Eternal Beast: Mark of the Vampire (24 page)

She couldn’t think, couldn’t reason. Her mind swarmed with warning, but her body refused to listen. His fingers played with her nipple, tugging, making her skin tight around her muscles while his hand circled the opening to her pussy.

“I’m waiting, D,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “And it’s not an easy thing to do. Not when I want to watch my fingers disappear inside that pretty pink cunt of yours.”

Dillon pressed herself back against his hand.

“That’s right,” he said hungrily. “Arch your back, but you’re going to have to tell me where you want to be scratched.”

“There.” It was one word, but she’d managed it.

“More,” he commanded, sliding his fingers through her wet lips to the hot, tight bud of her clit.

The sublime heat, the aching need, the willingness to beg, and inevitability of surrender all slammed into her at once.

“Christ, I don’t want to beg, but I will—I fucking will!” she cried out, utterly lost to her desire, nearly in tears she was so desperate. “Put your hands inside me and fuck me, Gray. Fuck me until I scream.” She moaned, hissed, pressed back against his hand. Oh God…His hand. “That’s
my
jaguar. It belongs inside
me
.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath, felt his hand still. “Inside you, outside you, beneath you.” His fingers eased back. “You want this,” he whispered, circling his finger at the wet entrance to her cunt.

“Yes,” she uttered, the anticipation driving her insane.

“Just one?” He slid one finger inside of her, stretching her.

She gasped.

“How about two?”

“Yes!” she cried breathlessly, hungrily. “God, yes. Please, Gray.”

He slipped a second finger inside her.

Her hips jerked and she moaned. This was madness. Delicious, intense, overwrought, wondrous madness.
And she didn’t want it to stop. Ever. Because if it did, her mind would take over—that part of it that refused to allow lust, real lust in—the kind that came with feeling and connection.

“The other fingers are getting lonely, D,” he groaned, his voice rabid and raw. “They want to be together. They want to fuck you too. They want inside your silky wet pussy so badly. Can they all come to the party, baby?”

“Yes,” she gasped, arching her back even further, giving him the access he needed to enter her good and hard and deep. “Yes, goddamn it. Yes!”

When all five of his fingers entered her, Gray cursed. “The way your cunt took me in, inch by inch of drenched heat. Fuck, and the way it’s suckling my fingers.”

“More,” Dillon begged, pumping against him, sending his fingers as deep as they could go. “I want more; you want more.”

“Dillon.”

The warning in his voice nearly made her come. “I know your cock is screaming to get out and inside me—feel what your fingers are feeling.”

He growled like a Beast and drove his fingers up hard within her slick channel.

Dillon sucked in air. “Get behind me, Gray! Take me. Ride me so fucking hard, we both black out.” She bucked against his hand, the burning sensation rioting within her. “Now, please. I need you. Only you.”

He cursed again, then again—but kept thrusting his fingers inside of her, so deep, playing with the sensitive flesh of her clit. “Goddamn it, D.”

The cave scented of her heat and echoed with the sounds of her pleading cries. “Why is that wrong?”

She heard him unzipping, then felt his hand slip from her cunt. “Mounting you like a fucking animal—”

“I am an animal!” she cried out, feeling him behind her. “And you love it. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

He gripped her hips, spread her wide. “Look at you. Even in this dim light, I can see how your pussy glistens for me.”

She could feel the head of his cock against the wet entrance to her body. “Gray, please,” she begged.

He entered her slowly, one inch at a time. “God, baby, you’re so beautiful. So wet, so tight. The way your pussy sucks me in.” He cursed, moaned. “Oh, shit. I knew you would feel like this. The perfect fit, your candy walls fisting around me.”

Shards of white-hot pleasure assaulted her as he pushed all the way home. She didn’t want to think. No, it was a bad idea. And yet she couldn’t stop herself from agreeing. Yes, it was the perfect fit. She’d never experienced anything like it. And maybe she never should again if she wanted to a live a moderately happy existence on the run, without him.

She canted her hips, trying to draw him in deeper. But he withdrew, and for a moment she wondered if he was going to leave her in misery. But he only gripped her hips tighter and slammed his way home. She gasped at the delicious brutality and cried out for more, her muscles convulsing.

