“You drained her?” Maddox was in his way. The dragon’s eyes furious, battle-readiness etched into his every muscle. Rogue stepped between them, but he couldn’t contain the dragon’s growl. “She wasn’t ready for that.”
“Later, Maddox,” Alfred ordered him. “She’s mine now.”
His until he purged the taint, then his brothers could have at her again. The danger to them was more real than they’d realized. They’d done well to split her blood between them, to flush her with theirs. Smart.
The blood had sustained her. But the taint, no matter how minute, was still there.
Maddox lunged forward, and Rogue barely caught him. “Hold off,” Rogue told him. “He’s helping her.”
“She’s mine,” Maddox challenged him, and the dragon’s eyes were incensed. Cradling Fiona to him, Alfred met his stare and waited. The dragon was powerful. Had always been among one of the strongest creatures he’d ever encountered.
But he would fight his brother and his brother’s fire if he demanded it. “I am not taking her from you forever,” he told him. “You know this. Control yourself.”
The dragon shuddered as he dropped his gaze to the woman in Alfred’s arms and then up again. The mark on his throat drew Alfred like a laser.
“You bit her throat,” Maddox snarled. “She doesn’t want anyone at her throat.”
He understood. “It was necessary.”
“You scared her.”
“I do not have time for this argument.” Her heart grew more sluggish with each passing second. The brink of death drew closer. “I will speak to you all later.” He nodded to Rogue, then continued.
Whatever debate occurred between the others, he tuned out. His focus was solely on the way her heart beat.
His rooms were open, a fire burning in the hearth and the bed made. The windows had been unshuttered, and everything aired out. Fresh furniture filled in the open spaces.
It was not the black coffin of Dimitri.
Satisfied with Rogue’s choices, Alfred set her on the bed and then stripped away the robe that smelled of Fin and his brothers. Bite marks littered her chest. Two more on her thighs. They had been thorough in their choices.
Divesting his own clothes, he ignored the dust on them and then examined his skin. He needed a bath, but it would have to wait. He bit down on his wrist to get the blood flowing before he slid onto the bed and pulled her limp form into his lap. Her mouth opened as he drew his wrist closer, the scent of his blood rousing her.
When her heart beat stuttered and finally faded, only then did he press his wrist to her mouth. Maddox’s roar punched through the near silence in the keep. Fin’s mind reached out to him, but Alfred batted it away. Of the three, only Rogue didn’t question him, yet his concern was there, a palpable force.
For all that he had held himself in reserve, the frost elf had already succumbed to the attraction. Hardly surprising, and Alfred wouldn’t fight the need to be there. At first, nothing happened, but he waited as his blood trickled between her lips.
The silence. The absolute lack of a heartbeat.
Death hung like a curtain.
Then it shredded as she gripped his arm, and her mouth closed over the wound. The scrape of her teeth forced at his skin, trying to widen the slash. Stroking her hair away from her face, Alfred smiled down at her. “Feed, little hellion,” he murmured. His whole body stirred to the contact with hers, but he focused on the gulps she took and the way color flushed across her breasts.
Life suffused her, and her scent curled around him until he wanted to sink his teeth into her again. But he had patience, he had to let her drain him, then he would drain her again.
More and more, she sucked, pulling harder, and his cock grew stiffer with every healthy pull. It defied logic, but then the idea that a mate existed for all four of them had always defied it.
When she fluttered open her lashes and looked up at him with near green eyes, Alfred smiled.
A queen.
Finally.
Chapter 15
“You have escaped the cage. Your wings are stretched out. Now fly.” - Rumi
In its purest form, the act of retribution offered symmetry. It offered payment for a crime. The danger, however, was that retaliation often only furthered the cycle of violence. Yet, what else could I do when the greater offense would be to let a crime go unpunished?
Those thoughts filtered through my foggy brain as I roused to the taste of aged blood. The flavor was beyond anything I’d ever experienced. The effervescence of Fin, the spice of Maddox, and the cool fire of Rogue had become somewhat familiar to me. I wouldn’t say I craved their blood, so much as I craved them.
This? The flavor sent spots of gold flickering like a flipbook of images played on fast forward. Intense aromas of brown sugar, toffee, and lime teased my palate as I rode horses, raced armies, faced the sun, and conquered my enemies. Battle and I were old friends, but I was always alone.
Others wanted to follow me, and I allowed it, but I never encouraged it. When Rogue came into my life, he had his own agenda. He fit, and when battle nearly took him, I saved his life. He did not thank me for it.
No, quite the opposite, he tried to kill me. It says something for our friendship that he tried to kill me for five years before he considered forgiving me.
He has been my friend ever since. My constant companion.
The images raced away, almost too fast for me to hold onto. I gasped when he pulled his wrist from my mouth and then tucked his face down to my throat.
“No,” I tried to squirm, but his arms locked around me.
“Yes, my hellion. I am removing all trace of him from you.” The rasp of his voice was a dark promise all its own, and my whole body seemed to go liquid. Then his teeth sank in, and I wanted to scream. Panic clawed its way up, but he didn’t tear away or rend. His arms tightened, a hug not pinning me down, and with care, he began to stroke my hair.
I was in the shop. I loved this shop so much. We’d worked hard to cultivate the clientele. Mundane and supernatural, they all came to us. I didn’t own the place, no, I just worked there, but I loved it. I loved the feeling infused into every part of the place.
“What’s your favorite part?” The whisper of his voice against my ear had me turning. No one was there, but I looked to the wall of crystals. In the afternoon, when the sun hit them, it became a wall of light. Part of why my perfect house would be one with floor to ceiling windows where I could see the whole world, not some dark, cramped little apartment that faced the brick wall of the building next door.
“It’s beautiful.” Like a ghost, he trailed his fingers down my arm to take my hand. “Show me your house?”
It wasn’t mine yet. Just a place. An idea.
“Show me.” Command and request. Seduction and demand.
With a roll of my eyes, I retreated from the shop and walked out onto the deck of my cliff house. I could see it so perfectly. The salty air blew in from the west. The thrum of the waves a soothing soundtrack, even as birds called in the distance. He was indistinct, but he stood next to me as I leaned against the railing.
“Open…not very defensible.”
I snorted. “I don’t want to hide behind walls,” I confessed. “I’ve lived in the shadows for so long. I want light. I want—this.” Open skies. Open air. Light everywhere.