Chapter 7
The sharp fangs piercing my skin were the only thing that kept me from falling under. How I recognized it for what it was, I couldn’t rightly say. I mean, I’d never been bitten by a vampire. And it wasn’t as if I was operating on all cylinders.
Whatever the reason, I knew right quick that Miguel was biting me, and as much as I’d wanted that very thing, I couldn’t let him do it, couldn’t let him sacrifice himself for me. Particularly because it was a hopeless cause. If I didn’t die that day, I’d die soon after. The affliction that had plagued me all my life was at its worst, and I knew there was no way for me to survive it. But I refused to take my mate down with me.
“No,” I managed to say as I tried to wiggle away from him. “Poison.”
He tightened his grip on one arm and held my head in place, but at least he pulled his mouth back. “Stay still, wolf,” he demanded.
I wanted to refuse, wanted to stop him, but I wasn’t strong enough to put up much of a fight when I was at my healthiest. At my weakest, I didn’t stand a chance.
“There’s too much blood. I’ll spit it out, but we need to release it.”
He leaned forward, his fangs once again touching my skin. I’d seen him bite some of my pack mates and pull back right away, preventing much blood from getting into his mouth and spitting out the rest. That hadn’t damaged him, so I expected this wouldn’t either. With that thought in mind, I ceased struggling.
Though I’d tried to stop him, there was no denying how much I craved what was coming. I stretched my neck and went loose in his arms, giving him complete dominion over me. This time, when his fangs sank into my skin, I moaned and arched up, trying to get closer instead of pulling away.
It didn’t hurt, which surprised me. Even more unexpected was the overwhelming arousal that washed through me when Miguel started drawing the blood out of my veins with strong, long sucks.
“Oh!” I cried out. “That’s… Oh, oh, oh!”
There were no words to describe what I was feeling. My body was hot and shivery all at once. Every square inch of skin felt hypersensitive. And the exquisite release as my blood was pulled from my body was akin to having every single vein stroked.
I clutched his shoulders, digging my fingers in, holding him close as I moaned and cried and begged him not to stop, never to stop. And when one of his hands made its way into my pants, my shouts of joy ricocheted off the walls in the huge room as I pulsed over and over, coating his palm and my drawers with more seed than I would’ve thought possible.
When my hips finally stopped thrusting, my seed no longer spilling, I grappled with his pants and released his erection. Hard, so hard. The skin was smooth, and his member fit perfectly in my palm. I moved my hand over him as if I’d been doing it all my life, as if giving him pleasure was the most familiar thing I knew. I squeezed his testicles, rubbed my thumb over his crown, and made my way up and down his pole, trying to give him the same joy I’d just experienced.
All the while, Miguel continued stroking me, inside and out, with his hand in my pants and his fangs in my throat. He had kept me hard, kept me wanting, and when I heard his muffled groans and felt slick pre-ejaculate seep from the head of his erection, I knew I’d shoot right along with him.
It could have been seconds or it could have been minutes. There was no way for me to know because time stood still, and all I felt, all I heard, all I smelled was my mate. I was consumed by a sense of all-encompassing rightness. As if, finally, finally, my body was doing what it was meant to do.
Somewhere along the way, we crumpled to the floor. But we didn’t stop touching, and Miguel didn’t stop feeding, until both of us were limp and sated, coated in semen and shaking with pleasure. Miguel pulled his fangs back and lapped at my skin, immediately stemming the flow of blood.
“How?” I asked.
He kissed over the spot he’d been licking and then along the underside of my jaw up to my lips. “Our saliva closes the wounds.”
“Mmmm,” I sighed contentedly as I lay in Miguel’s arms, luxuriating in postcoital bliss, feeling relaxed and easy in my skin, my body lax and lethargic. Lord, I felt good. He felt good. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as my eyes drifted shut.
And that was when it hit me—Miguel had fed from me. And not just a small amount. I gasped as I shot up to a sitting position.
“What is it?” he asked, rising fast as lightning and wrapping his body around mine as he darted his gaze around the room, searching for whatever threat had startled me.
“You…you…” I raised a trembling hand to his face and felt his cheek, his lips, his chin. “You said you weren’t going to drink me.” I swallowed down my rising tears, and my voice broke as I finished speaking. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Panic overwhelmed me, my body shaking like a leaf. And then I felt two large hands cup my face, and warm, soothing breaths ghosted over my lips. “Shhhh, wolf. I know what I said, but your blood is different. It tastes as good as it smells. Not like sulfur and rotting fruit, like other shifters.”
