge to fuck her harder, drill deeper, so deep she’ll remember me every time she moves.

“Please, Trey,” she moans.

“I’m going to come,” I warn, because there’s no holding it back now.

“Yes, come!”

I slam into her and shoot my load, and she shrieks, body convulsing beneath mine. I pull her torso up until her back meets my chest and pinch both her nipples while we both still come and come straight into tomorrow.

Like always before I shift, my vision domes, canines lengthen. If I don’t mark her soon, I’ll go fucking moon mad. But I hold strong for her. She’s too young. Her dad would kill me. I’ll wait until the time is right and we both agree. I grit my teeth and hold my wolf at bay, my muscles shaking with the effort.

When I have control, I squeeze her firm breasts and stroke my cock in and out. “That’s it, sweetheart. There’s no getting away from me. You could go to college across the Earth and I’d still wait for you. Or I’d come find you when you were done. You’re mine.”

“Mark me,” she whispers.

Fuck! My teeth descend further.

“Not yet,” I grit and pull out, not trusting myself to keep touching her when she’s tempting me so fucking hard.

“Why not?” She turns to challenge me.

I step back. “You need to be sure. Once I claim you, there’s no backing out.”

She pulls the collar of her t-shirt down to offer her shoulder for my bite.

“Baby,” I croak. I’m fucking dying here. My cock’s gone rock hard again, serum coats my teeth, ready to be embedded into her skin, to claim her as mine forever.

But this is just like the college thing. I’m not going to let her screw her future out of some eighteen-year-old’s impulse to mate the first guy she fucks.

“We’ll talk about it later.” I turn away from her, as if removing the sight of her beautiful face will somehow tamp down the wolf’s raging desire.

“I love you, Trey,” she says softly to my back.

I almost drop to my knees.

How this girl can simultaneously make me into a man and humble me is beyond me.

I whirl and throw her over my shoulder, carrying her to the bed. I have to claim her again. I’m not giving her my bite, but I sure as hell can’t keep my cock away from her.

Sheridan

The vampires’ club is tucked in El Mercado district, near the trolley stop, at the edge of their territory. A nondescript stucco building with nice landscaping and a pretty stone walkway. I’m there right at dusk, and sit in my car with the top up, watching the sun melt below the horizon in a storm of color.

The only thing to fear is fear itself. I tap my dashboard with my finger, readying myself to walk into the vampires’ stronghold. The fact that Lucius the leech king gave the invitation doesn’t reassure me at all. Vampires love their invitations—and they don’t need permission to get inside a victim’s head. Lucius wouldn’t have extended one if he wasn’t sure he held the upper hand. He’s up to something. Maybe it has to do with the mysterious black car I keep glimpsing on my block.

Someone knocks on my window and I jolt in my seat with a squawk until I meet Trey’s baby blues, my alarm reflected in their depths.

Trey gives me a concerned look as I roll down my window. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just, you know, nervous.” I don’t mention the mysterious black car sitting outside my house a couple times this week. After the story of my stalker, he might not take it well.

Trey opens my door and I hop out. He’s dressed in his usual biker guy outfit: another leather jacket, white shirt and black jeans with his wallet on a chain. His hair is spiked with fresh gel, and his boots slightly less dusty and scuffed than usual.

He’s scowling at me.

“What?” I look down at my chest. “ Do I have something on my shirt?”

“That’s not a shirt.”

“You’re right.” I fiddle with the zipper between my girls, tugging it down another millimeter before twirling on my Louboutins to give him the entire view. “I think technically it’s called a catsuit.” I smooth my hands down the sharp angle from my waist to my flaring hips, and strike a pose. “Meow.”

“Fuck,” Trey mutters. “Where do you get these outfits, anyway?”

“BDSM-R-Us.” I lean into him, inhaling his scent, a masculine mix of aftershave and motor oil. His arms go around me automatically. I can’t stop myself from wriggling closer. “Is that a lead pipe in your jeans or are you happy to see me?”

