Mystic's Run

The hotel suite Roman ushered Mystic into was everything she'd anticipated. She wasn't a stranger to opulence and luxury, her parents would never be accused of slumming in their choice of family vacation accommodations, but the casino's high-roller suite, elaborately done in a Greco-Roman theme complete with naked statues screamed outrageous, expensive decadence.



"It suits you," Mystic said, laughing softly as she wrapped her arms around her ancient, vampire mate.



"Careful," he warned, "or I might throw you into the lion's den. It was once considered a fitting punishment for any number of crimes."



Mystic nibbled on his bottom lip. "I'd like to see the lion's den, and the lion. Will you show me?"



"Later," Roman promised, amused at how pointless it was to threaten her. He was beginning to think the terms ancient and vampire were forever melded together when it came to him.



They are, she said, easily skimming his thoughts. But it's the same for my fathers so you're in good company.



As long as you don't think of me as your father.



Her tongue slipped into his mouth, coaxed his fangs into elongating as her hand found his erection and caressed him through the material of his pants. I don't think you have to worry about that.



Roman's fingers speared through her hair. For long moments he gave himself to the moment, savored her eagerness to touch and kiss him despite how often she'd been taken by her other mates, despite what they'd already done at Wyldfyres.



Alone. At last. He almost didn't know where to start.



I can help, she said, her laughter filling his thoughts, carnal images goading him into action. With a chuckle he swept her up and carried her into a bathroom nearly as large as Christian's bedroom.



A quick glance told him his call ahead had netted the results he wanted. The sunken tub was full. A chilled bottle of champagne and bowl of chocolate-covered and deep red strawberries waited on an elegant, raised serving tray.



Mystic's gasp of surprised pleasure and the rush of tender feelings along their bond were his reward. He captured her mouth with his. The dress he'd bought for her came off with the ease it had been designed for as he placed her on her feet, his lips still on hers.



Her moan vibrated through Roman, added to the animal heat building inside him. He deepened the kiss, loved how quickly her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, the zipper of his pants, how anxiously she helped divest him of his clothing.



This was how he liked her best. Alone. Naked. Hungry for him and him alone, excited only by what they were doing to one another.



He could live with sharing her, had already come to accept it, even to enjoy it, but he needed this, too. Centuries of a sometimes unbearably lonely existence now seemed like a small price to pay to gain her as a mate.



Their tongues twined, rubbed as their bodies pressed together, heated skin against heated skin. His cock pulsed and leaked, urged him to forget about the bath, the strawberries and champagne, to carry her to bed instead.



Roman resisted, resisted even the urge to cup her breasts, to kneel and bury his face between her thighs. With a groan he picked her up again, carried her to the tub and slipped into the welcoming water of the bath.



Only when he was sitting with her settled across his lap did he let his hand drift to her chest so his fingers could capture a love-bruised nipple. Her hand quickly mimicked his, her fingers tweaking, tugging, sending a bolt of need straight to his cock.



He bucked when her other hand found his penis. His mouth lifted from hers in a panting gasp when her thumb rubbed over his cock head.



"Stop," he said, but his voice lacked compulsion.



She arched her neck, offered the pulse pounding there. "Bite me," she whispered, commanding with the squeeze of her fingers, with her touch.



"I want to feed you first," he said. But still he teased them both, tested his own restraint by putting his mouth on her throat and touching his fangs to her skin.



His hand left her breast to trail downward to her clit. She whimpered when he found it, moaned and shivered as he stroked and rubbed, drove her to a small shuddering release.



Mystic mellowed against him, like a cat settling in, content to be petted for a while. Scenes from Wyldfyres floated lazily through her mind. "Is it pretty much like that every night?" she asked.



"It changes depending on the patrons. But regardless of who is in attendance, it's always a dangerous place."



Roman's hand slid up to cup her neck. "Next time I take you there, you will wear the necklace of a companion." His tone was implacable.



