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  Until unable to deny himself, he’d roar and shake against his chains, and jet himself inside her.

  Willow moaned as her fingers darted out to furiously rub her bud. The orgasm swept

  through her fast. She came in hard, wet waves, the vision of Alpha Lyonis coming inside her floating through her mind.

  The release was over too quickly and left her feeling even emptier than she had before.

  Her nipples hurt, her breasts felt tight like twisted leather, and her sex kept pulsing and pounding like a techno beat.

  “I wonder what you were thinking of, Willow. Did you picture some man bending you

  over and taking your body?” Willow shot to her feet and came face to face with Alpha Lyonis Keelan. “Or perhaps laying between your legs and taking you close and dear while staring into your fiery eyes?”

  The one man she wasn’t supposed to let close to her no matter what was a mere ten feet away. He’d seen everything.

  “No, no, not for you. Not for my Willow. You’re too strong for that, aren’t you? Too proud to let some man use your body for pleasure. No, you would think about him pleasing you.

  Did you imagine your dream boy tasting your nipples, cupping your breasts? No? Ah, I see. You saw him tasting your wet pussy, licking you until you screamed. And then what, pretty Willow?

  Did you reciprocate and come thinking about him spilling between your sweet lips? Again no. I underestimate you. Your looks speak everything. Did you ride him in your dream?”

  Willow’s jaw flexed hard and she glared burning daggers of hate at him. How could he even guess so much? How could he read her so easily?

  “You did, didn’t you?” His eyes traveled down over her legs and hips in admiration.

  “You are strong. I could easily see your muscles pumping and working as you took his body. Did you let your dream man come or did you just use him? Did you let him touch your soft body or did you control that too?” Burning heat rushed to her cheeks. Hearing him talk about it was worse than the fact that he saw her touching herself.

  “Fuck you,” she snarled. He took several steps towards her, arousal and something else flickering in his eyes. She took as many steps back and he stopped following, a sardonic grin playing at the corner of his mouth. A kissable mouth, lips neither too thin nor too full but somewhere perfectly in between. One dimple popped in his cheek. She glared harder.

  “Tell me pretty Willow, does your dream boy have a name, a face? Do you have some

  little human waiting for you back home?”

  Willow’s pulse stammered at his words. She didn’t know what shocked her more, the

  jealousy that clouded his words, that he thought she had a boyfriend, or that he thought she was pretty. Well why shouldn’t she have a boyfriend?

  She squared her shoulders at him, lifting her chin another inch. The fact was guys

  practically went running in the other direction when they saw her. Or at the first glint of anger or even her laughter, which her sisters had dubbed “evil doctor laughter.” The guys always went running to much sweeter, softer women. Women like her sisters.

  Not that he needed to know any of that. “As a matter of fact, I do and yes I was thinking about him.” She took a step back from him, ready to hightail it out of there, when her foot caught on something and she went falling back in the air.

  Her stomach sunk like she was falling through the ground and it happened so fast that her mind had trouble processing it. He moved in a blur, catching the strap of her backpack at her shoulder and pulling her into him. He immediately wrapped his arms around her back, covering her in his heat, his scent. Her sex wept and cried yes!

  “As of right now he’s no more. Touch him and I’ll rip his throat out. Do you understand me?” His words were harsh with anger, unlike the smooth charm he usually sported. She found herself nodding though it was the opposite reaction she should have. His hands were creating havoc over her body, rubbing in circles across her lower back, the round curve of her ass. “You are mine now, Willow. I’ve enjoyed chasing you down. It’s been a lot of fun. The animal inside me loves to play, but now the animal and I want something else. I smelled your desire from miles away. It’s...intoxicating.” He cupped her ass in his hands and brought her flush against his arousal. Willow’s gasp turned into a moan as he began lifting, rubbing her across his rigid cock, pushing against her swollen bud.