“Fuck me.” He holds me close, burying his face in my hair, and I’d wager he’s enjoying the mingle of our scents. I know I am.

“I got you something to wear,” I murmur.

“Oh yeah?” His breath wafts over my ear as he nuzzles my neck.

I step back and he lets me go, following me with a hungry gaze.

Then he sees what I pull out of the store bag. “Fuck no!” He jumps back as if I’ve Tazed him.

I hold up the leash and silver-studded collar. “No? It’ll go with your outfit,” I singsong, strutting on my heels as he backs away. “Actually, no. You need to be naked.” His groan deepens as I wave the bag at him, enjoying the results of my gag gift. “You don’t want to be my little doggie?”

“Really fucking funny.”

“That’s No, mistress,” I instruct with a smug smile.

With a growl, Trey advances. I back up, wide-eyed, as all six feet of him comes at me, horn-gry and looking like an avenging biker god. He snatches the leash and collar from my hand. “I’ll take this.”

“You’re gonna wear it?” My mouth drops open a little. I only got it as a joke.

He shoots me a look of pure menacing promise. “One of us is gonna wear it tonight. But it’s not going to be me.” He pretends to inspect the leather goods. The wickedness in his eyes sends zings straight to inner thighs. My knees wobble.

I may have pushed the wolf too far.

Trapping my gaze in ice, he pulls the store bag from my hand. “What else you got?”

“A-a, um, gag gift,” I stutter. “Literally.”

He holds up the red ball gag. “Nice.” He turns it over before pocketing it, along with the leash and collar. “Should come in handy.”

He catches my elbow right before my legs give out. “Let’s go.”

The last of the sun’s rays dive behind the mountains as we walk up to the club. A pale human greets us at the door, a black strip of ribbon tied around his neck. He’s thin and anemic, but good-looking in a boy band sort of way.

“Welcome to Club Toxic.”

I take my last breath of fresh air, the hair on the back of my neck prickling at the vampires’ scent as I step into their lair.

The doorman offers to take our jackets and I give him a toothy grin. “I don’t have one.”

Trey folds his arms over his chest, his glower a clear refusal. The human doesn’t balk—doesn’t show any expression really. I check his neck for bite marks but can’t see anything under the satin choker that seems to be a makeshift collar. Probably why he’s wearing it.

“We’re early,” Trey murmurs, looking around the empty dance floor. A few people sit in booths or stand at tall tables, but there’s barely anyone here.

“On purpose. I wanted to stake out our territory before a crowd shows up.” As we walk across the room, I stay as close to him as I can without actually leaning on him. He doesn’t seem to mind. The scent of vampires clogs my nose.

Trey takes a derisive sniff. “Smells like a dish drain.”

I almost laugh at that—the empty, earthy scent reminds me of a drain pipe, or a root cellar. Or a tomb.

The bartender—another human with a blank face and satin choker—pours us drinks without commenting on how early we are.

“Can you let Frangelico know we’re here?” I ask our guide. The pasty human blinks at us but nods and disappears into the back. “Did you see any fang marks on him?” I ask Trey in a whisper.

“No. But he could be a junkie. He smells wrong.”

Trey picks up his drink but doesn’t taste it. His gaze sweeps the room like a guard on the the lookout. “So this is a vampire club? Kinda boring.”

“We’re hours early.”

“You think Frangelico will meet with us?”

“Maybe. Or send one of his lieutenants. Julius Caesar or whatever.”

“Oh yeah.” Trey shakes his head. A group of people enter the club, and he straightens. We both fall silent, scanning each figure. They’re all thin and beautiful and plastic-looking, but none of them are vampires.

We stand in the corner for over an hour, pretending to nurse our drinks without actually touching them, and watch the place fill. At some point a DJ shows up and starts blasting the latest popular dance tunes. The floor swells with bodies bumping and grinding. “The leeches aren’t having any problem making this place popular,” Trey murmurs in my ear so I can hear him over the sinful beat.