Mystic smiled, a feline smile of contentment. "Okay," she said, letting him feel her willingness to accept what he offered when the time was right, when her other mates could be included.



He leaned in and brushed a kiss over her lips. "Even to make you my companion I wouldn't share you tonight, not when I finally have you alone again."



She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Moved into the kiss. Alone and at your mercy. Don't forget the second part.



He chuckled, finding it hard to believe she'd been a virgin before meeting Christian, but he knew from her memories that she had been. She was a natural seductress, a siren he would willingly follow to his doom.



For long moments they kissed, hands exploring, tongues twining, rubbing, time slowing so they could savor each other, love each other. Hearts beat in unified rhythm, desire flowed along their bond, unrushed.



Roman was short of breath when he lifted his mouth from Mystic's. His attention was drawn to the platter of strawberries and chilled champagne for an instant, but he knew they would wait. He needed to feed a deeper hunger.



With the control only a truly ancient and powerful vampire could muster, Roman elongated a single fingernail, turned it into a sharp talon. His eyes didn't leave Mystic's as he scraped above his nipple and drew blood.



Her soft cry ratcheted up the ache in his cock to exquisitely painful levels. He moaned when she put her mouth on him, swirled her tongue over his nipple then suckled.



Trust, it was a supreme act of trust on her part to drink from him, to take what he offered, knowing it was part of the ritual making a companion, knowing how desperately he wanted her bound to him in that way. She drank deeply, the pull of her lips making his penis pulse. The sound of her pleasure joining his as she plastered herself to him, ensured their skin touched in as many places as possible.



"Mystic," he whispered, the need to come building though he couldn't force his hands away from where they tangled in her luxurious hair.



He grunted when she twisted on his lap, repositioned herself to straddle him without her mouth leaving his nipple. His hips bucked when her hand guided his penis to the flushed, swollen lips of her cunt.



She was tempting fate, testing his control. But no power on earth could have stopped him from sliding into her slit.



They both shuddered when he was all the way in, held tight in a hot fist of welcoming heat. She gave a hard bite to his nipple before kissing upward, the wound on his chest closed by the time she got to his mouth.



Roman's hands left her hair, slid downward to grasp her hips. She tasted of magic and blood. Of him.



It was intoxicating, a binding of his senses as thorough as her Angelini claim to him. He craved her profoundly, more intensely than a newly risen vampire craved blood. She was essential to his existence.



Please, she said, rising off his lap the little distance he allowed.



Roman's hands tightened on her hips. He struggled to remain still inside her but her sheath rippled along his length, clenched and unclenched. He gave up the fight when she lured his tongue into her mouth and began sucking.



With the grace and strength of a vampire he rose to his knees in the deep tub. Her legs went around his waist, her arms around his neck. He held her easily as he began thrusting, driving hard and deep, the angle of their bodies sending erotic sensation through her clit.



Roman swallowed her cries. He fed on them in the same way she'd fed on his blood. He wanted to consume her, to swallow her down.



Lust and need weren't large enough words to contain what he felt as he fucked her. Pleasure was too tame a description for the riot of sensation and emotion he felt.



Mystic, he said. A prayer. A plea. Then all thought was banished as his hips jerked frantically, as her channel spasmed in orgasm and his body answered in a hot wash of seed.



He settled back into the water, his cock still lodged in Mystic's sheath. "That was nice," she murmured, a teasing glint in her eyes as she added, "There are advantages to having a mate who was alive during ancient times, when sex in the bath was an everyday occurrence. Practice makes perfect, and your technique is definitely perfect."



Roman chuckled, finally reaching for one of the strawberries he'd intended as a preliminary to their lovemaking. He selected a plump, red specimen and carried it to Mystic's lips.



Next you'll be bringing out the whipped cream, she said, taking his offering as she reached for a strawberry to feed him.



I don't need any enticement to explore every inch of your flesh with my lips and tongue.



