Bound by Blood and Fang

Chapter 19

Alora

If the kiss with Dimitri Valecourt was gentle…

Then the one with Bane is a raging wildfire.

I’m almost certain the tea has run its course now. I didn’t think I would need the second dose today — not when it had only been a couple of hours since I learned the truth.

Hours since I learned, I’m locked in a Fates-cursed triad bond with the two kings of Elyndor.

Now the heat is roaring back to life and coursing its way through my veins.

It’s the only thing I’m aware of.

Not the door that was digging into my back. Nor the way his wolf lifted me off the damn floor.

Him.

Every inch of me is now pressed against a solid, overheated wall of muscle, and my traitorous body registers it before my brain even has a chance to catch up.

My lungs burn.

And my core aches with an unfilled need that— if I am honest, is not entirely heat-related anymore.

When Dimitri kissed me, I was so caught off guard that I wasn't sure exactly how to feel about it. But my body had responded almost instantly. And when Bane walked in — all broad shoulders and lethal strength, growling like a crossed lover —

The Heat skyrocketed.

Especially after seeing exactly what was waiting between his thick, powerful thighs.

Large is an understatement when it comes to the size of his c*ck. How the both of them fit inside of me that night is a mystery. A delicious one at that that had me clenching my thighs under the table.

His grip tightens beneath my thighs, hauling me higher until I’m forced flush against the hard line of his body. My fingers curl into his shoulders as a low, satisfied rumble vibrates through his chest and right against my breast, causing a breathless sound to escape me.

Heat coils tighter in my stomach.

Dangerous.

So dangerous.

I don’t realize where he’s taking me until he deposits me roughly, the edge of the bed hits the backs of my legs, and suddenly I’m sinking into soft furs, the world tilting around me as Bane's wolf looms over me — broad shoulders, black eyes burning with pure, predatory hunger.

My stomach flips–half in warning and half in something that is far more dangerous.

Every nerve in my body seems to fire all at once as he leans forward, one hand bracing beside my head while the other— slowly— and I do mean slowly, traces its way upward. His clawed fingers follow the open slit of my dress, dragging upward inch by inch, and with every centimeter he gains, my breath fractures a little more, right along with my willpower.

I should stop him.

I should.

Instead, my fingers curl tighter in the furs at my side.

Vorian’s nostrils flare, like he can scent every treacherous reaction that is flowing from my body, and a rough sound rips from his throat — lower now, more strained.

More… conflicted.

His hand reaches higher.

Higher, the tips of his fingers disappear under the silk dress, before suddenly his whole body goes rigid. The sharp growl that follows is rough. Frustrated. Almost… pained when it is ripped from his throat. For half a heartbeat, his grip on my thigh flexes too tightly. The points of his claws are digging into the soft flesh of my upper thigh, causing a soft, traitorous moan to slip from me as my body arches toward his like metal drawn to a magnet.

Then his grip loosens.

Need blooms through my chest, more and more, growing hotter and brighter with every second that passes.

Do I hate that I need this right now? Yes.

Did I plan on stopping him?

Absolutely not.

My body aches for him to keep going.

To keep touching me.

Bane’s wolf turns his head, and I get the perfect view of the sharp line of his jaw, dark scruff shadowing the tense flex of muscle. His teeth grind sharply as he drags in a slow, steady breath through his nose like he’s fighting something vicious beneath the surface.

What’s—

Before I could even finish my thought, Vorian shifted again.

Turning those inky black eyes on to me before he lowers to my throat, his chest shuddering with every ragged breath that ghosts across my skin. Goosefleash erupts as his mouth drags lower along the sensitive column of my neck, his lips rough and heated as he leaves slow, open-mouthed kisses in his wake.

The sound that escapes me is embarrassingly soft.

My hips twitch on instinct.

His answering rumble is pure, dark satisfaction, the vibration of it shooting like lightning straight to my core.

“Mine,” he breathes against my skin, his voice shredded at the edges.

The word sends a dangerous shiver down my spine.

