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Arms.
I pressed my forearm to Okeanos’ mouth, blood still dripping from Mehen’s enthusiastic bite. Blindly, I felt for Xin. Seized his hair. Pulled him closer. Cradled his head against my breast. My blood burned on my skin, throbbing bites still bleeding all over my body. They’d be able to absorb enough energy just by touching me, until they recovered enough to feed.
My skin felt too tight. My bones shifted inside me, not in the right location. Part of my head was still in the cobra. The part that couldn’t comprehend legs or walking. Or feeling anything other than euphoria and hunger, though the cutting edge of my hunger had been temporarily dulled.
Until I dared open my eyes and look at the carnage around me.
Rik made his way from one downed Blood to another, straightening their limbs and laying them out more comfortably. Except Mehen, who cracked open a slitted emerald eye and snarled, and Vivian, who wouldn’t appreciate the help from any male. She lay near the edge of the bed, one arm and leg hanging off, her red braids so heavy they slowly pulled her off the mattress to slump on the floor.
The huge bed we’d waited for weeks to receive was covered in blood and slanted crazily in the middle. The foot of the mattress lay on the floor, the heavy frame smashed to smithereens. The bedding was slashed and sliced by claws and knives and goddess only knew what else. Blood dripped from the ceiling and sprayed the walls like a gruesome murder scene. Half the ceiling had fallen, clumps of plaster mixing with blood. Even the beautiful old hardwood floors were ruined. It looked like G had tried to write into the wood with his sword.
“I would never,” he said, his words barely intelligible. “Bad for the sword.”
Tears filled my eyes as I turned to see him, lying just a few feet away, facing me. Reaching for me, slowly inching his way closer. The cut on his throat pink and tender as his spine knitted back together.
“Winston’s going to fucking kill us,” Ezra grumbled.
I turned to look at my grumpy grizzly bear who was actually a giant cinnamon roll on the inside. His jeans rode low on his hips. No shoes, no shirt, his broad chest and thick, beefy shoulders bare except for a mat of hair sprinkled across his pectorals.
“Come here.” I didn’t recognize the tone of my voice. I don’t think I’d ever used it before. The words hung in the air, vibrating with intensity.
His eyes flared wide, lifting to my gaze. Making sure I meant him. Then he lumbered toward me, moving faster the last steps to sweep me up in his arms. My back thumped into the wall, raining down more pieces of plaster on our heads. Not that I cared. I rubbed my face against his chest, breathing in his spicy cinnamon scent mixed with a hint of pine trees. The deep, hoary forest of ancient trees of his homeland.
“Fucking hurry.” My words were garbled by my fangs, and it took all my will not to strike hard and fast to slake this burning thirst. “Get inside me. Now.”
Panting, he jerked at his jeans while I climbed up his body, using the wall for leverage. My mouth hovered over his thumping pulse. Torment, my fangs throbbing in time to my heart. But if I bit him now, it’d be over before I could feel his hook expanding inside me. Filling me up, locked tight. That’s what I wanted. What I needed. Just as badly as his blood.
He sank into me, and my breath sobbed out with relief. Grinding me against the wall, he covered me with his entire body, giving me his weight and strength. Somehow wrapping me up in a giant bear hug even while fucking me.
I couldn’t wait any longer.
I jammed my fangs deep into his throat, riding the vicious wave of climax rolling through his body. He roared with release, swelling inside me. Locked deep.
His blood rushed into me, an eager fountain from a pure glacier high above, sprinkled with pine needles and cinnamon. So good.
Part of my brain knew I needed to slow the flow, or he wouldn’t be able to maintain an erection, let alone his hook. But he tasted too good. I couldn’t stop gulping him down. With a deep, rumbling growl, he shoved me higher against the wall. I tipped my opposite shoulder down, baring as much of my throat as I could without releasing my own bite.
He started to lower his head, but Rik grabbed a handful of his shaggy hair and jerked his head back. “Don’t feed on her, not until she stabilizes. You keep giving us too much, my queen.”
I snarled against Ezra’s throat. :I want us all to feast and feed and fuck some more.:
“I know,” Rik whispered soothingly, despite the fierce grip he had on Ezra’s hair. “Once your new Blood arrive, and your reserves are filled, we’ll gladly do whatever you wish. Right now, I need you to heal the Blood who’re down with the blood you’ve already spilled in this room.”
Shaking my head, even though my fangs tore Ezra’s skin open, I growled again. Out of control and so fucking desperate. A gnawing, empty pit of a black hole spun wider, wrecking as much devastation as Sepdet’s sinkhole that had almost swallowed Helayna’s nest.
Which told me more than anything else Rik was right.
I hated feeling like this.
Ezra wobbled against Rik, his eyelids fluttering, his heart slowing. His dick softened and slid out of me, making me whimper with the loss.
“There’s enough blood spilled in this room already to heal them all,” Rik continued softly. “Call it to you, my queen. You’ll feel better too.”
I had to suck on my punctures in Ezra’s throat to keep the blood flowing into my mouth. My sign to stop. I didn’t want to drain him too low, or he’d need healing too. My breaths were choppy and shallow, my nerves on fire. Panic crawled in my stomach, but I closed my eyes and focused on calming my breathing.
It sucked. Royally. But I’d felt this way before and survived.
I willed the blood in the room to flow back to me. Mine. Theirs. Mixed with venom and cum and saliva. Heat flared in my chest, lighting up my bonds. I allowed the energy to flow as it wanted, gliding to the ones who needed the most help. The most healing.
