“The moment I’m inside that needy pussy of yours, you’ll come.”

“Then let me take you in my mouth.” It was a daring, wanton thing to say, but she’d done it before, for Mr. Collins—

Quicker than she could follow, he’d seized her mouth with his own, his tongue coming in to tangle with hers, overpowering her mind. She whimpered.

You will not think of him or anyone else when you are with me, Elisa. Not ever. Do you want my cock in your mouth? Do you want to swallow my come into your body?

Yes, Master. Please.

“Say it aloud.” He gazed down at her with implacable eyes. “I want to see your sweet lips form those words.”

“I want your . . . cock in my mouth. I want you to come there, so I can swallow it. Have it inside of me.”

“Every drop.”

“Yes. Please.”

He rose on his knees then, opened the jeans. He didn’t give her the pleasure of seeing him fully naked, hadn’t even removed his shirt, but she knew that was part of this, too. The searing pleasure of denial. But when that long, hard cock stretched out just above her face, the tip already glistening slick with his arousal, her lips parted, throat arching as she reached for him, forgetting his rule about not moving. But this time he didn’t seem to mind as much. He guided the head into her mouth, watched with intent eyes and firm mouth as she took him in, and kept taking him, until he reached the back of her throat. She’d learned to relax those muscles, and she did now, giving him greater reach. She wished she could take all of him, all the way to the base, but he was a longer, thicker man than . . . He was long and thick.

His eyes gleamed at her hasty correction. When he began to withdraw, she sucked on him, tasting him with her tongue, savoring his unique flavor. Her body shuddered, saturated with want, craving release, and yet there was such a sweet anticipation to it, she didn’t mind being on this cusp for him.

Thrust and withdraw. He was slow about it at first, making her hypercognizant of the way she must look, her mouth stretched around his girth, the way her eyes pleaded as they looked up at him, wanting more, and more, and more. His face got tighter, the cords of his neck hardening. His thigh muscles rippled in the loosened jeans, and she so wished her hands were free so she could fill her hands with his buttocks, feel them flex and ease in that pumping rhythm. She’d run her hands along the columns of his thighs as she knelt at his feet. His hands would be in her hair, forcing her to do his bidding, whatever he wanted from her. She’d never been so focused on one thing, and so mindless at once.

His cock convulsed in her mouth, and she was ready for him. He became far more rough and powerful then, almost bruising in his hold on her head and throat, but she reveled in it, as well as the jet of heat, the flood of seed he gave to her. A hoarse cry broke from his lips, his body pressed down on her, holding her to his desires.

When he was done, her lashes were wet with the strain of taking him, but she licked and cleaned him thoroughly. He pulled free an inch at a time, waiting for her to do her job properly, until she took a final taste of his salt and musk from the tiny slit at the end. Dropping to an elbow next to her, he let his gaze wander over her flushed, trembling body. If he touched her at all, she knew she’d explode. He cocked his head, gazing down between her legs.

“You’re so wet, your curls there are gleaming with dew, like grass after a rainstorm. I want you to come for me, Elisa, without me touching you. Contract the muscles inside of you, the way your body has been doing on its own. Contract and then release, as if my cock is stretching you, working you hard. Do it while I watch.”

At first it was difficult, to do something consciously that the body did in an involuntary way. But the first time she managed it, a shudder went through her. He showed his fangs, an approval. “Keep doing it. Maybe I’ll take you to the edge, then make you stop.”

She kept doing it, until she was doing it quite frantically, her breath rasping in her throat, hips bucking as if he were thrusting into her in truth. She kept her gaze on his face, goaded by the raw lust in his eyes, as if he’d devour her whole any moment now. Abruptly, he leaned forward as she continued to undulate. His lips parted and the tip of his tongue traced a slow, slow circle around her nipple. Then he gave her a little nip.

She contracted hard, a guttural cry ripping from her throat. He withdrew several inches, watching every expression as her body took over, performing at his demand with nothing more than his eyes stroking her. The climax swept over her so intensely she was shocked to feel a wetness gush onto her thighs like a man’s seed. He bent then, brought his mouth to that offering as she was still going. A full-throated, raw shriek tore from her at the first contact of his mouth.

Inside me, inside me, please fuck me, fuck me . . . She used his word, because she’d become the feral animal now, no patience for modesty.

