Half of me wants to kick him off and run because oh my God
, is that the sound my body makes when his finger’s inside of me?
But the other half…
“More,”
I whimper, my hips shaking and rolling and rocking with each thrust.
“Harder, please.”
His fingers stutter for a second, only for his thumb to rub against my clit. Electricity shoots through me, white-hot and pulsing, and then he’s moving again, circling and pressing and curling his fingers in time with the flick of his thumb.
“Seriously, I’m going to open the door in five seconds,”
Lyre shouts.
“Come for me,”
he demands on a growl.
“Come on my fingers like a good girl before your friend comes in and sees you spread out like this, taking all my fingers inside you.”
His dirty words are too much, and it’s like flipping a switch. My spine bows, arching up off the cushions, and I squeeze my eyes shut as a strangled cry rips from my throat. That strange feeling of energy between us grows, this time it isn’t the feeling of a gentle absorption. It’s like a gushing river, from me to him.
“Four seconds!”
My entire body snaps like a rubber band stretched thin as his fingers return to pistoning, slamming into me harder. Deeper. Just like I’d requested.
And I come like a geyser, bearing down with all the tension in my body as something pours out of me, drenching his hand.
“Three seconds. I’m not kidding, you perverts.”
It’s too much. Too perfect.
“What a good fucking girl,”
he says, slamming into me one last time with the last word.
I collapse, spent, little more than a puddle of Grace on the daybed.
My limbs are impossibly heavy as Caine’s fingers slip free. The room’s spinning, the ceiling moving in circles above me.
“That was…”
I can’t finish the thought. My tongue is thick and clumsy in my mouth, like I’ve the strength even to form words.
Caine hovers over me, his face blurring at the edges. Something’s wrong. My vision darkens around the periphery, narrowing to a pinpoint. The strange connection between us pulses once more, but now it feels as if there’s nothing left in me to pull from.
Like I’ve been drained dry.
“Grace?”
His voice sounds distant, underwater.
My eyelids flutter. Too heavy to keep open. How strange. It’s like… am I fainting?
Lyre’s voice is the last thing I hear, distorted beneath the haze filling my ears.
“Two seconds and I’m coming in there, even if your dick is out.”
Blackness swallows me before I can hear the rest.
CAINE
Grace’s limp body fuels a new feeling, something old and unfamiliar. It’s an emotion I haven’t felt since I was a young pup, long before I came into strength and power.
Terror.
What is it? Fenris asks. He’s been silent, politely blocking himself off from our intimacy, even when that rainbow-haired chit was banging on the door.
She’s unconscious.
“Grace.”
I shake her shoulder, the skin under my palm cool to the touch. Too cool.
“Grace, wake up.”
Her head lolls as I jostle her, hair splaying across the pillow in bleached golden waves. Not a flutter of eyelashes, not a twitch. My stomach drops with dread.
“Grace!”
My voice sharpens with command, an alpha’s order.
Nothing. Just her pale face, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.
What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she waking?
Fenris explodes into panic, his howl ripping through my mind and air both. Strange voices join in, but they’re the least of my worries.
You killed her. You killed our mate!
“Shut up,”
I growl, placing two fingers against the pulse in her throat. It flutters weakly beneath my touch.
“She’s alive.”
The sudden crash of the door flying open makes me whip around, a snarl building in my throat as I storm around the corner and into the hall, Grace still limp on the daybed. Just moments ago, she’d been so alive, so vibrant, with the scent of her climax filling the air.
Now…
“Your dick better be put awa-“
The rainbow-haired nuisance halts as soon as she sees my face, and her eyes flick behind me.
“Call a human ambulance,”
I order, trying to contain the panic edging into my voice. A Lycan King doesn’t panic. We’re calm and composed at every moment.
Fenris howls again, a wild, uncontrolled yodel of pain.
Lyre blinks at me. Something shifts in her strange eyes, until her pupils become slitted. It’s exactly what Jack-Eye had mentioned before, but the mystery of her identity is no longer a priority. Grace needs help.
“You idiot,”
she growls, rushing forward to shove past me with surprising strength for her diminutive, humanoid size.
“You couldn’t hold back?”
My chest aches with the accusation. Did I demand too much of her fragile human body?
I stumble against the wall as she rushes to Grace, pushing me aside as if I’m not the most dangerous predator she’ll ever encounter. As if I haven’t killed for less.
The floor sways with all of our movement.
The woman Grace calls Lyre doesn’t look at me again, her focus entirely on Grace. She presses two fingers to my mate’s wrist, then leans close to her face, watching her breathe.
Under normal circumstances, it would bother me she can see Grace’s naked torso.
Under this circumstance, it… still bothers me. I dash past Lyre to yank a corner of the comforter over Grace, protecting her from the other woman’s view.
“What happened?”
she demands, her voice as sharp as any Lycan’s. The command within it is no less than an alpha’s.
“We were-“
The words stick in my throat.
“Having sex, I got that part.”
Her fingers press gently along Grace’s throat, examining the skin with a scowl. There’s no mark there. Not yet.
“When did she pass out? Before, during, after?”
“After.”
I rake a hand through my hair, hating how dependent I am on this strange woman to care for my Grace.
“She was fine. Then she just… went limp.”
“Ambulance. Right.”
Lyre mutters, fishing a phone from her pocket.
“This far out, it’ll take thirty minutes minimum.”
Thirty minutes. My chest squeezes painfully.
“That’s too long.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.