“I wonder if any of them sense they’re prey,” I muse, my eyes following one particularly beautiful redhead. She’s freckled and curvy, with a sweetness I haven’t seen in any of the jaded crowd. A dark clad form slips out from the shadows, taking her hand and bowing over it. From my vantage point, I can’t see the man’s face, but the redhead looks up at him with an expression of awe tinged with lust. The tall man tucks her hand under his arm and guides her back towards the door, only to detour and disappear behind the coat check area.

“Trey.” I nudge him. “I think I know where the real action is.”

He follows my eyes. “Gotcha. Lead the way. I got your back.”

We set our drinks down and mosey across the dance floor. The crowd parts for us.

The human at the door doesn’t seem surprised to see us. “He’s expecting you,” he says politely, stepping aside to reveal a few steps leading down to another door, painted black to match the walls. The door yawns open, revealing a long set of stairs leading to some sort of basement.

I hide my disgust—how long was he going to let us wait before fetching us to the real Toxic, the club beneath the club?

“Stupid leeches, always playing games,” Trey mutters exactly what I’m thinking. His large hand on my back steadies me as we descend into the shadowy depths. The dark walls shake with the deep bass of the music above us. When we reach the bottom of the steps, we pause a second to let our eyes adjust. A purple neon tube runs around the room near the ceiling, shedding an eerie light. Dark shapes and monoliths loom out of the shadows.

Ahead, the pale skin of the redhead shines like a beacon. She’s like a wraith led by a black-clad emissary, summoning her to Hades. The suit holding her hands turns and I gasp as I recognize the vampire’s beautiful features. Nero smirks at me before guiding his human prey to a piece of heavy wooden furniture topped with shiny leather. A spanking bench.

“Fuck me,” Trey mutters, looking around the room. “Is this what you were expecting?”

“Yep,” I whisper. “Are you ready to use that collar?”

“Only if you’re gonna wear it,” he tells me. I bite my lip to hide the thrill singing through me. I seem to remember Trey has more than a bit of sexual dominance in him, ready to come out. Even as a teenager, he knew just what to do. The glint in his eyes tells me he sees my suppressed excitement.

More people come down the stairs, and we step aside to let them pass. Vampires ooze from the shadows of the dungeon, claiming their humans and leading them away. Throughout the room, tops start tying up bottoms, cuffing them or chaining them to the wall or available spanking horses and tables. The club music is broken by the sound of whips snapping, and the plaintive cries of the eager victims. None of the vampires are playing the role of submissive.

“This is nuts,” Trey comments, but his voice is deeper, thicker. I nod, glad no one can see how tight my nipples are, how hot and flushed my lower belly feels.

“Welcome, wolves,” a smooth voice behind us has us whirling, and lips curled back in a half snarl. Lucius the leech king stands in a spotlit corner, posing in front of a giant portrait of himself. He looks like freaking Dorian Gray, wearing the same sinful smile and red velvet robe as his painted image.

“Hello,” I say before Trey can growl or bark or insult our host. “Thank you for inviting us in.”

“You are always welcome here, my dear,” he purrs, like the lecherous villain in a bad movie. The only thing he’s missing is a pipe and Playboy twins.

The vampire king glides forward and I have to force myself not to step back. At my side, Trey growls. Lucius moves just another inch closer to me and stops, making it clear that he’s not intimidated by Trey. “You asked me about sweetblood.”

“Yes.” I stare at the lapel of his velvet robe.

“It is not a drug, although we vampires find it intoxicating. Look there.”

We follow his pointing to the wall, where a vampire in black slacks and shirt sleeves—his sleeves rolled up to present taut forearms, flogs a wilting woman. The leather strands snap and fall, followed by moans. She doesn’t sound like she’s in pain.

“There is a certain type of person who enjoys pain, yes?” The vampire’s voice echoes right in my ear, sounding like he’s standing much closer than he is. “The body has ways of rewarding such stoicism.”