Sensing what she wanted, what she needed, Gray withdrew again, then thrust back inside of her. Dillon’s clit ached with the pain of wanting release. She wanted
it so desperately, and yet as Gray moved inside her, hitting the very spot that throbbed and pulsed, she prayed she could hold out. Never had she felt such pleasure or such pain in the empty wasteland where her heart should be.

The sudden need to connect with him made her sit up, made her press her back to his chest. Oh God, yes. The angle of his thrust hit a new and wondrous spot inside of her and she wrapped her arms around his neck and looked over her shoulder.

Her entire body clenched with desire at the sight of him.

Gray Donohue was a fierce and hungry beast. His hair was wild, his eyes narrowed, his face contorted into a mask of diabolical intensity. And then that face descended on hers and his mouth claimed her in a ravenous kiss.

As his cock worked in and out of her pussy, as his tongue fucked the inside of her mouth, Dillon knew this was something beyond what she was capable of, beyond what her tiny scrap of an unbeating heart could ever hold on to.

This was her true mate, her perfect fit. And yet there was nothing perfect about either one of them or this up-and-down, push-and-pull thing that was going on between them.

Dillon felt the rising heat of imminent orgasm and she allowed her thoughts to flee. Her thighs trembled, her nipples were hard and aching, her belly clenched, and then Gray’s hand—the one that was marked by her jaguar—moved over her pelvis and claimed her cunt. She was soaking wet, her lips, her inner thighs, and
Gray groaned into her mouth as he slipped his fingers between her folds and found her clit.

The feeling of his fingers on her sensitive flesh had Dillon crying out and dropping back down to her hands. Gray pounded into her so hard she was afraid he would rip her in two. And yet she arched her back and pressed against him for more. She felt like her mind was unhinged, that her body was working on its own. Her hips jerked and shook as he rubbed her clit. The heat building inside her was about to spill over. She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t hold on and yet she was afraid to climax. Afraid to look at him. Goddamn it, she was just fucking afraid period.

“Oh, yes,” he uttered hoarsely, savagely. “There it is. The walls of your pussy…Shit, it’s like an earthquake. Come for me, baby.”

His breathing went rabid, and she felt his cock swell. Or, God, maybe that was her, but she was gone, done for. His fingers played her clit in a heavy burst of movement and she screamed into the cold air of the cave as she came. Light, heat, rocking waves of unbearable beauty coursed through her as she shook, shuddered.

Behind her, Gray groaned and slammed into her with five possessive thrusts. She felt his hot seed pour into her body, lapped up by the convulsing walls of her pussy, and she wanted to die. This was how it was supposed to be. This was how it was supposed to feel when someone cared about you, connected with you, wanted to give you everything and then some. This was how it felt when someone wanted more than just a mindless fuck from a faceless cunt.

Tears blurred her vision and she let them fall because he couldn’t see her in the dim light of the cave.

Now she knew. Now she would know the truth and have to live every day without it because she was too afraid to give herself over to it.

To him.

To a life with her true mate.

Blinking away her tears, she lay back against him, shaking, his cock still inside her, his arms wrapped around her.

“Gray?” she whispered, forcing back the weight of emotions running through her and down her cheeks.

“Yeah?”

She didn’t know what made her ask it or what made it come to her mind, but as she asked, she put her hand over his hand—over the mark. “What happened to the bear? After it knocked me out?”

There was a pause, and for a moment she heard only the sound of his breathing. “I chased it away.”

Her insides clenched. Not from sexual heat, but from something far more worrisome. “How?”

“It was afraid of me,” he said, his mouth close to her neck, her ear. “How I sounded, how I acted.”

She shivered. “And how was that?”

He tightened his hold on her. “Vicious, uncompromising, ready to take death, ready to face it.”

She felt something on her neck—sharp, blades. No. Fangs. And then he whispered, “Like a male who was protecting his true mate.”

Dillon stilled. She waited for the feeling of apprehension, of trepidation to come over her at his words.
But it wasn’t there, never came. In that brief instant, all she felt was safe.

“You can deny this all you want,” he said softly, gently. “But you and your pussy belong to me.”

Heat spread within her, and for a moment she thought that Gray was going to press her forward, back onto her hands and knees and take her again. But instead he cursed and gripped her possessively, protectively.