Hearing that I tasted different from my kind didn’t surprise me. I’d been different all my life. But neither did it alleviate my concern about his well-being.
“But what if it can still hurt you? Even if my blood doesn’t smell the same or taste the same as other shifters, what if—”
“No.” Miguel was adamant. “You’re not poisonous. I’ve walked the earth long enough to know what to avoid. My senses are very well developed, wolf. Besides, with as much as I fed from you, I would be gone already if your blood could harm me. And, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.” He paused and crinkled his forehead, looking thoughtful. “Actually, I’m better than fine. I’m not hungry.” He swallowed hard. “I’m always hungry, always. Even more so lately. But now”—his wide-eyed gaze met mine—“I’m not.” He was quiet for a few beats before he spoke again, his voice hushed. “What are you?”
“I’m, uh…” I didn’t know how to answer his question. I wasn’t even sure what he meant. “I’m a shifter,” I finally said. “You know that, already.”
He nodded. “I’ve seen you in both forms, seen you shift. But your scent… I can sense that you’re a shifter, and yet… You don’t smell like the others, don’t taste like the others, and your blood”—he trembled—“there’s so much. And it feels different, warmer, heavier. It feels—”
“Right,” I said. “It feels right.” I blushed when I realized I’d interrupted him. He stayed quiet, watching me with those deep, knowing eyes, waiting for me to continue. So I did. “My blood in you, I mean. It feels like it’s supposed to be there, like you were meant to feed from me.” I paused when I realized he hadn’t responded at all. “That’s what you were trying to say, isn’t it?” I whispered.
He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. “That’s exactly how I feel. How can you know that?”
“Because I feel the same way,” I answered hoarsely.
“The same way?” He repeated my words, the question clear from his inflection. “How do you mean? Does it have to do with what you called me?”
I lowered my gaze and chewed on my bottom lip nervously. “Well, maybe not exactly the same. I mean, I don’t feed on blood, but—” The second part of his question registered and I tore my gaze up and stared at him. “What I called you?”
“Yes, before I fed from you. Your heartbeat was sluggish, your veins ready to burst, I thought you were going to pass out, and then you called me ‘mate.’ I wasn’t certain at first, but then you said it again when you came.” He shuddered and dipped his face, nibbling at the sensitive skin behind my ear. “You’re so beautiful, wolf. Your brown hair streaked with auburn and gold, those smoky eyes, and full lips. Stunning. And when you’re in the throes of pleasure… Going on four hundred years and I’ve never seen anything like it.” He closed his eyes and I felt his breaths come out faster. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve never—”
I ran my fingers through his soft hair, and his words halted as his eyes flew open, landing on me, lust and awe shining out. He moaned and scooped me closer, then took my face in his hands and tilted it before pressing his lips to mine in a kiss that started molten and somehow managed to heat up from there.
His hands were everywhere at once, tugging my shirt up and over my head, yanking my shoes off my feet and pulling my pants and drawers down right after. And all the while, he kissed me, held me, nibbled on sensitive skin. By the time he had me curled in his lap, bare other than my socks, I was erect once more.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible. Never before had my body given me pleasure. I hadn’t had trouble behaving because even in the privacy of my own bedroom, taking myself in hand hadn’t been appealing, but now, with him touching me, pleasure was all there was. I was amazed by how he made me feel.
“And just how is that, Ethan?” he asked. It took a spell before I understood what he was asking, partly because I hadn’t intended on speaking out loud, and also because my mind was awash in a haze of arousal. “How do I make you feel?” he repeated as he traced a prominent vein in my swollen prick with one long finger.
“Alive,” I replied on a gasp. I clung to his shoulders and thrust my hips up, seeking his touch, needing it.
He cupped the back of my head and lowered me onto my back as he chuckled. “I make you feel alive, do I? That’s ironic.”
“Huh?”
The smile he graced on me was tender and sweet. He traced my lower lip with his thumb before bending over me and skating his mouth over mine. “I need to taste you,” he said. “With as good as you smell, as delicious as your blood tastes”—he bored his gaze into me—“I can’t resist you, wolf.”