“Endorphins,” I agree. My thoughts feel sluggish. Older vampires can control with just their voice. My hand fumbles at my side, finding Trey’s, I squeeze his fingers tight. He squeezes me back and my mind clears.

“Yes. For such a reward, some people crave the pain. You call them masochists.” Lucius nods at the woman at the wall. Her vampire top has switched out the flogger for a longer, evil-looking whip. I can smell her arousal from here. “We call them sweetbloods.” His voice drops to a haunted whisper. “The pain makes the blood sweeter.”

After a snap of the single tail, the woman droops in her bonds. The vampire glides to her side, and runs a hand down the fresh red marks on her side. The submissive shudders and the vampire steps close, murmuring softly. He unhooks the cuffs and supports her sagging body. With one arm he holds her up as the other brushes the hair back from her face and neck and draws her close. The light glints off his fangs.

I gasp and turn towards Trey, breathing hard.

“Sheridan,” Trey’s voice is blast of fresh air, sweet and bracing. His arms slide around me, holding me up like the vampire held his victim. “You all right?”

I nod, tipping my head back so he can see my expression. His worried look clears. “You like it.”

I nod, and he touches my face in wonder.

Lucius’ laugh echoes around us. “I will leave you to explore my little club. Enjoy.”

I don’t turn to watch him leave, but I know the moment he’s gone. The vampire/victim couple has also disappeared, maybe into one of the curtained alcoves that line the room.

Trey still holds me close. “If this is too much, we can go.” His chest rumbles under my ear.

“I’m all right.” I give him another squeeze. He’s so warm and strong, a living rock.

“You sure?”

“I’m all right,” I repeat. “I want to stay.”

His gaze searches my face, and I flinch away. I don’t want him to see this side of me, raw and vulnerable. I push away from him, but he keeps his arms locked around me.

“You can go if you want to,” I mutter, and his gaze turns cold.

“I’m staying.”

“You sure?” I mimic his question from a moment before. I’m mocking him because I don’t want him looking too closely. I don’t want him to see how much all this stuff turns me on.

The expression on his face tells me he already knows.

“Trey, let go of me,” I whisper.

“You sure?” He’s not mocking me. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, and I realize I’m hanging onto him, tight.

Oops.

When I step away from Trey, I find Nero standing close, too close to me.

“Hello, little wolf,” he says and I stiffen. Trey’s arm slides around my waist, but I step away from him before he can pull me back into his chest. It’s time I face the vampires on my own two feet.

What doesn’t kill me...

“I’m not afraid of you,” I blurt, raising my chin in the air.

“Of course not. I can smell you from here. You smell...good.” He makes it sound obscene. “You like this place.”

“It’s growing on me,” I answer.

“There is much to enjoy.” Nero grins, showing fang. There’s no sign of the redhead he came down here with. I wonder if she’s in an alcove, resting, a glass of orange juice and bar of chocolate waiting nearby. Aftercare for a BDSM scene or a vampire feed?

Nero runs his hand over the leather padding of a raised bench. “I will be your guide, if you wish it. Virgil to your Dante.”

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here?” I quote Dante’s Inferno and the vampire’s grin widens.

“Exactly. Are you ready to come with me?”

Before I can answer, Trey growls. “Over my dead body.” Trey steps between me and the vampire. “Do you want this?”

I freeze when he holds up the collar. “Do you want to try this? Scene here?”

“Trey,” I whisper.

“Sheridan.” His tone warns me not to play. “Tell me.”

“Yes.” Yes, I want to try this. “But not with you.” Not after last night. I’m way too raw to offer myself up to him again only to be led to my car and told goodnight. No, it’s better not to get sexually involved with Trey. More sexually involved, that is.

“Not an option,” he growls and backs me to the wall, blocking me from anyone who might approach. “What’s your safeword, sweetheart?”

I lick my lips. Crap. My body is already surrendering. It already knows its master. “Spreadsheet.” I’m a finance major and an MBA, and I take accounting seriously. Any talk of work will pretty much kill the mood.