“Hey.” Concern pulsed within her. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“I can hear them.”

“Who?” She lifted her head so she could see his face, his eyes. Both were strained, confused. “Gray, what’s happening?”

“The Impure warriors,” he uttered, shaking his head. “I can hear them in my head. It’s not possible. How I can hear them from so far away?”

The cave felt suddenly colder, and Dillon pressed herself even closer to him. “I don’t know. What are they saying?”

He didn’t answer her immediately. His gaze seemed unfocused, as though he was listening. Then his gunmetal eyes flickered down and pinned her with their intensity. “They’ve found the way into the Order’s frequency, their mainframe.” A low curse bled from his throat. “And it seems as though the Order has found its way to them.”

T
he night air crackled with raw energy as each
paven
flashed to the exterior deck of Alexander’s lighthouse in Montauk. Lucian and Helo, then Erion and Nicholas, then Phane. Below them, the sea was angry and crashed against the rocks with curls of white spray.

“Come inside, brothers,” Alexander said, holding the door open.

Erion was the first to enter, his gaze taking in the sparsely furnished room and the dim lighting. There were seven chairs set around an oval black marble table. Each place was set with a glass of blood.

As each brother took a seat around the table, Erion noticed that one of their brood was missing.

He turned to Phane, who had dropped into the chair beside him. “Where’s Lycos?”

The hawklike
paven
turned his gaze to Erion. “He said he’d be along in a few minutes. He was finishing up with an uncooperative source.”

“In Norway?” Erion asked.

“No. That was a dead end.” Phane grinned. “Literally.”

Damn wolf and his kills. Did that
paven
have to act like a Beast as well as look like one? Erion narrowed his gaze. “I hope you didn’t make a mess, and if you did, I hope you cleaned it up.”

Phane’s grin widened, his fangs dropping low. “Always.”

Turning back to the assembled brothers around the table, Erion said, “Lycos will be here soon. Shall we begin?”

Across from him, Alexander nodded. “Helo, Lucian, and I met with the Eyes. With Whistler.”

To his brother’s left, Lucian snorted. “Who wasn’t very cooperative, but your sea-loving boy over here was pretty damn impressive with him.”

Beside Lucian, Helo shook his head. “Not so impressive. The male got away.”

“No,” Alexander amended. “Whistler was
flashed
away.”

Something hummed inside of Erion, and he reached for his cup of blood. He didn’t drink it, but just his hand around the thick glass steadied him for what was coming next.

“We think Cruen pulled him in,” Lucian said, reaching for his own glass of blood and knocking it back in one quick swig. His nostrils flared and he made a face. “This is chicken piss compared to my Bronwyn’s blood.”

“Why would Cruen be using the Eyes?” Phane asked, ignoring Lucian’s comment. “Especially when they can be bought so easily.”

“Perhaps Cruen
is
paying,” Helo said, glancing out the massive windows to the dark sea.

“Or Whistler is,” Alexander remarked. “In his hide. Torture, fear…sometimes a stronger motivator than cash.”

Lucian pointed at Helo’s glass of blood. “You going to drink that?”

Helo turned and snorted at him. “Thought it tasted like chicken piss?”

“It could taste like your piss right now,
Mutore
. That’s how thirsty I am.” He grumbled softly, “Damn Breeding Male gene. Never-ending hunger for blood, for sex—”

“Ease up now, Luca,” Nicholas said from the other side of Alexander. Then, while Helo pushed his glass toward Lucian with a grin, Nicholas turned and addressed the group. “We have news as well. Erion and I found Cruen’s nephew.”

Silence gripped the table, and every brother turned to Erion.

“He is a
mutore
,” Erion told them, the words still strange on his lips. “Made from a shifter mother and a Breeding Male.”

“A shifter mother?” Helo repeated, moving forward in his chair. “As in an actual race of pure shifters?”

Erion nodded. “Seems to be.”

“Where are they? Do they have a compound?”

“No idea, Helo. Didn’t ask.” They were looking for only one mysterious creature at the moment. “And that’s not even the big reveal, brothers.”

Helo narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Erion glanced at Nicholas, then back to the three
others. “The
paven
said that his uncle, that Cruen, is a
mutore
too.”