As retaliation, I lowered my head. Her hips moved beneath my strength, desperate to get away—though I caught the gleam of excitement in her eyes. She seemed to hold her breath as my lips nearly grazed over her budded clit.

Then I lowered my head to her inner thigh, sinking back in my chair, as I found the place I wanted to feed from her.

I sank my fangs deep, more roughly than I might have otherwise. Gemma didn’t seem to mind. She couldn’t stop the moan of relief that fell from her throat or the way she stopped struggling in my hold. Her hair was spread out among my remaining papers before cascading over the end of the desk, her hands roaming desperately to hold on to something.

At the first hit of her blood, the sensation was like sinking into a hot pool of water when I’d been freezing before. Sinfully right. Luscious. She tasted so fucking good, like in my dreams, the heat of her blood flowing thick over my tongue like a wine. My hips rocked in my chair, desperately needing friction as the tight pleasure spiraled in my groin, spearing straight through me.

I groaned, the sound muffled against her inner thigh. Her skin was hot there. Blazing hot. I drank deeply. Greedy. I felt her come, the orgasm making her thrash as she cried out, as her hands unconsciously flew to her breasts, tugging and pinching her nipples which only made me crazed.

I retracted my fangs, lowering my head to her other thigh. I’d drink from her here too.

“That’s my good little bite slut. Come for me,” I purred. She gasped, her back arching, eyes flying open in disbelief and pleasure when I trailed my fingers over her cunt. I chuckled, the sound humorless and dark, as I taunted, “You love this. You fucking love this. You’re so wet, wife. Wet and slick and needy and hot for me. You came looking for me because you needed your relief, didn’t you? You were craving my bite, my fangs because now you know I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.”

“And w-why is that?” she had the audacity to ask, still in the throes of her long orgasm. “Why is it only you?”

I shoved a finger into her cunt, forcing a chuffed groan from her plump lips, even as her hips bucked against me. She was hot. Like a furnace. And so slick that I slid another finger into her easily, stretching her. Feeling her inner walls clasp and pulse around my fingers, her greedy little cunt trying to draw me deeper.

I didn’t answer her. Instead, I thrust my fingers into her in a steady, pumping rhythm as I lowered my head to her opposite inner thigh. I bit. Hard. It made her whimper—her cunt tightening around my fingers, squeezing them—and I was pleased. I wanted her to feel me in the morning. Every brush of her thighs against one another, she’d feel me, that delicious ache that would probably keep her on edge all day long.

I drank and drank and drank. Gorging myself as if I’d been starved for her, which I had been. Already, my strength was returning. I thrust my fingers into her harder, curling them in a way I knew human females liked, and she keened as she came again, bucking and thrashing hard.

When I had my fill, when my seal at the base of my cock was throbbing and I was a stroke away from coming, I finally let her thighs go. I retracted my fangs and stood up from my chair, shoving my pants down, nearly ripping the material in my haste.

Gemma was lying back, thighs still spread wide, though they were limply hanging over the edge of my desk. Her cheeks were flushed, her gaze half-lidded, her cunt dripping onto my purchase contracts.

I groaned at the mere sight of her. Her eyes went wide when she saw my cock for the first time, her legs automatically closing, as if she hadn’t realized how big I was and was trying to protect herself.

“No. Open them wide,” I rumbled down to her. Fuck, it was hard to think with this pressure building in my knot. “I’m going to come all over your needy cunt, and you better not wash it away until morning.”

Hesitantly, she opened her thighs back up, my bite marks gleaming on her pale flesh. There was an uncertain but curious gleam in her eyes, one that nearly made me pause. I’d never considered it before, but I wondered if my wife had ever been with a male.

And why did I feel jealousy rising for faceless human men if she had been with others?

I gripped my cock, running my fist up and down the thick length of my shaft with the taste of her blood on my tongue. I hissed out a breath, feeling her gaze on it. My seal spasmed, beginning to pulse. Heat was rising. Rising. Hurtling up the length of my cock.

When I came, I placed my palm on her thigh to steady myself, tossing my head back, grunting out my pleasure, my hips moving erratically. Imagining I was fucking her tight cunt, releasing my seed inside her, which I knew I couldn’t do. Not unless she was taking marroswood.

I groaned, tilting my head back down to watch the streams of my silver seed coat her cunt. One lash shot right over her swollen clit, making her bite her bottom lip and twitch, as more followed. Making a mess. Dripping down to my desk. Spreading over her smooth belly.

When I was finished, I felt better. Clarity returned. My clothes were already tight from my growing strength, and I thought there was no way I’d be able to fit my pants back over my hips. The gnawing, aching hunger was satisfied, and I blew out my first breath of relief in five fucking days.

Gemma was staring up at me, her chest still heaving, her nipples pebbled and tight.

My eyes caught on her wrist again and my ire returned, though I didn’t feel the intensity of the rage as I had before. I felt in control again. I could trigger a rage if I wanted to, but I no longer felt like I was spiraling.

“Who fed from you?” I asked for the final time, ignoring the fact that she was covered in my come as I leaned over her. My cock pressed to her bare belly, making her gasp, as I wound my hand around the front of her throat, keeping her still so she wouldn’t try to flee. “Don’t lie to me, wife.”

Chapter 24

Gemma

I was satisfied. I felt warm and sated, like a sleepy, smug cat. I nearly arched off the desk in contentment, not at all fearing the warning in my husband’s voice.

It was inconvenient, I decided, to be attracted to my husband. Unfortunately, I was. Terribly.

Every part of my body felt scorched by him. I didn’t know if I’d ever be the same.

He’d been blazing hot like a forge just now, I thought, nearly shivering just remembering his intensity.

I felt calm. As if the two orgasms had helped rewire the anxious part of my brain.

“I won’t lie,” I informed him. “I just won’t tell you.”

Azur stilled, looming above me. His hand flexed at my throat, but I was beginning to realize that my husband was all bark and no bite, as the Old Earth saying went.

Well, he has a lot of bite, I thought. A bite that I craved, needed, like food and water and air. Food and water and air and Azur’s fangs.

“Gemma,” he warned, his tone low, filling my senses with his glare and his heat and the scent of his skin. “Do not stoke my ire right now.”

Azur was stubborn. He wouldn’t let it go, I knew that already. But I’d promised Ludayn I wouldn’t tell, and I would keep my promise.

He would have to be satisfied with the answer I gave him. Though I had the gnawing sensation that he might’ve already known who it’d been. There were just a few Kylorr in the keep who I saw and spoke to every day. Even fewer who I trusted to ask for help.

“It’s not important who it was. I just wanted to know how it felt,” I told him, a little embarrassed to admit this to him. More embarrassed than lying spread out on his desk with his seed—which was silver—covering my lower half. “How it felt with someone else. If I would feel…”