Sanibel Surrender Vampire Werewolf Menage (Fanged Romance Series Book Five)

Turning to the side, Molly watched her reflection in the long dressing mirror settled against an aged armoire. Her face was flushed, her lips open and panting. Her blonde curls fell over the edge of the deep copper tub, glinting in the candle light. “I’m nearly ready,” she said to her mirrored image. When she brought herself to the very cusp of climax, she backed off, waiting for her heartbeats to slow, needing the torment. The pleasure pain that teased her body the way an actual lover might. Then she started again, inching her fingers inside…”

“Molly.”

“Yes!”

“Molly.”

“Please!” Her body bowed, pulling away from the back of the tub.

“Now, out of the tub with you, lass,” a tightly gruff voice demanded.

Molly dropped her wayward sponge and gripped the lip of the tub. “What the hell!” In the mirror’s reflection, she saw
him
with his powerful arms folded across his brawny chest -
him
, who was the epitome of her darkest fantasies. And she couldn’t have him, not yet. “Heath, you cannot be in here!”

Paying her no heed, he stayed where he was, his midnight hair sliding over a bare, dark shoulder. Mercurial eyes fixed on her with a devilish gleam. No, he wasn’t going to listen, had plans of his own. “Christ Almighty, you’re a lush one, all curves and creamy, Irish skin. Need you on the bed for what I’m about to do to you. I promise you, lassie, I’m far better than your own hand.” That full mouth kicked up at the corner, tightening his unshaven jaw. His silver gaze dropped to her breasts for a slow moment and then returned to her face.

From behind, another set of hands reached around her shoulders, a hot breath tickling her nape. “I must agree. Don’t leave me wondering if you are as creamy on the inside as you are on the outside.” Ten fingertips scaled her nipples, plucking in opposite rhythms. “Part your thighs,” a gravely, nearly inhuman voice whispered. “Let us see.”

She swallowed thickly. “Us?”

“You have to know, my sweetest Molly.” Heath stepped closer. “That we can bathe no other, apart from what is
ours
.” He kneeled down, completely covering her smaller hand with his larger one.

“W-what are t-those?” Trying to wrench her hand away, Molly was stunned to find claws emerging from Heath’s fingertips, long and lethal.

“What better to protect you with, than my claws,” he replied with a wolfish smile.

“A-and those?” She blinked in horrified astonishment as canines slid over his pouty bottom lip. “Y-you have…fangs?”

In a blurring movement, Heath flipped her hand, exposing her inner wrist. “Fangs, you say?” he asked angrily. “Shall I bite and show you the difference between our kind and a bloodsucker? A lesson, just so you will understand you are to never go near them?”

Behind her, those anonymous nipple-plucking hands moved to her knees, parting her. “Heath,” he warned, “she doesn’t know about the bloodsuckers, so stop frightening her.” When she turned to see her mystery lover’s face, he stopped her by pressing his lips to the side of her throat, his teeth scraping the tender flesh found there. “We don’t want her so tense that she cannot accept her males. This is a night made for
her
pleasure, to worship this rarity for which we have been blessed.”

Heath’s fingers then curled around Molly’s wrist, his lips brushing the inside of her palm. “Aye, I just…she cannot fall victim.”

“I know.”

Keeping his hold of her wrist, Heath lowered his head and trailed his tongue over her knee, settling his chin there. He openly stared at her sex. “She seems a wee bit small for even
one
of us.”

“Us?” She repeated. No matter what her body was telling her, Molly knew what she
needed
to do. “I need to g-get out of here.”

“You think to run from me?” Heath said, helping her to stand, his eyes trailing the sudsy water sluicing over her flesh.

“Run?” That just pissed her off. “No.” Molly glared at Heath. “I’m going to walk.” From behind, those mystery hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her from the copper tub. And as he moved her to stand on the floor, he slid Molly’s bared sex down his muscled thigh. Yes, he was naked, too, and the delicious friction set her off again. When a heady moan escaped, she couldn’t stop it if she tried. She felt as though her body had aimed its white flag right at Heath. “This has to be a dream.”

Heath smiled, touching his forehead to hers. “Is it, now?” His long, silky hair curtained Molly’s face, obscuring her vision, until all she saw was Heath. Reaching up, she combed her fingers through his hair, twisting the strands around her fingertips.

Behind her, Molly’s mystery lover whispered, “Dreams have a way of surfacing, Molly.” With his strong hands, he slid her sex back up his thigh, his sparse hairs tickling her in unimaginable places, his flesh grinding against hers. “Whether you are ready for them to surface or not doesn’t matter. Destiny is what destiny is.”

“Question is, lass.” Heath said, pulling her away from the other man, settling her on her bare feet. “Are you ready to answer its call?”

Molly thrust out her hands, pushing at his bare chest a few long seconds before pulling him towards her again. Her mind pinged back and forth. “Maybe.” In this moment, she wanted to feel someone,
anyone
, who actually desired her. So she spread her fingers wide against Heath’s chest, slid her fingertips over his velvet skin, following his corded muscles as they cinched and bunched under her hands. Without conscious thought, her lips met his chest. And when she bit him, Molly curled her fingertips and slashed his nipples with her nails.

