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  The vampire queen cupped her breasts and pushed them together, an act no doubt designed to drive him mad with desire. Her head fell back, the tendons in her neck straining as his finger fucked her. Her juices and his blood mixed together and ran down his hand, puddling in his elbow.

  With a scream she came, jerking so hard he felt an excruciating pop in his knuckle. “I hope you enjoyed that,” she ground out between clenched teeth, “because I require sex dozens of times a day.”

  Before Brynn could do more than stare in momentary disbelief, she dropped her face between his legs again. Her mouth closed over a sensitive spot in his inner thigh, and for a moment, he thought she was going to lick him the way she had earlier, but then her fangs slid through his flesh and a jolt of pain shot straight to his brain. With a shout, he sat up, tried to tear her from his leg, but she shoved him effortlessly back on the bed. When he attempted to kick her, she pinned his leg in a powerful, painful grip.

  As she drained his blood, nausea swirled in his stomach, joining the crazy spins of the chamber. More rapidly than he would have believed, he grew too weak to struggle. She lied, he thought. She was killing him. She was filling her body with his blood because he refused to fill her with his seed.

  That was his last coherent thought before darkness took him.

  Chapter 3

  Brynn woke to the delicious sensation of a mouth sucking his cock. Eyes closed, he kicked his head back into the pillow and bucked his hips, driving deep into the warmth. Sorla was torturing him again, but he didn’t care. Maybe she’d let him come. Maybe. He thrust harder, deeper into her mouth, and reached down to grasp her head, to hold her there while he exploded.

  Something was wrong. Her hair . . . it was too short. He opened his eyes, and…fuck! A man’s head bobbed between Brynn’s legs.

  Sorla stood next to the bed, naked, the elegant curves of her body highlighted by licks of flame-light from the hearth, her half-lidded gaze watching him hungrily. A wicked smile tipped up one corner of her mouth, and her fangs had punched down to make dents in her lush lower lip.

  “Continue,” she purred.

  Snarling, he shoved the man away. “Damn you.”

  Sorla’s smile grew wider, her fangs elongating even more as she dragged one sharp nail down her abs, leaving behind a white line on her creamy skin. “Will you fuck me now?”

  “Never.”

  She sighed and gestured to the nude man, who still kneeled between Brynn’s thighs. “Then Henry will fuck you. Turn over.”

  The cold burn of panic sliced up Brynn’s spine. “You win, bitch,” he gritted out. “I will service you, but I’ll not like it.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” She sent Henry away and crawled onto the bed, her movements sinuous, seductive, and already he knew that what he’d said about not liking it was going to be a lie.

  Brynn eyed her warily, a strange mix of anticipation and dread churning in his belly. She trailed her fingers up his leg, and then she used her teeth to open a vein in her wrist. He watched, fascinated, as she dripped her blood on his cock, until it was coated, slick with crimson. He hated himself for liking the caress of the warm rivulets winding along his shaft.

  When she was finished, she straddled him, and his cock, lubricated with her blood, slid easily inside her. He nearly shouted as she sat down, taking him to the hilt. She was tight and he was horny and this was going to end humiliatingly soon.

  Out of nowhere, she struck him. Hard. In the face. He heard the crack of bone, tasted blood, as pain spiderwebbed across his cheek.

  “You—“

  Laughing, she struck him again. “That,” she said, in a low, sultry voice, “was so you will concentrate on the pain instead of the pleasure. I don’t want you spending yourself before I’m ready.”

  “I will kill you,” he swore. He would drive a stake through her cold heart, and he’d enjoy every second of it.

  Sorla shrugged one shoulder and began to move on him, seemingly unconcerned that he’d just threatened her life. Or maybe danger was an aphrodisiac for her, because her movements quickly intensified, becoming almost frenzied as her nails dug into his nipples until they welled with his blood, which she tongued and drank.