  “No.” She shook her head in denial. He was breathing unsteadily, the sound delicious to her ears. He leaned down as if to kiss her, but she quickly turned her head away. He chuckled, his mouth finding the hot, sweaty skin of her neck. He licked at her like a cat. Playful little nips.

  “You need me. I know about the new moon and what it does to you. I will have you on this night. Consider it a reward for catching you.” His teeth caught on her ear and tugged.

  Pleasure shot hot and wild inside her, made breathing difficult.

  But anger exploded inside her, too. She wrapped her foot around his ankle and pushed at his chest with everything she had. He let out a curse as he went falling backwards. He glared at her, his hands, for the briefest of seconds, catching onto her backpack straps as if he’d take her with him. But then he let go fell back to the ground.

  Willow didn’t waste any time and took off into the forest using the trees as cover.

  A second later, she heard a terrifying sound.

  Arrrrrrruuuuuuu.

  The howl of a wolf.

  Then the soft pounding of steps coming after her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Stupid, stupid vampire.

  Chloe stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel turban-style in her hair then pulled on some clothes. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was still entirely too early for her to be up. If the sun wasn’t up then she shouldn’t be either.

  What was wrong with him anyways? She touched his back tattoo, scar, thing, and then he runs away in a huff. No, not a huff, more like a cold puff of smoke. Jerk. Well she knew just what she was going to do about that.

  From the first day she arrived in Castle Death, he’d warned her not to go here or there or do this or that.

  “Blah!” she said to the empty room. She pulled on a pair of jeans, a black turtleneck, and some sneakers. Why wasn’t she surprised he’d gotten her everything in black.

  “You think you can just tell me where I can and can’t go? Well, you’re wrong, vamp

  man.”

  She stopped at the door and sighed, a frown pulling at her mouth. Her heart throbbed with pain. She tried to think of how Willow would be—strong, tough, hard as nails. Or even Lily, ridiculously cute and sweet until she got what she wanted. Really she just found herself sitting somewhere neutrally in the middle. There was no doubting what she felt though. It’d hurt when he left. It’d hurt more that he hadn’t come back all night to explain himself.

  Well, the rebel in her was ready to play. Was it immature—totally. Stupid, probably.

  Awesome, absolutely.

  She quietly snuck out of her room and closed the door behind her. The hallway was

  empty as she tiptoed down it. She checked each corridor before sidling down the left hall. It took a lot longer than it would have if she’d just walked like a normal person, but when she reached the “Forbidden Wing” unnoticed she mentally high-fived herself.

  The “Forbidden Wing” as she aptly named it began with a winding stone staircase that although wasn’t lit by torches was lit by cone-shape lights resembling torches. She wondered if whoever decorated the place either had an awesome sense of humor or meant this to be a serious throwback to the middle ages.

  As she started up the stairs, she sighed with relief that stone didn’t creak under her feet.

  She moved silently to the top stair, her heart beating loudly in her ears. The idea of being caught usually scared her, but she was mad dammit. Besides, if he really thought to be her Protector then he was about to learn a lesson: don’t tell a succubus what to do. And don
’t tell her where she can’t go.

  Looking down either side of the dimly lit corridor, she was surprised to see this wing was much smaller than the one she’d been put in on the other side of Castle Death. She counted four rooms down the right hallway and two on the left. It was utterly silent as if no one lived up here at all. But then why didn’t he want her up here?

  She was about to find out.

  Deciding to head right first, she chose the last of the four doors. As quietly as possible, she turned the door handle. It made a metal screeching sound, she whipped her head around to see if the doors would fly open and hideous gargoyles would fly out and eat her, or maybe just one cold vampire. Nothing happened though except her heart running a marathon in her chest.

  The room was pitch black. She squinted and made out the faint outline of a closed off bedroom. Even the window had a sheet over it to keep out the light, and dust had long settled on the wood furniture, floor, and bed like dirty snow. Aside from the barren furniture and unmade bed, the room was empty. She closed the door then hopped to the door across the hall. This one opened easily.