“Ah,” Heath groaned. When his body gave a hard shudder, a strange glow emitted from him, so very blue and so terribly frightening, though he still appeared entirely human. In the next instant, his be-clawed hands shot out on either side of her shoulders, sandwiching her and her anonymous lover against the tiled, bathroom wall. Heath’s tongue darted out, one too long to be
exactly
human, and licked her face with one wet stroke. “She plays with her claws.” Against her, Heath was growing, his muscles tripling in size, his height elongating until well past seven feet. Molly dropped her hands, gasping, yet he gripped her wrist again, albeit gently. “Feel what I bring you.” He wrapped her fingers around his thick length, fractionally moving his hips, pumping against her palm.

“Now that’s a sight,” her anonymous man whispered into her ear, his naked sex sliding up the crevice of her ass. “I smell your arousal, Molly. Heather, salt and wicked summer nights, ooh, cannot wait to taste you there.”

“Heath,” Molly whispered, going back to the cusp of her orgasm, “what
are
you?”

Three breaths in and one slow exhale.

Then doubled.

Three breaths in and one slow exhale.

Behind the door, she heard an answering hiss.

That door suddenly exploded before wood flew through the air in tiny, splintering daggers. A creature stepped through, filling the doorway, so large it barely fit through the threshold. His anger was palatable, his desire obvious. With his finger and his sex, he pointed directly at Molly. “Mine!” he screamed furiously.

Molly ducked low, sliding to the side and heading down what felt like a million slate steps. Her feet slippery from the bath, she barely caught herself at the first landing before she went head first over the balustrade. She had to make it to the private elevator, the only available exit from Gage’s penthouse apartment other than the impossible stairwell. Through passing windows, she saw the full moon slinking behind the Miami coastline, stunned to realize night had fallen. How long had she been bathing? When she finally reached the elevator, Molly slammed her shaking hand against the control panel, hitting the buttons repeatedly. From above, she heard grunts and bellowing. “Come on!” she willed the elevator. “Come on!” It wasn’t moving, wasn’t lifting to the penthouse floor. To the left of the control panel, she realized the elevator door had been locked for the night, the card key missing. She hadn’t a clue where it might be and, by the sounds growing from the upstairs antics, she hadn’t the time to search for it or go back up for her cell phone. So, Molly quickly surveyed her alternatives, eyeing the balcony. Could she scream for Jayce or Bren?

There was only one way to find out.

Molly tore through the media room, her knees going high, gaining momentum. When she flipped the lock and opened the sliding glass doors, clawed hands slammed her to the balcony floor, pinning her against the concrete.

“Mine!” He grazed his whiskered jaw against her cheek, his long canines nipping at her hair, sliding her curls between his teeth. This one’s masculine scent overwhelmed her, wild outdoors and line-dried linen, his heat scorching her back. “Catch. You. Mark you before it’s too late.”

“Jayce!” she screamed. “Jayce!”

A bellow sounded from across the tower, far louder than the rest. Bren was yelling for Jude to cover Tatum while Jayce was barreling her way. Jumping from balcony to balcony, rage painted his body with glowing red. Violent, cold waves resonated over Molly when Jayce landed right next to her, his feet slamming down on the balcony. With canines draping his chin, Jayce growled, suddenly swinging a winged man from his be-clawed hand.

“You dare enter my den?” Jayce yelled, the sound of his guttural voice sending chards of ice through Molly’s body. He brought the man above the balcony, dangling him. His legs were kicking at Jayce in a fruitless attempt to escape.

“They didn’t tell me this was your territory,” he whimpered. “I swear it on my life, Alpha Jordan!”

“Considering your life is now worthless,” Jayce shot back, “you have nothing to swear by.”

“I’m only following orders,” he pleaded, his hands waving frantically. “Don’t kill the messenger.”

“Am I to believe a Gryph has turned Carrier Pigeon?” Jayce shook him until his eyes bulged. Bren jumped down behind Jayce, his body glowing, his vibe just as dangerous but less controlled. “Then go right ahead. Have the balls to deliver your message directly to the Alpha of North America.” Another shake. “Go on, now, do your worst.”

The man looked straight at Jayce and said, “She’s ours.”

Molly was now behind Heath, his arms and legs spread wide, protectively, his claws extended toward the intruder. Another arm, she hadn’t a clue who it belonged to, wrapped her waist in an impregnable hold. Since Molly was the only ‘she’ here, it didn’t take three guesses to figure out this Gryph thing was referring to her. But why would he say she’s ours?

Bren laughed mirthlessly. “Funny, you don’t look like an idiotic fledgling fresh from the academy. You must have drawn the short stick, pal. Lost a bet?” He stepped closer, raking his claws over one ebony wing, the loosened feathers swirling into the night air. “In the dead of night, you entered my pregnant female’s perimeter, coming to claim her sister.” A high wind whipped Bren’s hair from his face, exposing his savage smile. “So, Gryph, go on, tell us who fed you to the wolves?”