He shakes his head, smirking in a way that I know means he gets the joke. I draw back as he gets close, but after a moment lift my hair and let him buckle on the collar. Trey runs a gentle finger around my neck to check the fit and I’m helpless, legs turning to liquid, core molten, lips parting to welcome his as I stare into his eyes.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, and dips his head close enough to whisper in my ear. “You didn’t buy this collar for me, did you?”

Swallowing, I shake my head. He leads me forward, then turns and backs me into a sturdy frame. The wooden limbs of a Saint Andrew’s cross spread over my head, a heavy piece with silver studs and leather padding, and cuffs dangling at ankle and wrist height.

Trey secures one arm, then the other, and kneels to tie my legs. Beyond him, Nero watches, his face in shadow.

When Trey rises, my stomach flip-flops at the aura of command enveloping him. Like he flipped a switch, and instead of moonbrained biker dude, I have Trey The Dominant, ready to Rock. My. World.

“Trey, wait,” I say as he reexamines the cuff.

He pinches my fingertips, checking my circulation. “You feel okay?”

“Yes.” I squirm. I have dreams of being tied up like this, but I don’t want Trey doing it. I mean, I’ve fantasized about him doing it, but now that’s happening, I want it to stop. Don’t I?

“Wait a second,” I beg as he checks my other hand. “Let’s stop and talk about this.”

Trey hesitates, frowning. “You want to stop, give me your safeword.”

The word spreadsheet rests on the tip of my tongue. I just have to say it, and I’ll be free. I can leave Trey and the club behind, go home and get myself off to the memory of this for the rest of my life. That’s what I want to do, right?

After a long silence, Trey murmurs, “Yeah, I thought so. Say your safeword and this stops. Otherwise, we’re doing this. You want this. I know you do.”

“Let me go,” I hiss.

He shakes his head slowly. “No way, sweetheart. Not when I have you right where I want you.”

Trey

I don’t have my own implements. I notice the other doms are carrying duffel bags with equipment, so I make do. I pull my leather belt from the loops and wind the buckle end around my fist.

Sheridan stares with wide eyes, half-nervous, half-thrilled. My wolf is actually calmer than I would expect—it’s like he senses the danger here, knows I need to keep my head.

Thank fuck, because her scent is driving me wild.

Sheridan looks sexy as hell in her skin-tight leather outfit, and as much as I’d love to watch her skin turn pink under my leather belt, there’s no way I’m going to let any asshole here see her naked. I sort of like the idea of her having the layer of protection, anyway. I would die if I actually hurt her.

I wind the belt until less than a foot remains and then step in front of her. Her glorious tits rise and fall as she pants, irises changed from green to amber. “Beautiful wolf,” I murmur and slap the belt across the front of her thigh. She jerks, but smiles.

“Again.”

I run my thumb over her lower lip. She nips at it. “Cute, sweetheart, but you’re not in charge. I’m the one giving the orders tonight.”

Her eyes dilate and she tosses her beautiful head. I stand back to survey her with an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, then smack the belt right up between her legs.

She squeals, her body going rigid against the cross, then sagging. Her belly trembles on her exhale.

I slap her inner thigh, several times, then move to the other side.

The little sounds she makes nearly kill me. I’m getting dizzy and drugged myself, which isn’t good.

Keep your head. Stay cool.

I want to tear open that sexy catsuit and fuck her right against the cross. And you’d better fucking believe I bought condoms today. I lunge into her, squeezing her breasts roughly as I claim her mouth.

She moans against my lips, nipping and licking like she’s frantic for more.

I back up, depriving her of the satisfaction she craves.

Another slap between the legs. The sound of the leather smacking leather is delicious. I whip her pussy again, and again.

“Harder,” she moans. She appears completely drugged. I can see how a woman in this state might taste different to a blood-sucker. She’s definitely high. But I swear to the fates, if any of them come near this wolf, I will kill them all, and start the war to end all wars.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nero hanging around, watching the scene. I bare my teeth and growl, warning him back, but he merely throws back his head and laughs.

