A garbled noise escapes my lips and flows into Damien’s mouth, who makes a sound of appreciation, when Arion’s mouth fastens to my neck once again.

It’s so much all at once that when my orgasm crashes through me, it wrings me out, and I end up crying out, unable to help myself.

Arion’s hips move faster, and he sucks at my neck harder, as Damien leisurely kisses up the other side of my throat, his body going still.

The loss of his touch is almost miserable, but he pulls out, leaving me in the hands of the vampire. The images in my head are cut off, and as Arion flips me to be under him, effectively caging me in.

Damien drops to a chair next to us, dropping a shirt to his lap, as the tent chills several degrees. Arion’s eyes are wild when he raises up from my throat, while he drives in and out of me.

Damien smirks, even though I only see it from my peripheral, because my main focus stays trained on the dark and devilish vampire. Arion’s brow is drawn down in concentration, and his fangs are biting into his lower lip.

Caught up in intensity, hunger, and danger in his eyes, pleasure crashes through me again. My back arches, and my cries are swallowed, because Damien’s mouth is suddenly on mine, as he drinks in every noise I release.

Arion releases a sexy, guttural sound, his hips stilling against me, as his head drops to the side of my neck. When Damien breaks the kiss, backing away with playful deviance in his eyes, while Arion groans.

“Damn you, Morpheous,” Arion says between pants of air.

“Sorry to rush you, Vampyre,” Damien says insincerely, as though they have an inside joke about whatever image Damien apparently forced on Arion. “However, it’s been twenty-eight minutes. You were taking too long, and you’re the one who said you couldn’t miss the event.”

Arion groans again, and for whatever stupid reason, I find myself smiling when he nuzzles my throat.

I feel lightheaded from all the blood he took, but it’s fading quickly and barely causing any discomfort. In fact, I’m entirely too comfortable.

“Can I ask where Vance went?” I ask, hearing Arion mutter a curse as he lifts off me, gingerly ghosting his lips against mine.

“I knew it’d be easier to wrangle an errant herd of ten thousand elephants than to keep a dozen Van Helsings here. Their sense of duty always wins out. Half of them have abandoned the event because of something important coming up. It’s the bloody curse,” Arion gripes. “Absolutely none of them would be so noble without it.”

He kisses me, as though he’s shutting me up, even though he was the one talking. I smile against his lips, mostly because he’s so reluctant to go.

“Be out there as soon as you’re dressed. I want you to see me destroy what’s left of the Van Helsings on the field,” he tells me with far too much excitement, causing my smile to immediately fall, replaced by a worried line.

“I thought tag was supposed to be a little gentler. And hide and seek is pretty scary too,” I confess, swallowing thickly. “Especially since five people have been stabbed.”

I didn’t realize how extreme monster sports could be, and I feel a little too naïve once again. It never feels good.

“Watch me knock Zuela to the ground and make him cry uncle,” Arion goes on, eyes truly glistening with pure anticpated joy.

He’s a blur of motion for less than three seconds. I blink on the fourth second. In the fifth second, his lips are on mine, almost branding me with a taste of lingering intensity for the next second.

In the seventh second, a breeze is the only thing still ghosting my lips.

“Fucking fast, vampire,” Damien says, his eyes comfortably roaming over me, as he leisurely pulls on his blue slacks.

My gaze rakes up the firm, lean muscles. His body is as uniquely beautiful as his unforgettable face.

“I don’t understand how people can forget you,” I tell him as he begins pulling on his white button-up shirt.

For whatever reason, the Morpheous men all wore their best suits. The women look ready for the runway. Some are wearing elegant dresses. Some are dressed in those classy jumpsuits.

“Is that so?” Damien muses, smirking over at me as he slowly buttons his shirt.

Pursing my lips, I study the lingering playful mischief still in his eyes.

“Why are you being weird?”

He blinks a few times, and his smirk turns into a genuine grin, as he laughs under his breath.

“I’m just pleased with how nearly effortless it was to make you both forget where we are and what we’re supposed to be doing. I rarely get my way so easily,” he confesses, giving me a smug look that has me rolling my eyes.

“You’re ruining the moment,” I grumble, finding my mascot uniform on the floor.

At least it’s not the slip of a dress anymore. His illusions are definitely more powerful lately.

“Do you know why you can’t understand what it’s like to forget me?” he asks as I go behind the changing curtain to clean up.

I definitely won’t be able to hide the fact I’ve had sex with a vampire and a Morpheous. Maybe I shouldn’t shake my ass anymore today. It may send all the wrong signals. I doubt it’ll appear innocent if I do it while reeking of sex.

Running a hand through my hair, I exhale and try not to overthink it. I’m wearing a mask and still hate all the attention on me. I don’t know how they handle all the eyes on them all the time.

“Because I’ve never forgotten you,” I say in response to him, remembering he asked me a question that is more important than my pointless insecurities.

The curtain pulls back, startling me, and Damien props at a lean against the doorframe.

His shirt is mostly unbuttoned, resembling the way he looked that first day I saw him.

“Because I’ve never allowed you to forget me. I took careful and strategic measures to ensure as much. For the most part.”

He’s staring a little too hard, and he’s definitely demonstrating an unusual amount of concentration.

“Seriously, what’s with you today?”

“Today is one of those rare days that hasn’t sucked nearly at all. I would even dare to say it’s been fun,” he tells me, his gaze finding mine and holding.

The warm, gentle touch of his hand barely startles me, as he cups my cheek and steps into me. My head tilts back so that I can keep the eye contact, and his grin grows.

“One might even accuse me, Damien Morpheous, of being happy,” he carries on, backing me up and caging me in against the wall. “It’s a foreign feeling, so distant a memory that I’ve forgotten. But I’m ninety-nine percent positive this is indeed happiness.”

I feel like an idiot when my grin nearly splits my face and actually hurts.

“You’re happy?” I ask, my voice cracking into a surprised squeak and only embarrassing me more.

“Almost positive,” he murmurs, his lips descending on mine, as he drags me closer and kisses me with what feels like appreciation.

“Absolutely certain of it now,” he says against my lips, only causing my grin to grow once again, until it’s impossible to keep kissing.

Fuck’s sake. I giggle.

I. Giggle.

I feel his smile against my lips, while he keeps our non-kissing lips against each other.

Eventually, he pulls back just enough for his eyes to meet mine. A seriousness is there, as he gently strokes down the side of my cheek.