I felt the warmth trail down my neck into the grass beneath us, and my dick woke from the violence. She had her body stretched out between my legs. Her knees were jammed into the soft spots on either side of my groin, cutting some of the circulation off as she put more of her weight on me. She had me beat. If I moved my head, she could rip my throat out. If I wiggled my body, I’d take a knee or two to the balls, and there was still the throat thing. I had no doubts that she was holding back, too. That was a bigger turn on than the position we ended up in. Her power was intoxicating.
“I submit,” I blurted, my voice like gravel. She pulled her teeth out of my skin and licked the wound her bite left. She ran her tongue all the way up my jaw, to the corner of my lips, where she hovered over me in the sexiest fucking way. Her long bluish hair curtained around us, making it seem like we were the only people there as she stared straight through to my soul. She didn’t kiss me, but her lips were so close that I felt her smile down at me.
Her lips brushed mine in the most delectable way as she uttered, “You taste delicious.” She peeled herself off of me and began to dust the grass and dirt from her naked body. “That took longer than I thought it would,” she acknowledged as I laid in the grass staring at her while I waited for the bite to heal. When she looked down at me, she had the most sinful smile I’d ever seen on her face. Her lips were stained with my blood, and I had this primal feeling of satisfaction knowing that my mate thought I tasted good. I might have lost the fight, but I’d never received a compliment quite like that before. I gave her a self-satisfied grin, and she cocked her hip at me before she added, “Well, come on. We have shit to do today.”
She offered her hand, and when I took it, she pulled me upright. She didn’t let me go immediately. She kept my large hand held tightly in her small one while she looked up at me, studying my face and, oh. Was she checking me for injuries or checking me out while I was naked? The tattoos that covered my body left little skin unmarked, but the glint in her eyes showed me she was intrigued by what she could see. She saw me watching her and snapped her fingers. Cold magic brushed against my skin, making all the bruises and pain fade away. When I looked down to examine my body, I noticed that we were both dressed. Damn. I couldn’t check her injuries now. Lame excuse, right?
“Thanks, Doll,” I marveled after her as we took our time getting back to the patio. I didn’t know if I was thanking her for dressing me, healing me, or kicking my ass. Probably all three.
“I’ll be taking that,” Novak declared as he took Jack’s money from the table. “A pleasure doing business with you, Jack.”
“You should know better, Jack,” Sloane chastised him while shaking her head. “You’re not a gambler. That’s why I always make the bets, babe.”
She picked up a peach from the basket of fruit in the middle of the table and took a big bite as the oldest vampire I’d ever seen strolled onto the patio and addressed her. “Madam, I’ve set up the rooms and given the mage a room with access to the library. I put weapons and a change of clothes in the back of the Audi for you. It’s parked out front with keys in the ignition. I informed Simon that Jack will be accompanied by a friend to search the bar, but may I suggest you lose the robe, Sir.” He turned his attention to Grim for a moment before continuing, “The hounds are patrolling the grounds and Atlas will be inside tonight. I have news that Taylor Caplin is out of holding as well.”
Another bite had the juice dribbling over her full bottom lip. I had to wrestle myself under control before I lunged to catch the drop that was rolling down her chin. Another bite. I turned my back to her and popped the cork on a new bottle of bourbon sitting on the black cart she’d rolled out earlier. Another bite. I didn’t see that one, but I heard it. I poured myself a glass before I turned around to face her again.
“Thank you, Franklin,” she politely replied with a nod of her head while that peach juice rolled from her chin to her chest, “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
“Thank you, Madam.” He bowed his head before walking off.
She grabbed a napkin and ran her fingers under the neck of her shirt, between her tits, to catch the juice that was on my favorite kind of trail. We were all watching her. The reaper shook his head at her as he started to remove his robe. Jack was rolling his eyes with an amused grin on his face. They were used to her antics, but we were not. We were all feeling the bond pretty fucking hard right now. I bet every single one of us was thinking about the sticky path that peach juice left. I knew all five of us would end up discreetly adjusting our pants, too.
“Okay,” Sloane tossed the peach pit into the trees behind her and clapped her hands together, “We should get moving. We’ve got shit to do, yeah?”
And that... was that. I met my mate. I got my ass kicked by said mate. I had blue balls because of that mate. And I was going to hunt some rogues with Stone and my mate.
My mate. It still felt weird to say.
11
Sloane
Saturday Midday
I have mates. I. Have. Mates.
Focus. We’re going hunting.
The thoughts kept circling my mind as Stone drove my Audi SUV due south so we could cut off the rogue pack. They had been given the injection that we were all actively trying to stop. They were a danger to themselves, each other, and everyone else. There was no antidote and no way to save them. Our only option was to destroy them as quickly and as painlessly as possible. How much longer until they started hunting humans? How much longer until they exposed us to the rest of the world?
Holy fucking shit balls. I have mates. I couldn’t believe Father told me that in a letter. I couldn’t believe Papi, Dad, and Jack all knew and didn’t tell me. I kept reading his letter over and over. I knew the ink would disappear soon, and I’d have nothing but a blank sheet of parchment. I read it again and again to see what I could decipher from it. The conversation I had with my father when I went inside played on repeat in my head between the bouts of “Oh gods, I have mates,” and “fuck, I need a drink.”
“Hello,” Father answered his phone in an unusually clipped tone.
“Hi,” I responded shyly, thinking maybe I caught him at a bad time.
“Did you not read the obituaries?”
“No, I haven’t yet.”
“Read them and then we can talk. I’ll be sailing for a couple weeks.”
He hung up on me after that. He was oddly short, but I recognized the code. I searched for my purse, remembering that was the last place I put the letter. I found it in the kitchen and opened it up to seize the envelope while making myself comfortable on the kitchen island. Kicking my feet like a small child, I nervously stared at my name scrawled on the front.
I loved Father’s handwriting. It was a beautiful calligraphy style cursive that I knew he picked up hundreds of years ago. The S was large, and the ends looped around to make a twisting design that connected to the L. The O in my name was a bleeding heart. He only did that when he wrote letters to me. The ANE connected together perfectly, and the end of the E trailed off into a small series of loops that mimicked the beginning of my name. I’d recognize his handwriting anywhere. It was uniquely Nathaniel in all his Renaissance flair. I gently broke the wax seal with the elaborate K and tugged the thick cream-colored parchment out. Laying the envelope to the side, I unfolded the letter and started reading.