Taken by a Vampire, Page 98

Page 98

 

  He’s as big as I’ve ever felt him, Alanna. He’s going to give you a rough ride.

  Oh, she hoped so. When Niall moved up her body, her hips were already arching up, wanting to take him. Niall impatiently tore off the kilt, Evan helping, and then he sheathed himself in her, slamming home hard enough to tear her, but she would heal.

  Want to mark her now.

  She heard it in Evan’s mind, as well as Evan’s response.

  Soon, neshama. But not now. There’s control you need to learn, to protect her mind, her soul. So you don’t delve too deeply.

  But she knew how to be an empty vessel so well. She’d survived Stephen’s assault on her soul. Surely she could handle the passionate demand and love of her new vampire Master. She feared nothing from these two particular Masters. They could never delve too deeply, because her soul was all theirs.

  Though she wouldn’t argue with Evan, she wanted it, too, wanted what Niall wanted. But her pleading eyes must have told him her desires, for Evan muttered a resigned curse.

  Go easy. There needs to be a significant pause between each mark. If you can’t exercise that control, now isn’t the time.

  Alanna arched her throat for the first bite, the geographical locator. Her body shuddered, clasping hard around Niall, overwhelmed by what, to a servant, was the most erotic act of all, the act by which a vampire bound her to him forever. It had been like that when Evan had given her the three marks, out in the gardens of the Savannah estate. Niall had held her against his body, the two of them taking her right afterward as Evan opened his mind and let all three sets of emotions intertwine. She knew it would be the same way now, even better, for now she truly would serve them both, in all ways.

  The locator mark swirled through her blood, bringing no pain. On the contrary; it was as if each mark either man gave her enriched her blood, energized it, making it the best source of nourishment for her Masters.

  In return, they offered her a flood of pleasure. Niall was thrusting, spending his time between marks in the most desirable way she could imagine. The tawny eyes had turned red of course, but she saw he was conscious of her amid the bloodlust, his attention on her aroused face, her every moan. Evan sat back on his heels, watching them, monitoring, but she could tell he was aroused, hungry, and she wanted him with them.

  “Niall,” she gasped it. “Turn. Let me . . . so Evan can be with us. Please. ”

  With a growl, he rolled to his back, bringing her on top as he continued to thrust hard into her. Evan gripped her hips, then pulled the skirt over her head, divesting her of the rest of her clothes. The other advantage to being a third mark—between that and the sexual heat the three of them were generating, the chill Scottish night had no claim on her flesh. Unlike her Masters.

  Evan shed his own clothes, then knelt behind her. He cupped her jaw, bringing her head back to meet his demanding kiss as Niall’s fangs found her throat again, tongue swirling over her flesh as he released the second mark. Paradise became the promise of Heaven.

  You’re ours, lass.

  Joy speared through her, hearing Niall speak directly in her mind for the first time. And he couldn’t have chosen more appropriate first words. She would cherish the memory of it as long as life was given to her.

  Ours forever.

  And of course, Evan would add to it, making it perfect, a closed circle. They not only gave her the words, they branded them on her heart and soul, like another kind of third mark.

  Yes. She swept her glance over them both, then laid her head on Evan’s shoulder, looking up at him. “Ani le odi ve dodi li . . . ”

  Evan’s eyes became unexpectedly moist as he translated for her, the words a Jewish bride might offer her groom. “I am my beloved’s . . . ”

  “And my beloved is mine,” she finished in English. She put the challenge in her voice, and both her males responded to it, with lust and pleasure flickering dangerously in their eyes. “But I like the other way of saying it, too. ‘I am for my beloved—for both of my beloveds’ . . . ”

  “Precious metuka,” Evan murmured, bringing his mouth down on hers once more. Niall’s hands closed over her hips, and he thrust upward, his cock impaling her deep, so she moaned against Evan’s mouth. He growled approvingly against her lips, his grip dropping to her breasts, kneading the curves and teasing the nipples, making her writhe against his hold in a way that only increased Niall’s strokes. When Evan released her mouth, she saw Niall’s eyes had gone fully red, but she could see her bear in his rapturous gaze. He was caught up in it, the savagery and euphoria both. She knew how he felt.

  Proving it, she gripped him hard with her internal muscles, rose and fell, asserting her own desires in a way she knew would provoke him further, particularly when she let her hands fall onto his chest and dug her nails into the dragon tattoo, his flesh.