  She blinked twice at what she saw. A small bed, free of dust and dirt. Bedsheets pulled up just to the pillow where it was then folded in a neat, straight line. A bookshelf shorter than her with four rows held slender, small books in between small wooden figurines. The figurines looked old and hand carved. A horse, a warrior with his sword drawn, and a castle.

  A small chest rested against the far wall under a window with white lace veils hanging over it. The chest was painted red with a golden circle on the front and some unrecognizable symbol in the middle. A bird? It was hard to tell, the image was old, the wood cracked, and the paint peeling. She took a step closer, squinting, and a horrible realization hit her. He wore the same bird etched into his skin. Except this bird was faded black, with a beak that was once yellow but now was dull and decaying. She didn’t know what this all meant, but a sickening feeling filled her gut.

  Somehow she managed to close the door then move to the next room. It was empty and

  closed off like the first, completely dark, and covered with dust. Then she stopped at the next.

  Her hand actually shook as she reached for the door handle. Letting out a shuddering breath she turned the handle and opened the door.

  Pain and confusion hit her quick. A woman’s bedroom. Old paintings stood on the wall with a man and a woman holding a baby. She recognized the man, though in this painting he hadn’t yet received the jagged scar he now wore across his cheek. He actually wore a faint smile; he looked relaxed, almost happy. She swallowed hard and quickly closed the door, feeling like she was intruding on someone else’s life.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Chloe yelped and spun around, but it was neither the face nor the voice she thought it’d be.

  It was a woman. A beautiful woman with classical looks. Her face was devoid of makeup but that did nothing to detract from her beauty. She was simple like an old female statue from Greece, yet completely stunning. Her hair was a rich black, heavy, and thick looking. It was twisted in a simple braid that rested on her shoulder and fell down to her stomach.

  The woman smiled at Chloe, concern bracketing her gentle golden brown eyes. She wore a white gown that reminded Chloe of the Victorian Age or something equally old-fashioned. It was tight along the breasts and pushed them up high and out. Yet the rest of the gown was almost a mockery of sexy. It fell wide to her feet nearly covering all of her slippered feet. The sleeves of her dress were cuffed around her delicate shoulders and looked like velvet.

  A thousand questions raged through Chloe’s mind. “Who the hell are you?”

  Of all the way she could have handled the situation, she probably didn’t choose the wisest. But dammit she was freaking the fuck out. Who was this woman? Was she his? Was she his wife? But the woman in the painting had blonde hair. Was this the child all grown up? But then why was there a baby room that looked like it hadn’t been touched in ages?

  The woman’s slightly tilted eyes raised high. “I am Lucinda.” She bowed her head

  gracefully.

  “Chloe,” she replied, her mind working furiously.

  “I know,” the woman said.

  Chloe narrowed her gaze on her. “How do you know that?”

  She smiled with her little pouty pink mouth. “Commander Tyrian informed me of your

  arrival. I was hoping to meet you at some point, though not like this. Are you aware that you are not supposed to be up here?”

  Chloe couldn’t keep from frowning. The woman was nice, even acted genuinely

  concerned and here she was thinking of all the ways she could be related to her new vampire boyfriend. There, she’d finally thought it. She was hooked on Tyrian en Kulev, Commander of the Atal Warriors—the most badass group of warriors in the world.

  He made her heart race, her mind addled, and her body heat like a growing fire. She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to melt that ice he held so tightly wrapped around him, but first... Chloe narrowed her eyes on Ms. Pretty—she had to figure out who she was.

  “Yeah, he told me I wasn’t supposed to come here. Hence why I’m here.”

  Lucinda tossed her head back and laughed. She quickly covered the surprisingly rich, not-so-delicate laugh with her hand.

  “You’ll be good for him, I think. He needs someone to push him. Someone who won’t

  tire and back away, or run from his temper.”

  Chloe puffed with pride inside. “I honestly haven’t seen him angry.”

