Page 62 of Blood & Bedlam

Every inch, every atom vibrates with energy under Vladimir’s touch. His fingers are curled possessively around my throat, pinning me to the rich leather seat while his hips curl, thrusting his cock so deep I see stars. Our bodies jostle when the car rolls over the crater of a pothole, but the gravity just pushes him farther inside of me.

“Fuck!” he grunts as I constrict around him, and I love that he’s as affected by me as I am him. He pulls us up into a sitting position, and I brace against the roof for leverage as he shimmies his hips off the edge of the seat, giving him free range to fuck me with abandon. A lock of his hair has fallen into his face, but his eyes are locked on my pussy, watching himself sink inside of me with every thrust like he’s mesmerized.

I follow his gaze, because the hunger there is intoxicating. I lean back, bracing on the tops of his thighs as I ride him, matching his hips, chasing that pleasure. I’m right on the edge when his thumb slips through my lips, gathering up my arousal before bringing it up to apply pressure to my clit. The partition is soundproof, but I would gather that Marco knows exactly what the fuck we’re doing back here.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, spread for me, my star. Show me,” he commands, his voice rough. His left hand leaves my hip and presses my thighs wide, exposing me to his gaze while I ride. His cologne fills the space, mixing with the call of his blood, and my vision tunnels as my fangs descend.

“Fuck yes, that’s my feral girl,” he praises, shifting his opened dress shirt to expose that throbbing vein in his neck. He knows what I want, knows how intoxicating it is to feed while his mate comes. His cock swells as his hips falter, and I let my body fall forward, seeking the warmth of his pulse point. My fangs slide in, and it’s a decadent rush, one that sends me into a frenzy.

Besides my turning, I’ve only ever indulged from the vein with him, but every taste is magic. Pleasure floods through my body, pushing to his through the Bond, and it’s an infinite loop of want and ecstasy as we shatter. I can feel him pulsing inside of me, filling me up, and I groan as his fingers keep working me over, keep stroking while I feed. I’m careful not to waste a drop, not to let any spill from my lips.

Once I’m sated, I lick over the puncture wounds, sealing them tight, and rise up, still straddling his cock.

“Hey, devil.” I smirk, rolling my hips and forcing my muscles to clench and clasp around his shaft. He groans, his eyes rolling back, and it makes me feel so fucking powerful.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he grunts, punching his hips up, sending me into the ceiling. I brace, and let him rock up in slow, deliberate thrusts.

“Maybe, but at least you aren’t going to have to walk in there with cum leaking down your legs,” I fire back on a laugh. A possessive growl rips from his chest. In a flash he has us flipped, my back now pressed against the leather, both legs slung over his shoulder as his eyes lock on my core, on the cum I can feel seeping out. I push, flexing, and a ravenous look crosses his face.

“Can’t have that, my star.” He lifts his shoulder before latching his lips over my clit and sucking, sending waves of desire through my body. My back bows and he goes to town, licking me clean, the tip of his tongue a whirlwind against my heated flesh, but his eyes, those fucking eyes, they watch me. They watch me pant, watch me squirm and try to run from the intensity, but the grip he has me caged in doesn’t let me get far.

His mouth is busy, but he speaks through our bloodlink, his words caressing me from the inside out.

You taste so fucking good covered in me, marked. His words kiss against my mind, and when his fangs descend, they pierce right through the skin of my clit, the pain mixing with the pleasure and sliding me toward oblivion. He crawls back up my body, planting kisses over the valley between my breasts, until his face hovers over mine.

Open, he links, and I obey, because I am an absolute slut for this man. His lips part against mine and his wicked tongue pushes his mess inside of my mouth. The combination of the two of us on my tongue has me moaning against him, ready for more.

“You’re insatiable.” He laughs, trailing kisses over my jaw, back down my neck. He sits on his haunches, with too much air between us, and I whine, petulant at the loss of contact.

“You promised to always sate me. It was a condition of my turning,” I pout, but he just smiles, and cards his fingers through his hair.

“I would, my star, but I’m afraid we’ve been parked for a few minutes and, uh, we are about to be late.” He shrugs, gesturing out the window, and I laugh, because we are, indeed, parked under the welcoming awning. There are absolutely Otherworlders on the other side of that door that heard me coming, and because Vlad knows me, he knows that’s exactly where my mind went. He pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket and begins to clean the wetness from my thighs, traces of our combined release and his saliva, the venom and blood from his little biting stunt.

He works diligently, straightening the swaths of red fabric over my legs, pulling up the loose straps that slid down my shoulders. His thumb comes up to swipe just under my lips, tidying up the lipstick I know he smudged. I watch with a dopey smile as he searches for my heel that I kicked off while he was fucking my brains out, see him gently place it back on my foot. It pops into place and then he’s bending, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of my ankle before setting it down and looking me over, assuring that when that door opens, I’ll look nothing less than perfect.

He spends less time on his own appearance, but he’s crawling over to settle on the bench, reaching for the handle.

“You ready?” he asks and I give him my best smile. The grin on his face is so handsome that it nearly hurts when he turns to open the door for us. A line of Eternals stand sentry on either side of the walkway, and I feel my cheeks heat when one of them, Andreas, I believe is his name, eyes us with a small smirk on his lips.

Many of the Eternals didn’t survive the initial attack from the masquerade, but some did. The Dracul has been busy refilling the positions, but it’s a lifelong appointment, and a heavy commitment. The atrium is empty, practically shouting at us that we are the last to arrive, but Vladimir doesn’t rush me. He’s stoic and put together as the double doors open, and we enter, every eye in the room on us. He leads us right up the center aisle, and when he gets to the throne of the Dracul, he stops, and we both incline our heads.

“Dracul,” we greet, and Camille nods her head, eyes narrowed as they ping to the lipstick on his collar, the pieces of stray hair that have escaped my curls.

Busted, Drake shoots down the bloodlink.

We’ll talk about this later, Cami replies. Vlad and I are fighting for our lives to stop from bursting out laughing, like a couple of fucking teenagers who just got caught breaking curfew.

“So glad you could join us,” she announces out loud, her voice stern, but there’s laughter in her eyes. She gestures toward the raised dais, to the chairs reserved for the two of us on this occasion. Juliette shoots me a wink as we pass her seat, with Dasher and Serena posted behind her. Drake stands diligently over Claire, and Kendra over Fleur. I expect to do the same, but Vladimir just rolls his eyes as he catches my arm and directs my ass right onto the seat before making his way around the back.

Camille is the only one in our family without a Bonded, but behind her stands her Eternal, Tully. He stares straight ahead, his jaw tight, body poised to spring at the first sign of a threat. It’s an impressive display of force, our family sitting tall, unshaken, and stronger than ever after an attempted coup.

Otherworlders from all aspects of the political spectrum sit in their respective seats, as we wait. When the large doors open, for the second time this year, an Italian delegation enters the Crescent City.

The room goes incredibly still, save for the vampires moving toward us. It’s a smaller delegation than we were expecting. I can tell by the way Fleur’s calculating commentary bites through the bloodlink. They’re dressed impeccably well, and the vampire in front has a golden circlet around his crown.

Their king, Vlad offers, stroking his fingers along the exposed skin of my shoulder. The six vampires come to a stop at the end of the dais, and Camille stands. She looks incredible in her role, her black suit as intimidating and severe as the stare she levels on them. When she took over as Dracul, I had no doubt she would be a strong leader, but in this role, she’s stunning. Flourishing. Pride radiates from Vladimir, and I smile.

“Dracul,” the elder vampire acknowledges with a slight bow of his head.