Mystic gave herself over to feeding him strawberries and being fed in return. She was already drunk on his attention, on his blood, but she didn't turn away from the champagne when he opened the bottle and poured her a glass.



"To having ended up with a very satisfactory mate," she teased, touching her glass to his, loving the way he was quick to laugh.



She didn't doubt he was beautiful, elegant death. But then she'd grown up in a home with vampires, and she found it comforting to have a mate who was familiar to her, even if he was still a stranger in so many ways.



"I'm glad the magic chose you," she whispered, pressing her lips to his, the bond swelling with the depth of her feelings.



They lingered in the tub until the champagne and strawberries were gone. "Let me see you now," she said after they'd gotten out of the water and dried themselves off with plush, peach-colored towels.



He became an eagle first, golden in color, his sharp talons digging into the discarded towel. The lion followed, immense, its powerful presence making the bathroom suddenly seem small.



Mystic's heart danced erratically in her chest as she knelt down next to him. If he was elegant death in his vampire form, then he was savage death in this one.



She tangled her fingers in his mane as her other hand stroked the fur of his back. Werewolves were larger than ordinary wolves, heavier and stronger. But she thought Roman's lion was life-size-not that she'd ever been up close and personal with the animals she'd seen at the zoo. Still, she imagined he was four or five hundred pounds of raw muscle and feral menace.



The air in front of her shimmered. Beast became man.



"You're beautiful," she said.



"No more beautiful than my Angelini mate."



He pulled her into his arms then stood. His lips captured hers and held them captive as he carried her into the bedroom.



Mystic's cunt spasmed when he set her on her feet and she saw the silken strips of cloth on the bed. They were blood red, four slashes against the white bedspread.



"I promised you a taste of what you saw at Wyldfyres," he said, trailing a finger down her spine.



Erotic fear shivered through Mystic. Her heart rate tripled, its beat thundering in her ears. Instinct fought desire. She licked her lips, suddenly, inexplicably nervous.



Maybe she had some wolf in her after all, Mystic thought. She trusted Roman enough to take his blood and beg for him to take hers, but the thought of being physically bound, tied and helpless...



The need to fight or flee swelled, filled her like a stretching beast, made her short of breath. Muscles tensed, bunched. "Maybe we should ease into this," she said, shooting a quick glance at the bed. "I could tie you up first." Not that strips of cloth would hold him for even a second if he wanted to be free.



"Next time," Roman promised, his voice a rough purr over her naked skin.



Mystic shivered again. It took courage, more than she would have thought, more than she imagined she had to crawl up on the bed and stretch out, waiting for him to tie her.



She felt his satisfaction through the bond, saw it in the way the vampire flames flared and burned in his pupils. When he was finished tethering her wrists and ankles to the bed frame he straddled her.



She loved the feel of his heavy testicles against her stomach. Moisture gushed from her slit despite the wild hammer of her heart.



His heat swamped her. His desire hovered over her like a beast ready to pounce and she struggled against the silken ties.



"It won't do any good," Roman purred, his mouth close to her throat, his breath whispering across her pulse an instant before his fangs touched her flesh.



She gasped as a shard of white-hot lust shot through her breasts and settled in her nipples. "Please," she said, tilting her head, offering what she knew he craved.



Roman closed his eyes and fought for control. His cock throbbed, ached with nearly painful intensity.



Mystic's heartbeat was a siren call urging him to pierce her neck and feed. But if he yielded, he'd never be able to keep from fucking her.



No, he said, denying them both the intimacy they craved.



He forced his fangs to retract but the effort cost him. A shudder went through him. His testicles drew up hard and tight. He groaned and dropped his head, pressed his face to her skin and inhaled her.



She was pure magic. Angelini and vampire and wolf. She was pure woman. His, though traces of Christian and Hawk were there too, bound to Mystic as surely as his own scent was forever woven into hers.



With a low growl Roman kissed his way down to her breast. She cried when he claimed a nipple and began sucking.