He’d already fed from me, and I had no concern about him doing it again. But when his kisses dipped lower than my neck, I realized I hadn’t understood what he meant to do. He lapped at my clavicle, and I trembled, surprised the light touch could evoke such strong feelings. When he covered my nipple with his lips and swirled his tongue around it before suckling it, I keened and tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him in place.
Miguel didn’t deny me. He kept on his task, working the pink nub until it was swollen and sore. Even then, he wasn’t through with me. He simply moved from right to left and drew the other bud into his mouth in just the same way. I gasped and moaned, writhing beneath him and grasping any part of him I could—shoulders, hair, arms. And then, just when I was certain another climax was upon me, Miguel circled his hand around the base of my shaft and squeezed tightly, halting the crest.
“Damn, you’re thick,” he said as he stroked me from base to tip, “and long.” I shook, the need he created overwhelming me. “Can’t wait to taste you.”
And then he did something I hadn’t expected. He moved his head down and drew my erection into his hot, wet mouth, swallowing down my rod like he had my blood.
“Miguel!” I cried. “Mate!”
I couldn’t have stopped the tidal wave from crashing had I wanted to. And I wanted nothing of the sort. I gasped and moaned as I spent myself in his mouth and he swallowed down every drop of my offering. I couldn’t raise my head, couldn’t move my limbs. My chest heaved as I panted, trying to take in more air. And all the while Miguel stayed where he was, petting my hip and licking at my crown. Eventually he twitched and shouted as his hot cream splashed on my leg.
“I was right,” he said, looking up at me, his lips swollen and eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re delicious.”
I reached for him, feeling like I was going to fly right apart without his weight to keep me grounded and safe. He took my hand in his and kissed my palm before crawling over me until his face once again hovered above mine.
I took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of strength I possessed. “How much do you know about shifters?” I asked.
Miguel Rodriguez was my mate, which meant I was going to stick to his side like white on rice. I reckoned it was only fair for me to explain that to him.
“I know that none of them have ever felt as good as you.”
I frowned and a growl rumbled out at the thought of my mate feeling anyone, ever.
Miguel smirked. “That’s adorable,” he said, dipping down and tugging my lower lip between both of his before nibbling his way across my jaw to my ear. “I know quite a bit about shifters, actually. For example, I know your kind are very territorial, and based on that noise you just made, I’m guessing you’re trying to stake a claim on me.”
Oh, there was no “trying” about it. “You’re mine,” I nearly shouted. “And you best realize it right soon.”
The grin left his face, and he looked truly regretful when he cupped my cheek and responded. “I’m not a good bet, wolf. I tried to warn you before, tried to tell you to stay away.”
“That’s never going to happen,” I said adamantly. “I belong with you, and that’s all there is.”
“I’m a vampire,” he said, as if that explained anything.
“You’re my mate,” I replied, knowing that trumped everything. “My true mate.”
“Vampires don’t mate, Ethan. We don’t settle down and build dens and raise puppies. We’re not monogamous. We—”
“Oh, well, you surely are now,” I told him. “There’s going to be nobody but me for you from here on out.”
“And how do you plan to explain me to your pack?” He sounded frustrated. “Like I said, I know all about shifters. I know your kind looks down at everyone different. Humans are lesser beings, half-souls; that’s what you call them, right? They can’t shift into two forms so they’re not worthy. And bloodsuckers,” he scoffed. “We’re worse, aren’t we? Dirty, soulless, immoral.”
“I never said that,” I said hurriedly, feeling sickened by his hostile tone and harsh language.
“No, you didn’t. But do you deny that it’s true? Shifters live in packs, live for the pack, and you’re never going to bring me home to meet your mother. So how, exactly, do you plan on this going?”
He was right, of course, and it wounded me deeply, the fact that he’d never be accepted by my pack, the fact that I’d have to leave them in order to live by his side.
“I don’t deny it,” I whispered sadly. “But I hope that my mama will come into town to meet you.” I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes. “Either way, I’m staying with you. That’s where I belong. That’s where my loyalty lies now.”
“You’d choose me over your pack?” he asked skeptically. “You’d leave pack lands to live with me?”
It was the only choice I could make, the only choice I wanted to make. Like I’d said, Miguel was mine.
“Yes,” I answered simply, because, well, it was just as simple as that.