He shifted, and she snarled her pleasure as he buried his still-erect cock deep inside of her, seating himself to the hilt. She rocked violently against him, milking everything she could from that moment, her lips drawn back, eyes glazed as he watched her, completely in control of her, of whatever he wanted from her.

But she wasn’t so far gone that she couldn’t see that she’d spun a trance of her own. The hard set of his mouth, the glitter of his eyes, were also pure male animal, lost in everything she was giving him.

Give it all to me.

And she did, until exhaustion claimed her and she wound down, shuddering, trembling, her body suddenly so heavy and drained she could barely do more than murmur as he released her arms and legs and shifted her into a curl inside his arms, the curve of his body.

She fell asleep like that, not thinking a thing about laundry or chores or anything else but Malachi. Something about that gave her a twinge of sadness, but she didn’t chase it. He didn’t let her. He kissed her softly, again and again, an oral lullaby that took her into dreams. For the first time in a long time, she was replete, inside and out.

As she slept so deeply she might have been knocked unconscious, Mal waited, his mind inside of hers. When he felt that tentative touch he expected, he spoke, knowing Elisa was far beyond them both, in dreams.

You’ve been a comfort to her, but I’m here now. Stay out of her head, boy. This is my territory now, and vampires don’t share. I’ll take care of her.

It was a direct, male-to-male warning, and Jeremiah understood it, loud and clear. He withdrew, allowing Mal to settle in with the girl, his mind as well as his body surrounding her. In a couple hours, he’d wake and take her again. Throughout the daylight hours, he’d re-impress the claim and the lesson. Of course, he realized he’d just staked a very obvious claim, one even more significant than the one he’d made the day she arrived. He knew what it meant. Or rather, what it could mean, and what it couldn’t.

One of the things it meant was he had one more question for Elisa, but he had to talk to Danny first. He’d need to be ready to have a strip taken out of his hide for even proposing it, but thinking about Elisa’s earlier thoughts, he figured some things were just worth an ass-kicking.

Wryly he realized he had a touch of nervousness, like a beau going to a formidable matriarch to ask permission to court her daughter. But it wasn’t like that. This was practical, necessary for what was ahead. A big part of him didn’t even want to bring Elisa into it, but he knew it was important. She’d proven to him tonight that she could handle it. There was a room in her heart open that wasn’t in his, and his intuition told him that room would be critical to securing a future for some of her fledglings.

But that was the beginning and end of it. He knew what was in her heart, so close to the surface he could see it, even with a mere second mark. As a vampire, he couldn’t give her that, but he’d never met someone who deserved it more. He wouldn’t take it from her, no matter what. What he wanted to do would be permanent . . . but temporary.

He grimaced. Yeah, he was sure Danny would see it that way.

26

“I NEED to third-mark Elisa.”

There was a significant pause on the other end of the line, long enough that Mal thought it might be static interference, but then Danny spoke. “You’re wanting to keep her? How does she feel about that?”

“It’s not like that. She can still come home when this is all done. The Council doesn’t have a problem with a third-mark servant being away from her Master, as long as she’s serving in another vampire’s household, and you’ve already second-marked her.”

“Mal, you’re confusing me, probably because you’re not getting to the point, which both annoys me and makes me suspicious. Why would you want to third-mark her, if you’re only going to give her up?”

He sighed. “I think it’s possible four of the fledglings can learn enough control to get along passably well in the right vampire’s household. The host vampire would have to take them on purely as wards, have the right temperament to work with them, safely test how independent they can be over time. He or she would also need the compassion to handle things properly if the fledglings never get past the transition bloodlust or it intensifies as they get older. But while we work with them here, getting them ready for such households, I need to travel and meet with the prospects. I want Elisa’s eyes, her feel for their . . . hearts.”

There, he’d said it, as foolish as it sounded, but dealing with the cats had always been intuitive to him. It meant sometimes he’d seen things even the animal behaviorists who’d visited hadn’t. There were some things that existed outside of science. His chronic practicality, as Elisa called it, and her maternal bond with the fledglings, would be the proper combination of intuition. He was certain enough of it to be having this most awkward phone call, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why he felt it was awkward. Which was okay, because Danny managed to do that all on her own.

“So you’ve become attached to her.”

“It has nothing to do with that.”

“But you’re not denying it.”