“Trey,” Sheridan mewls. Need drips in her voice.

“Not yet, baby. I’m not done whipping your front side yet. And when I finish, I have to turn you around and warm your ass. You’re lucky you’re wearing that catsuit and I’m too fucking possessive to let anyone see you without its protection.”

She licks her lips, her glassy gaze tracking my face. “And then?”

I give her a toothy grin. “Then, I’ll think about letting you come.”

She growls and fights the restraints, some of her submission ebbing. I laugh and slap up each of her inner thighs again.

I smack her pussy. “You want more of my belt here, little wolf?”

She rolls her head from side to side, chest heaving. “Yes! Fuck, Trey.”

My eyes bug out of my head. “Holy shit! You said it.”

She leans forward, straining at the bonds. “I said it. Now you do it.”

I laugh in total wonder, reward her with a hard, demanding kiss. I cup her mons with my free hand, apply firm pressure in undulations.

Her breaths grow even shorter, quicker. “Please, Trey.”

“And to think, all you needed was a little sexual stimulation.”

She tries to nip my lips. “Stop teasing. I need it.”

I arch a brow. “Need what, beautiful?”

“This. More. You,” she moans. “I need it all. Please, Trey.”

I reach up and release her wrists, then her ankles. I turn her on the cross and press her face first against the padded front. I replace the restraints and she waggles her hips, like she’s trying to get relief by rubbing against the cross. It’s damn near the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Naughty girl,” I scold and whip her across the ass. I can tell she loves it because she hollows her back and sticks her butt out for more.

I let out a little more slack in the belt and whip her again and again, concentrating on the lower half of her ass, then working down each individual thigh.

Her moans grow louder and faster, like she’s going to come just from being whipped. My cock surges against my jeans. My vision starts to dome and my teeth lengthen, ready to mark her. Fuck, I may not get through this.

I glance over at the leech in the shadows again to regain my head. It helps. I draw a slow inhale in through my nostrils and keep steadily whipping Sheridan’s ass, when her cries reach a desperate pitch, I whip between her legs.

She chokes on a breath.

I whip again.

A keening mewl.

Another thwap against her clit.

She shrieks and her muscles seize up, a glorious shuddering running through her luscious form.

“That’s it, baby.” I drop the belt and slap with my hand—only because I need to get close to her—need to feel those muscles squeezing as she comes from her pussy whipping. I slap and slap—light, quick smacks until she tumbles down the other side of her release and goes limp, sagging into her bonds.

The moment I see it, I work her free of the bonds and wrap my leather jacket around her shoulders. “That’s it, baby. You were so beautiful.” I swing her up into my arms, ignoring the hungry stares of the leeches around us.

I don’t give a shit about pack-vampire relations or our mission to spy right now. I just need to get Sheridan out of there. Take her home and put her to bed.

Naked.

With me on top.

Sheridan

I’m drunk on endorphins for the entire ride home—I hardly notice that Trey’s put me in the passenger side of my car and took my keys to drive. When we get out, I throw my head back, like I’m in wolf form and am going to howl at the moon.

The moon bathes me in her beauty—she’s full and lush, her feminine power amplifying mine.

Trey’s eyes glint silver, too, and I suddenly can’t believe he’s never marked me. Our wolves were made for each other. How could we have denied it all these years? I lunge at him, twisting his shirt up in my fingers, smashing my lips over his.

He stumbles back, a surprised chuckle puffing between us, then yanks me up to straddle his waist. I bite his neck, lick his ear, rub my breasts against his chest. Somehow, he gets us inside and then we tear at each other’s clothes. I shred his shirt. He yanks my catsuit off me. His jeans and boxer briefs come off.

My skin is still warm and tingly from the whipping he gave me back at Toxic, the pulse between my legs insistent. He advances, tall, naked, potent. Tattoos curl around his forearms, over his shoulders and across his chest. His cock stands out, huge and erect.