"Bite me," she said, her heels digging into the bed, her back arching, trapping his erection against the heated flesh of her abdomen.



Arousal beaded on his cock head, wet her skin like an erotic lick. He moaned, remembering the ecstasy he'd experienced in the tub as he'd fed her. His fingers found her other nipple, tugged and squeezed in time to his suckling.



She writhed against him. Her hips canted so her soft, flushed folds burned his flesh, pressed against him in a wet, sultry kiss of invitation.



The roar of her blood left him straining, panting, fighting against the urge to sink his fangs into her skin. She was swollen, wet, parted for him, her clit stiff, throbbing, begging for his attention.



"Please," Mystic said, pleading for his bite, pleading for release. She felt as though her heart had split and left her chest. Now it beat in her cunt, in her nipples.



The muscles in her arms burned from straining against the silken bonds tethering her to the bed. She wanted to touch him, to use her hands to strip his control so he'd give her what she needed.



A sob escaped when his mouth left her nipple and kissed downward. She wanted him to hurry but he took his time. She was shaking by the time his mouth found her clit.



The bond between them held no hiding places. She could feel Roman's lust. His desire to fuck equaled his desire to feed but neither overrode his desire to give her a taste of what she'd seen at Wyldfyres, to demonstrate he was a mate who would give her whatever she desired regardless of what it cost him.



She cried out when he stroked her swollen knob with this tongue then sucked it into his mouth and kept sucking. Her hips jerked in time to the pull of his lips. The play left in the silken ties binding her ankles to the bed enabled her to lift her buttocks from the mattress, fight to drive her clit deeper into his mouth. White-fire pulsed through her as he drove everything from her mind but the feel of his lips and tongue.



He took her to the edge of orgasm repeatedly, backed off before she found release. By the time he lifted his mouth from her clit she was quivering, strung tight as if her body had become a bowstring connected to the tethers keeping her in place.



Tears flowed down her cheeks. Her nipples were tight buds. Through Roman's eyes she saw herself and understood completely the tortured look of pleasure she'd witnessed on the restrained companion's face at Wyldfyres.



Erotic fear returned in a rush when Roman knelt between her thighs and his hands gripped her buttocks, parting them so arousal slid down unimpeded over the pucker of her anus. His fingers followed and she fought instinctively, tried to evade the fingertips working moisture into her back entrance, stretching her.



Roman's face was a mask of fierce hunger, all humanity stripped from it. She felt his driving need to be the first to claim her ass now that he knew she'd never been taken there. Growls filled their mental link as his pupils expanded until only a tiny rim of blue remained. Vampire flame gave way to something ancient, something that existed only in his memory. Gryphon.



There was true fear for a single heartbeat, but Mystic forced away. She tilted her head back, offered her throat in a show of submission.



Roman left his place between her thighs. He covered her body with his and she whimpered when his cock head pressed against the opening of her anus.



His lips found the pulse in her neck. His teeth gripped her skin, held her heartbeat in his mouth as he slowly forged inside her virgin back entrance.



Dangerous. This was a dangerous game to play with a powerful mate who'd been a beast before becoming a man. But it was too late. Much, much too late.



Mystic moaned as he pushed inside her. His thrusts shallow, his cock smooth hot steel.



Sweat covered their skin by the time he was all the way in. He hovered above her, taut muscles and harsh breathing a testament to the struggle going on inside him.



Mine. The word crashed into her with primitive intensity and a bestial urge to mate.



Yours, she said, giving what she could to the core of him, the part of him that would never manifest physically again.



Yours, she repeated, using what freedom the tethers allowed to move so his cock retreated a few inches, then reclaimed her dark entrance completely.



It was enough. The beast yielded to the vampire it had become with the death of the old mage. Mystic screamed when Roman's fangs pierced her neck, blending pain and pleasure as his hips thrust in and out of her in a darkly carnal taking.