  Pleasure washed over him in a hot wave with each roll of her hips, with each flick of her tongue. The light from the fire made her eyes glow, or maybe that’s just what they did when a vampire was so deep in the rut, but they lit even more fiercely when she used one fang to slice open the pad of her finger. The strangest compulsion came over him; he wanted to take her finger in his mouth, to suckle, take her blood inside him as he came.

  Instead, she continued to ride him, and just as she began to peak, she swirled her bleeding finger in the bites on his chest. Their lifeblood mingled, and red flashes of light shot behind his eyes. He felt dizzy, cold but on fire, and then he came, pumping his semen into her in an endless, hot stream.

  She screamed as her own orgasm took her, and as her inner muscles contracted, they milked the last drops of his seed. His limbs felt weak, and he trembled uncontrollably. What had just happened?

  “My king,” she whispered, falling forward to nuzzle his neck. “You are my king now.”

  “I don’t understand—“ Sudden heat roared through his veins, taking his breath. In an instant, his strength returned. No…it grew. Swelled his muscles, his very bones. Bloody hell, he’d never felt so strong. It was as if he could lift the bed with one hand or punch through the stone walls with no effort at all.

  On impulse, he rolled Sorla onto her back and surged to his feet. She stared up at him, her body relaxed and sated, her gaze as alert as ever as she watched him to see what he’d do.

  That was the big question, wasn’t it? The power rolling through him had taken on a life of its own, but so had a new, strange lust. Sorla seemed to know, and as her legs fell open, his eyes locked on the dark juncture between them, where blood, semen, and her juices pooled and dripped into the crack of her ass.

  “Finish it,” she whispered. “Finish it, and you will be so much more.”

  A wild, wicked instinct clouded his mind, kicked him in his chest, and he dove between her thighs. A pumping, primal growl erupted from his throat as he lapped at her. He should be disgusted, and on some level he was, but something shadowy and dark had taken over, and all he knew was that he had to do this…or die.

  Sweet, salty, and bitter, the thick mixture filled him with a strange inner glow, a drug-like energy. Sorla moaned, writhing against him until she came.

  Licking his lips, he stood, pulling her with him. “What happened? I feel . . . different.”

  She smiled, revealing her two gleaming fangs. “You are different. You are still alive, but you are not the same. I had intended to keep you as a slave, but I couldn’t resist. You are my mate. My king.”

  Uncertainty tugged at his brain, but then she took his half-hard cock in her hand and stroked with her sharp nails. She cupped his balls, and the shirkot dropped to the floor. He was free. He was a king. And he was hungry.

  Before the echo of the metal shirkot banging on the stone floor had faded away, Brynn grasped Sorla by the throat and slammed her against the wall. Surprise flashed in her eyes as he rammed his cock inside her.

  “What’s wrong,” he whispered into her ear. “Did you think I’d would remain a docile pet?”

  A smile trembled over her lips. “Of course not. I prefer you like this.” Her lie was obvious in her quaking voice.

  “Good,” he said. “Because you’ve awakened something, my queen. My lover. My feast.”

  His orgasm rippled upward, and he growled, snarled, and bit deeply into her throat. Blood spurted into his mouth and streamed down his chin and neck as she struggled, her jerky motions intensifying his orgasm. Yes, he was king.

  Blood dripped lower, coating his chest, her breasts. Would she survive this? He wondered. And then he smiled, because it didn’t matter.

  It was good to be king.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR
/>   New York Times best-selling author Larissa Ione grew up reading Stephen King, Jack London, and Dean Koontz. She began writing horror and fantasy, but during her enlistment in the U.S. Air Force, she learned to love romance.

  She now writes sexy, gritty paranormal romance for Grand Central Publishing and Kensington Books, steamy contemporary romance for Red Sage and Samhain, and erotic fantasy romance under the name Sydney Croft (with Stephanie Tyler), for Random House.

  She is also lucky enough to write full time, which is a blessing given her husband's very mobile military career. Though she considers the Pacific Northwest to be her home, she has lived all over the world and currently resides in Wisconsin. For more information about Larissa and her books, please visit her at: http://www.larissaione.com

  OTHER TITLES AVAILABLE AT SMASHWORDS:

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3