Each thrust hit her clit, slapped their flesh together, sending her close to the peak. So she wrapped her legs around his ass and started pumping her hips. His eyes shuttered closed as a harsh sigh left him. He couldn’t thrust hard like this as she pumped, working her sex over his cock. She held him deep inside, right where she needed him, bumping him over a part of her that made her breath catch and her blood boil.

“Dmetri,” she whispered.

His arms wrapped around the top of her head, caging her in as he rolled his hips back against hers.

She let out a short scream as the pleasure mounted. Her arms reached down and latched onto his ass, her thighs locking around his hips as they pumped against each other, rocking and thrusting.

His breaths came in hot, hard pants against her neck as he buried his face there. Hands curled into fists in her hair; and then she started coming.

The pleasure was instantaneous—incredible. Her hips met his and shook with the power of her orgasm.

“Oh!” She shouted again and again as she clung furiously to his back. Waves and crashes pulsating and pounding inside her muscles and blood.

“Christine.” He groaned like a dying man. And then he bit her neck and hammered into her.

The bite took her fading orgasm and ramped it back up, fresh and new. She couldn’t keep quiet, couldn’t stop her body from trembling so hard against his, couldn’t stop from digging her nails into his back as she held on for dear life. But he liked it.

He moved even faster, flesh pounding against flesh. With one last push, he held himself deep, his hips jerking against hers as he shot hot seed inside her.

Christine gasped, holding onto him like she didn’t want to let go. Slowly, he pulled away from her neck, licking at the bite marks he’d just made. He pulled back to kiss her. It was slow and lazy with passion. Their tongues met gently before parting ways.

He pulled back to look down at her. “You’re mine.”

She shook her head in denial.

“Say it. You’re mine.”

A small smile played at her lips. “Okay, you’re mine.” His eyebrow arched. “I suppose so but that’s not what I meant and you know it.” His eyes grew dark as a midnight sky. “Say it,” he commanded.

Christine looked away, her heart beating frantically against her ribs. She wanted to say it, she realized. She wanted to say it and mean it.

“I can’t.”

He frowned at her, his jaw working side to side.

“You will,” he promised, then kissed her once more.

The three vampires stopped to rest. One started to build a fire; the biggest of the bunch went to take a piss in a small stream. The last one stayed with the girl.

She’d been beaten; her eyes were black and blue, swollen completely shut. Her clothes hung in tatters around her...that which she still wore. They’d taken off her shirt and shorts, leaving her only in her underwear. Her battered chest was red and bruised down along her ribs and stomach; her breasts looked scratched and swollen.

Brayden saw red. Slamming his eyes shut, he took deep breaths to steady himself. But when he opened them again his eyes still went back to her. Her arms were tied behind her back leaving her no chance to try to cover up her nudity. Thick rope bound her with a longer piece clenched in the vampire’s hand as a leash.

The vampire said something and hauled her to a stand. Whether it was because she couldn’t see or because of injuries he didn’t know, but she stumbled, legs shaking as she stood.

The impatient vampire pulled hard on the rope, but she didn’t cry out no matter how hard her arms were pulled.

He pulled his eyes away from her with effort. The man at the stream was just finishing.

Brayden made his move. With cold deadly accuracy, he raced silently through the forest and grabbed the vampire’s head in his hands. He never saw him coming, never heard it until he felt the pressure at his head and the crack of his neck snapping. As the man fell to his knees, Brayden stabbed his dagger into his heart and moved on to the vampire at the fire.

He wished he had time to kill these men properly. To shove their faces in the fire and hear their screams of agony, but he didn’t have that kind of time. So he twisted, cracking the vampire’s neck.

The vamp holding Vanessa snapped his gaze to him. Brayden never gave him a moment to react, to plan—he exploded at him.

At the last second, the man tried to shove her in front of him, but Brayden clothes-lined the man, catching him at the throat and choking him. The force of the hit slammed him down to the ground and Brayden followed.

His fist pounded into the vampire’s face. After the second blow, he stopped struggling.

He didn’t know if he was dead or passed out because the thought never entered his mind. He only had one focus—he touched her, he had to die.

A soft sound floated by his ear...crying. That simple sound cut through the violence in him better than any knife ever could. He sat up, breathing in hard long pulls, and looked behind him.

Vanessa sat on the ground, rocking, her hands covering her face. Christ, she didn’t even know what was going on because she couldn’t see.

Brayden cut a lethal look back at the vampire under him and noted with deep satisfaction that his face was unrecognizable now. He took his blade out and jabbed it into his heart—the killing blow. He didn’t feel a single regret. In fact, he lifted the vamp’s shirt and cleaned his bloodied fist and blade on it.

Coming to a stand, he walked slowly towards Vanessa. She stiffened as she heard him and stopped rocking. Her fingers curled into the grass behind her, her tense body said she was ready to run.

“Vanessa, it’s Brayden.”

She froze for a moment then started scuttling towards him. She was about to bump into the dead vamp, so Brayden quickly knelt in front of him. Tears rolled in fat droplets down her face; her arms shook in their binding.

“It’s okay now.” God, what did he say to her? He knew how to kill, how to rescue even, but this part...was not something he was acquainted with. The aftermath.

He didn’t stop her when she crawled into his lap and sagged against him. His eyes landed on the two dead bodies, one at the stream, one at the fire he still needed to stab, and wanted to kill them again. Only this time slowly, taking his time to enjoy it.

He didn’t want to touch her but some part of him must have because he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her.

“Are they dead?”

“Very much so.” A strange feeling came over him...embarrassment. This was not a conversation he thought he’d ever have with this girl. She pulled back but still hadn’t stopped shaking as she tried to look around.

“Don’t try to open your eyes. I’ll take care of...” he’d been about to say you but that sounded too personal. “Everything,” he said instead.

“Where are my uncles?” She sounded like a little girl who desperately wanted her family right now. Again, it made him realize just how young she was, a teenager. Lykaens aged differently than humans. They aged slowly and could live incredibly long lives. But even then, compared to his dirt-old age, she was practically a newborn.

“I’m an excellent tracker if the scent is fresh so I came. They sent teams after you right away. I got here first.”

“They got Vince right?”

Worry pulled her face into a frown that had to hurt. “Yes.” She shook her head and started to move, then collapsed against him. “I can’t stand.” She mumbled as if admitting so made her weak. After what she’d just been through the last thing he saw was weakness.

He pulled his knife out of his shoulder holster and cut the thick rope around her wrists.