The Beast

Rhage seemed to shake himself. “I—well, I feel the same way.”

“Finish? Inside of me?” She arched up against him. “I want to feel you come.”

Rhage dropped his head into her neck and began moving once more. “Oh, God, Mary . . . Mary . . .”

Two strokes later he was orgasming, his incredible body tightening up, his erection kicking deeply within her and teeing off another release.

He didn’t stop. Not for the longest time. Which was something that vampire males had the ability to do. He just kept orgasming, filling her to overflowing—and still he continued until the releases came so closely together, they became a single pulsing rush.

When he was done, he fell still and drooped, but then he buttressed his weight on his elbows so she could breathe.

God, he was so huge.

She was used to his size to some degree, but as she opened her eyes, all she could see was just part of his shoulder. Everything else was blocked by his bulk.

Stroking his biceps, she said quietly, “Will you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Rhage pushed himself back a little farther so he could meet her in the eye.

“You look so sad.” She traced his brows. The sorrowful cast to his perfect mouth. The bruises on his jaw. “It’s always better if you talk to someone.”

After a long moment, he opened his mouth—

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Out in the bedroom, the unmistakable impact of a Brother pounding on the door was not muffled in the slightest.

Rhage twisted around and shouted, “Yeah?”

V’s voice carried through into the loo. “We got a meeting. Now.”

“Roger that. Coming.”

Rhage turned back and kissed her. “I’d better go.”

His withdrawal was quick, and his eyes stayed ducked as he helped her up off the rug and over to the shower.

“I wish I were getting in there with you,” he said as he cranked on the hot water.

No, she thought, as he wouldn’t look at her. You actually don’t.

“Rhage, I know you have to go. But you’re scaring me.”

As he moved her under the spray, he took her face in his hands and stared her dead in the eye. “You don’t have anything to worry about. Not now and not ever—at least not about me. I love you til forever and back, and nothing else matters as long as that is true.”

Mary took a deep breath. “Okay. All right.”

“I’ll return soon as the meeting’s over. And we can get some food. Watch a movie. You know, do that thing . . . what do the humans call it?”

Mary laughed a little. “Netflix and chill.”

“Right. We’re going to Netflix and chill.”

He kissed her even though it got his face wet, and then he backed off and shut the glass door. On his way out, he threw his sweats on again, but kept his feet bare.

She watched him go. And thought it was amazing how someone could reassure you . . . while at the same time make things worse.

What the hell was going on with him?

When she was finished with her shower, she toweled off, brushed the tangles out of her wet hair, and got dressed in a set of yoga pants and a big black cashmere sweater that nearly came down to her knees. She’d bought the thing for Rhage as they’d headed into the previous winter, and she’d even gotten it in his favorite non-color after a longstanding failure at trying to diversify his wardrobe. He hadn’t been able to wear it very often, though, because he’d always overheated with it on.

The weave smelled like him, however.

And as she left their room, she felt as though he were with her—and man, did she need that tonight.

Pausing in front of the King’s study, she listened to the deep male voices on the other side of the closed doors.

Down below in the foyer, she could hear doggen talking. The floor polisher. The tinkling of crystal, as if the sconces were being taken apart to be cleaned in the sink again.

Without making a sound, she padded across the thick red-and-gold runner, heading for the Hall of Statues. But she didn’t go down that corridor, with its Greco-Roman masterpieces in marble and all its bedrooms. No, she was headed for the next floor up.

The door to the mansion’s third level was not locked, but it wasn’t open, either, and she felt a little like she was trespassing as she opened the way to the stairs and went upward. On the top landing, across from Trez’s and iAm’s rooms, was the vaulted steel door to the First Family’s suite, and she hit its bell, standing with her face in the security camera.

Moments later, there was a series of clunks as the bars moved free of their holds, and then the heavy panel opened wide. Beth was on the other side, L.W. on her hip, her hair in a braid over her shoulder, those old blue jeans and bright blue fleece the very definition of homey. What was not cozy in the slightest? The incredible glimmer of the gemstones set into all the walls beyond.

Mary had never been in the private quarters before. Few had, other than Fritz, who insisted on doing the cleaning up there himself. But Mary had heard that the entire suite was studded with precious jewels from the Old Country’s treasury—and clearly that was true.

“Hey, there.” The Queen smiled even as L.W. grabbed onto some hair over her ear and yanked. “Okay, ow. Let’s try something else for biceps curls, shall we?”

As Beth untangled that fat little fist, Mary said grimly, “I need you to tell me what happened with Rhage. And don’t pretend you don’t know what it is.”