I reach for his cock. It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex—twelve years, to be exact—but my body remembers. My body knows.

Trey catches my wrist before I can grasp his length. With his other hand, he fists my hair and tugs my head back. “Careful, baby,” he rumbles, bringing his lips to my jaw. “You get me too excited, and it will all be over before we start.”

I give a shaky laugh. Trey shifts to hold me around the waist and he walks with me to the bed, tumbles me down with him on top.

I can’t wait. I don’t want to go slow. I pull him to me, over me, my nails sinking into his back. His cock prods my entrance and I rock my hips, trying to help him in.

“Wait...hang on,” Trey chokes. He backs off me and retrieves a condom from the pocket of his jeans. I pinch my nipples and toss my legs around on the bed while I wait, which pulls a distinctly animal-like snarl from his lips. He rips the foil open with his teeth.

Will he mark me?

I can’t even think it, and yet goosebumps race over my skin as I watch his canines lengthen, the silver glow of his wolf eyes. On some level, I know this is it—he won’t hold back.

I’ve tried his self-control too many times.

He sheaths his cock and I climb up on my knees to meet him, but he pushes me back. He holds his thumb over my neck, not choking me, but holding me down.

Showing me who’s in charge.

My knees spread wide and I take him into the cradle of my legs. He rubs the head of his cock over my slit and I arch up, sucking in a shaky breath. I’m so freaking sensitive right now, I swear to the fates I could come again, just from him talking to my clit.

He pushes at my sopping entrance, stretching me as I take the head in. I draw in a sharp breath when he spears me in a single thrust and he freezes.

“Were you ready, baby?” His concern nearly makes me weep. He’s the same tender, thoughtful man he was twelve years ago when he first took my virginity.

I grab his ass and hold him in as I get used to his size. “Yeah, I pant. It’s just been awhile.”

Understatement.

My eyes slide to the side but when I sneak a peek back at his face, he’s staring down at me with an intensity I can’t look away from. I rock my pelvis up to move him inside me.

“There’s never been another for me.” His voice is rough and deep. He holds my gaze as he eases out and slams back in.

I gasp at the intensity of it—both his words and his thrust. “You mean...you never loved anyone else?” I’m trying to make sense of what he’s trying to tell me. He can’t be talking about sex, right? No male stays celibate for twelve years.

His upper lip twitches in a snarl as he jacks back and in again, stealing my breath. “Loved. Fucked. Dated. Only you.”

It’s ridiculous, but uncontrollable. I burst into tears.

Because… Trey.

My Trey.

He’s still mine. Never wasn’t mine.

“What about—” I don’t want to, but I have to ask.

He gives a quick shake of his head, changes his rhythm to short, hard thrusts. “I had to. To make you leave. You were supposed to go to college. Make something of your life.”

I’m fully sobbing now, and yet somehow still completely in sync with the sex, still needy for it, turned on by it.

“I’ve never been with anyone else, either,” I confess on a sob. I match the rocking of my hips with his thrusts, take him deeper. “It was only you for me, too.”

“Fuck,” Trey curses, closing his eyes, the veins standing out on his neck as he hammers into me faster, harder. “Fuck, Sheridan. I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you, too. I was such a bitch.”

Time slows. Rearranges. Or else we enter into no-time. All I know is the delicious slide and smack of his thrusts, the sensation of being filled and emptied, and all the while deeply held, revered, honored.

There’s magic sparking between us. Our wolves are meeting on the same level as our human selves—perfectly matched, perfectly in tune.

And then he roars, bucking so hard my butt bounces off the bed with each rebound, ramming the bed into the wall.

There’s a snarl and a sharp, satisfying pain.

The scent of my blood mingled with the scent of his essence. My arousal. Sex.

Marking.

Love.

The scent of love.

He falls down onto me and I sob into his neck—happy, glorious sobs.

He claimed me. He never meant to hurt me.

I’m finally where I belong. Where we belong.

Together.

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