He braced himself on one hand, splaying the other over my belly. His thumb slipped down, the pad covering my clit, stroking smooth circles with every thrust.

I pushed against him, both of us sweating and panting, our eyes locked where our bodies met. The sight of his massive cock driving in hit me like a meteor, the liquid thrill of climax ripping through me.

I fell back, unable to hold myself together as my muscles shook, my pussy clamping around him, stars shattering behind my eyes.

Bane snarled, giving another deep thrust, his thumb still driving against my clit. His cock pulsed, hot and heavy—with a ragged groan he pushed as far as he could, spilling himself inside me.

I felt the heat of it, the intensity. He gasped for breath, arched over me, eyes shining bright.

“A moment,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

It was several minutes before he softened, barbs retracting, before he could pull himself free. We collapsed together, sheened with sweat.

“I thought it would help to devour you first.” He spoke in nearly a whisper. “The wetness helped. I knew it couldn’t be… all of it.”

I sat up, and Bane reached for me, his fingertips trailing over my breast, circling a nipple and moving to my waist.

That was just the first time. A year and a day, yes? We have time to figure it out. 

“I can live without it, if it means keeping you whole.” He shook his head. “Nothing would be worse than…”

He trailed off.

Now I understood what he meant, his fear that he would tear me apart. He’d meant it quite literally: not with teeth or claws, but by driving too deep, too hard, forgetting my human body was incapable of taking it.

Maybe you can, but I want all of you. I tapped his nose, and he looked at me like an offended cat before breaking into a smile. Fortunately, we’re both driven people and I think we can find a creative alternative or two. Don’t be gloomy. I loved every second.

He chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t felt this good in years. I’ve been wanting to fill you with my seed from the moment I laid eyes on you.” He traced his fingers across my lower belly. “Now that the idea’s in my head, I want to see your belly all round with my babies.”

A soft pulse of desire wound through me. The blood sigil inscribed over my womb only prevented pregnancy, not the desire to get pregnant.

There’s a sigil on me, I told him, briefly pressing my hand to the spot. Until the time is right. But I really, really want to try more.

His mouth split into a lazy grin. “Just say the word, my lady. You know I can’t resist.”

First of all, though, where did you learn to do that with your tongue? I eyed his mouth with avid curiosity. I never would have guessed a forked tongue would be so… intriguing and agile. Did you have to practice?

An odd expression crossed his face; it took me a moment to understand he was bashful.

“I haven’t so much as kissed a woman since I became a fiend, until I met you. I’ve just had a lot of time on my hands to imagine what I wanted to do.” He gave me that warm, loving look, tempered with embarrassment.

Don’t be shy. I was no master of seductive smiles, but I stroked his chest, tracing the crests of his horned clavicles. I’m open to all sorts of imaginings. 

“It’s possible for someone to be too perfect.” He squinted at me.

What are you suggesting?

“That I was stabbed to death the second I walked into the Silver Cathedral and saw you. This is the afterlife. You’re one of your Lady’s angels.”

Oh dear. You’ve figured it out. But would an angel do this?

I kissed his chest, laving him with teeth and tongue, working my way down over his muscled abdomen. By the time my teeth grazed over the thick cut of muscle to his cock, he was already hard again, the barbs rising from his cockhead.

“If this is my afterlife, then yes. I don’t want any timid, virginal angels in my paradise.” Bane lifted my haunches with ease, planting me on his chest. He scooted my hips backwards, his tongue lashing at my sensitized clit. “I want a particular book-loving human who won’t take no for an answer.”

He couldn’t see me sign; I was already kissing my way up his length. We would both be wrung out by the time the sun rose, finding our release in other ways until we figured it out.

A year and a day. There was nothing to it, as long as I could keep him.

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Chapter 32 Bane

It was difficult to hide my own happiness in the face of Wroth’s misery. Nearly impossible to prevent my mouth from stretching into a wide grin, from laughing at nothing for no reason.

But I managed, because I would not rub my good fortune in my brother’s face as I sent him away.

Cirri stood at my side, cloaked against the chill. The pearly morning had brought a dusting of snow overnight, the first sign of the winter to come.

We watched as Auré, dressed in riding leathers, brought her horse cantering through the stableyard. The vampire reached down to clasp my hand in a hearty shake, and then, after a moment’s trepidation, bowed over her saddle to Cirri.

A flurry of hand signs flashed between them, too quickly for me to easily read, but, unlike the first night they’d spoken, there was a restrained watchfulness to their tone now. Less aggression, more wariness and grudging acceptance.

I tried not to be too pleased about that, either. I had done as Cirri asked and stayed well out of their mutual dislike. If she could win over my old family on her own, all the better; I hoped they would become friends in time.

But not today. Cirri raised her chin, and Auré narrowed her eyes, and the two of them parted with icy courtesy.

But it was courtesy.

“It’s a start,” I said, resting my arm around Cirri’s shoulders as Auré rode through the outer gates to scout ahead.

My bride raised a brow at me. If I’m going to live forever, we’re going to have to find some small island of common ground. 

“I was hoping for more of a continent,” I mused, watching as Kajarin emerged from the keep, surrounded by servants loaded with trunks and boxes.

The breeze carried her scent to my nose: the jasmine perfume, mingled with men’s sweat and seed. A spurt of sickness rose in my throat, that Wroth would have to breathe that all the way south to the Rivers.

Or he would leave her for the wargs. If that were the case, I wouldn’t blame him.

My brother was the last of the retinue, the other vampires well ahead with Auré. I would never have allowed Cirri to travel by carriage alone, without vampires guarding her. It said much of their feelings that they silently went ahead without the Lady of the Rivers.

But the fiend said nothing, his nostrils not so much as twitching as he strode by the carriage and his wife. His pale eyes flicked between me and Cirri, tufted tail thrashing.

I stretched out a hand. “I was glad to see you, brother.”

So many things were left unspoken. I’d already said my piece.

And Wroth understood that perfectly well. He nodded slowly, the tips of his fangs showing, and clasped my hand. “For your sake, I will invite my misery on Andrus next year. Far be it from me to bring storms upon your sunlight.”

“No.” I pulled him in for a rough embrace, squeezing his hand. “Bring yourself whenever you wish. You’re still my brother.”

Wroth exhaled, a low rumble deep in his throat as I released him. “Always,” he said, low and gruff. “Perhaps I needed… blunt advice. But it will take time.”

“We have all the time in the world.”

I half expected him to ignore my wife, but when he looked back at her, Cirri said, Things are what we make of them. We’re here for you.