  Evan took over then, a hand to the back of her neck to press her down onto Niall’s chest, adjusting her forward so he could slide a lubricated cock into her backside, both of them penetrating her as deep as they could reach, and their reach was considerable. She groaned with the effort of taking them both, and felt their male satisfaction crash over her. The hot wave of testosterone that rippled over her whole body was a precursor of the climax to come. But as intense as that was, nothing could match the next moment as Niall overlapped Evan’s hand on the back of her neck and bit her throat once more.

  It burned some, because he should have waited longer between marks, but she thought Evan’s perhaps meliorated that effect. It was no worse than the heat of a brand, leaving a searing pleasure behind, the emotional impact of being fully claimed by her second Master. Alanna gasped, rocking in their grip as the serum coursed through her blood, intertwining with Evan’s claim upon her, weaving a bond around her soul, holding her to them. She rejoiced in it.

  She was overwhelmed emotionally, but they were also driving her past her physical limits now, taking her higher and higher. That primal need took over everything. Like an animal who knew by instinct what she most needed, she smelled the blood coursing through Niall’s throat and didn’t hold back, biting down hard to break the skin and finding the warm flow of his blood waiting, to make the marking complete.

  Stephen’s third mark had almost been like a girl’s first sex—built up into so much in her mind, yet the actuality of it had been like getting off the roller coaster before the best part of the ride happened. A sense that there was much, much more, just beyond her grasp. Learning through Evan’s third mark that there was a thrilling drop and rushing ascent into a state of pure euphoria didn’t make her any less greedy for the same sensation with Niall.

  She’s an insatiable lass, Evan. ’Tis a guid thing there’ll be two of us to tend to her.

  Niall could follow her thoughts like Evan. The delight of it coursed through her as well. But as she swallowed the richness of his blood, she closed her eyes, felt the differences of the two males’ marks, the same intriguing contrasts she’d noted in so many other things about them. Niall, the solid earth . . . Evan, the wind swirling through the pines . . . Her, the element that connected them both.

  Evan pressed against her back, hands gripping her hips. Niall’s hand slid over her buttock, gripped Evan’s fingers. The Scot’s strength steadied them all as Evan thrust, Niall pushed deeper, and she tightened on both of them, each trying to give as much as they were taking.

  The climax rolled up like that roller coaster on a straight line to the sky. “Masters . . . ”she gasped, and they gave her permission in one voice.

  Come for us, Alanna.

  As she catapulted over that edge, she dug her fingers into Niall’s shoulders, pressed her body up into the curve of Evan’s, reveled in the way Evan locked his arm around her waist, hand cupping her breast, Niall with his hand tangled in her hair, his other hand holding onto Evan, his strength pushing Evan and himself farther into her.

  She screamed
, shoved into another intense orgasm, as Evan bit back into her shoulder. The flow of marks swirled through her blood like a sacred text. She reveled in the press of both fangs, their heated mouths on her flesh, the scent of blood given and taken. When both men climaxed inside her at last, she cried out her pleasure to the night, showing them her desire, her yearning, to give and give and give.

  A desire that would never end.

  It took them all a long while to come down. When at last they were sprawled together on the soft earth, she couldn’t imagine being more content. Evan sheltered her body, coiled around her back and hips, while she lay, exhausted, on Niall’s chest. When her fingers slipped over the dragon tattoo, she felt a little pang of sadness. It was smooth, only the tattoo there now, the chai mark gone.

  ’Tis in my heart, lass. It will always be there.

  “Will the tattoos go away?” she asked, clearing her throat. Evan’s third mark had helped heal her vocal cords, but she was still getting accustomed to that “sultry rasp,” as Niall called it.

  “Not if I mark them with his own blood. But that’s his decision,” Evan said against her hair.

  Niall reached over her, gripping Evan’s thigh before his fingers slipped back to her. “Aye. I want to keep them. You have a new mark of your own, lass. ”

  She raised her head to look down her body. In the shade of the tree of life, a new symbol had appeared. This one she knew, and the significance of it filled her, thickened her throat. She slipped her fingers over Niall’s where he was caressing it.

  “A triquetra. A Gaelic symbol for trinity,” Evan said quietly. “Very fitting. ”

  “Master . . . ” She smiled, glad she didn’t have to tell them which one she meant, though, since their minds were open to her at the moment, she saw the brief sorting as they figured out she was talking to Evan. He grunted in acknowledgment, giving her a light squeeze.

  “I was thinking about what you said, that night in the gazebo, about your art. ” She looked up at the stars, comfortably held between the two men. “About doing something because something in you says that’s how it must be done . . . a flow of pure energy. ”