And then—

He moves lower.

Slow.

Intent.

Unrelenting.

My breath stutters as his mouth trails down the valley between my breasts. Each press of his lips is deliberate, like he’s mapping every inch of me and committing it to memory. His hands tighten on my thighs—firm, grounding—as he urges my legs wider without a single spoken command.

Heat floods my face even as my body responds to him.

He pressed more feather-soft kisses over my silk-covered stomach before moving lower. His hands were bunching the skirt of my dress around my hips.

Fates—

My fingers dive into his dark hair when his breath finally ghosts over the aching center of me, the first teasing brush of his mouth through my undergarments is nearly enough to make my back bow clean off the bed.

He pauses there, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

Like he’s savoring driving me out of my mind.

Heat floods my veins, thick and dizzying, my pulse hammering so hard I swear he must feel it where his hands cage my thighs. Every slow second he lingers there stretches the tension tighter, tighter, until I’m trembling beneath him.

The low sound that tears from my throat when he slowly drags my underwear down my legs is anything but soft. His approving growl that vibrates from him when he buries his face between my thighs is full of dangerous intent. His hands tighten around my thighs again —his grip firm, grounding — and the slow, deliberate attention of his tongue on me after that is devastating.

Oh, Fates…

I shouldn't like this nearly as much as I do right now.

But my body—

My traitorous, overheated body arches into him anyway.

Every slow drag of his mouth, every measured breath of heat against my skin, feels deliberate. Focused. Like he’s absolutely determined to wring every last reaction from my body.

And Fates help me…

…it works.

And the worst part?

My fingers tighten in his hair instead of pushing him away.

My breathing breaks apart piece by piece, my thighs trembling where his grip holds them open. I try — I actually try — to pull myself back together, to remember why I should be fighting this.

It lasts all of half a heartbeat.

Because every slow, deliberate flick of his tongue sends another spark of pleasure racing up my spine, the sensation hot and relentless, coiling tighter and tighter in my belly until I can’t think—can’t breathe—can’t do anything except revel in the way it feels.

My hips twitch before I can stop them — a small, traitorous movement — and Vorian’s answering rumble sends heat flooding through my veins. My fingers tread through his short dark hair, my breath coming apart as the heat finally crests too high, too fast—

And that’s when I knew I was in trouble.

Because I’m not just reacting anymore—

I’m leaning into it. His touch.

Chasing it.

Every measured drag of his mouth pulls another broken sound from my throat, my control unraveling faster and faster as the pressure inside me builds, bright and unbearable and far too close to the edge.

“Vorian—”

His wolf’s name comes out wrecked on my lips.

Helpless.

The sound of his name seems to push him further, his responding rumble rougher now, more strained, like the control he’s holding onto is hanging by fraying threads. My body is practically humming at the way he is affected, and I haven't touched him yet.

Now that thought sends a whole new wave of excitement coursing through my veins. My hands itch to trace the hard lines of his body. To feel his muscles twitch beneath my hands.

Correction.

Their muscles.

The realization that I wish it were four hands instead of just two touching me right now has me groaning. It doesn't take much for my mind to place the tall vampire in the room. To feel his cool touch against my skin.

To have the feel of both of them, hot and cold pressed against either side.

The pressure inside me begins to crest—too fast, too hot—and then it snaps. The release hits me out of nowhere and hard enough to steal every drop of air from my lungs.

My head falls back into the furs with a broken moan being ripped from my throat, while my fingers tighten sharply in his hair as I grind my hips into his mouth, chasing every last drop of wildfire that burns through me in hot, shuddering waves.

My chest heaves from exertion, and my pulse roars in my ears.

For a split second, the bond hums strangely—too crowded, too aware—

And I swear that I can feel Dimitri’s presence lurking in the shadows of my mind. I suck in a deep, shuddering breath before opening my eyes.

Little black dots float through my vision as I stare up at the beamed ceiling. When I look down between my thighs, I fully expect to see the inky pools of darkness of Bane's Wolf.

Only instead of black—

They’re green.