  “Commander Tyrian grows more and more resolute, impassive even, the angrier he gets, and I must admit,” Lucinda whispered stepping close to grab one of Chloe’s hands, “he’s been in a tiff lately. At first I thought it was because of the whole demon problem that you started, but now I know it’s because of you. ” Chloe decided to wait to decide if that was an insult or not.

  “What demon thing? You mean what happened at the cemetery? How do you know about

  that?” Oh my God was he posting tweets and Facebook posts about her every move or

  something?

  “No, no. I’m friends with Draven you see. He told me about the demon you and your

  sisters summoned before he went to get you. In the meantime, Tyrian has sent warriors out to find this demon and kill it, but they’ve had no luck in finding it. It has proven quite elusive.” She was talking fast and excited now; even her cheeks were turning pink.

  “So at first I thought he was simply getting frustrated with whole situation. But now that I’ve met you, I can see it’s you that has him bothered. How delightfully wicked,” she said, clapping her hands together.

  Chloe opened her mouth then shut it. Twice. She could easily see this woman hanging out with her and her sisters on party night every weekend. Though maybe not in that dress. She’d definitely need a pair of jeans and a tight tank top, too.

  “Wait, who are you? Why are you here? Are you one of the warrior’s mates?” Chloe lit up with an idea, remembering the way her cheeks had blushed at the mention of the warrior Draven. “It’s Draven, right? He is handsome. Is he yours?” The woman’s smile dropped and she stood back a step.

  “No, of course not. The warrior and I are only friends, not even that really. I just talk to him on occasion.”

  “Oh my, I know that look. That’s lust, Lucinda. Have you tried going after him?” The woman’s eyes grew wide.

  “Never! No, I couldn’t possibly. Ever. It would be completely inappropriate.”

  “Why?” said Chloe.

  “Because I am a frimar. ”

  Chloe heart dropped through the floor at her words. Frimar meant only one thing. Blood concubine. A vampire’s blood servant.

  Her voice shook. “Whose?”

  The woman’s eyes lowered in a look of sympathy. “Commander Tyrian’s.”

  Anger, pain, fury spun through her like a storm. “I understand,” she croaked.

&nbs
p; And she did. Of course a powerful vampire like him had a frimar. Many did, though most of them were the warriors’ mates. Had he taken her blood when he ran from the room last night?

  Had he been taking her blood since she got here? She had no idea how much a vampire needed or how often. Bitter, infuriating anger morphed inside of her.

  Now she knew what Willow felt like when she threw things against the wall just to see them break. She forced back the hollow pain that spread through her chest like dead weight and smiled emptily at Tyrian’s frimar. His frimar!

  “I am really sorry,” Lucinda said.

  Chloe nodded at her, but from the corner of her eye, something else caught her vision.

  Tyrian en Kulev stood at the top of the stairs watching her. He hadn’t been there long, she hoped.

  She wanted to say something flippant. She wanted to smile, wave, and bounce back to her room but she could barely breathe past the tightness in her chest.

  Lucinda said something quiet and ducked past Tyrian to go down the stairs. She so didn’t want to do this right now. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him with how she felt.

  “I told you not to come here.” It was the coldest she’d ever heard his voice. This time she actually shivered and wrapped her arms around her chest.

  “Yeah, well you’re an asshole.” Whatever, she was out of here. She marched up to him but his big body blocked the alcove.

  “Move out of the way.”

  “Why are you angry?” At least five really good reasons she was sure. Did he deserve to know? No.

  “I really don’t want to talk you, oh Grand Commander. Let me pass.” His jaw tightened and she spun around, flinging open the nearest door. It was bright and feminine.

  A bitter laugh escaped from her. “Let me guess, this is Lucinda’s room.” She didn’t close the door but stalked across the hall and flung open the door. Her heart skipped a beat. “Let me guess, yours?” she said looking back at him with anger and pain in her eyes. Naturally they’d keep their rooms so close together. So he could have a little snack whenever he wanted.