The exercise was doing wonders for my mood—the stress coming out in the movement. I began to laugh, not caring if he heard me. For the first time in days, I felt free. If I were still alive, I’d say I was able to breathe.

And then, as I rounded the corner of a stand of cedar, there he was, waiting for me. Roman was leaning against a cedar, a smart-assed look on his face. I skidded to a halt as the mood shifted in a fraction of a second. My hunger grew strong, my thirst burning in my throat. As he began to walk me back against a tree as big around as a car, I locked eyes with him, watching him cautiously.

His icy gray gaze swept over me, and I felt naked. The next moment he lunged forward and had hold of my hands. I found myself back up against the tree, as he thrust my arms over my head and caught my mouth with lips soft as silk, sweet as blood and wine. His fangs began to descend and I moaned, wanting him. Wanting to dive deep under his skin, to taste the blood rise to the surface, bubble into my mouth with its foaming crimson warmth.

Blood. It was the only part about him—the only part of me—that retained any heat. Blood, the life force. Blood, the passion and the pain. Blood, the crimson flowers that stained the snow, that stained alabaster skin, that stained sheets and clothes and bodies. Blood, the drink of the damned—and I wanted it, wanted Roman’s blood so badly I screamed.

“Feed me. Drink me. Taste me. Fuck me.”

He laughed, low and sultry, and his arms enveloped me, holding me tight. “Can you moan for me, pretty one? Can you beg for me? Because I would beg for you—I’d beg for a taste of your blood, to fuck your cunt, to fill you up and drive you deep into the night.”

I shifted, exposing my neck, and Roman leaned his head back, fangs gleaming in the shock of lightning that flashed overhead. He reared back, then with a low moan of desire, of lust, he plunged deep into my skin. I felt the blood begin to flow, and the ache of his bite, the pain of his fangs, drove themselves deep into my heart.

“Hurt me, make me bleed, make me feel.” I begged him, pleading for the pain. Pleading for the sensations that reminded me I was still here, still existing.

He made it hurt for me, made it ache, driving me under with a wash of bloody tears and searing pain. And in the pain, I began to weep. Weeping for my father, for my sisters, for the thousands who had died in Elqaneve. I wept for the victims who had been caught in the fire at my bar. I wept for Nerissa, who was stuck with loving me—who deserved so much better.

As the tears stained my face, Roman began to murmur something, and the next thing I knew, we were standing in the middle of a brilliant shower of blood, in a waterfall of energy—red and gold and burning orange, and all around was the scent of copper, the copper of blood, the cloying wash that gave the creatures of the earth their substance. Blood was life. Blood was power.

And there, under the Crimson Veil, under the watchful eyes of the great Mother of Vampires, Roman took me to the ground. He ripped at my shirt, and tossed it to the side. I unzipped my jeans, pushing them down as he removed his smoking jacket. Then, unzipping his leather pants, he pushed them down and moved between my legs.

I looked up at him, the hunger gnawing deep. “Take me. Make me feel alive. I need to feel alive.”

With a rough laugh, he flipped me over. “I will make you feel alive in every way I can. As long as that’s what you want.”

“Do it. Do whatever you want to me.”

Roman let out a low grunt as he stuck two fingers up my cunt, and my body responded. I groaned as he pulled them out and lubricated my ass with them. Instinct took over and I tightened my butt cheeks, but he wouldn’t stop. He parted them—surprisingly gentle in his movements—and then, inserted one finger up my ass. I shifted, moaning as the surprising notes of pleasure swept through me.

“You like that?”

I nodded. “More?”

“As you wish, my consort.” And then, he pushed his cock against my ass, slowly driving forward, easing himself inside, fraction by fraction of an inch, until he let out a satisfied grunt. “Head’s in. Now, love, are you ready? I’m going to fill you up, take it to the hilt. Beg me.”

Responding to the passion behind his words, to the absolute feeling of being desired and wanted, I obeyed. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

And so he drove in, and again the mix of pain and pleasure sent me reeling. I squirmed as he slowly thrust in to the hilt, till I could feel his balls pressing against my butt. And then, he reached down between my legs and began to finger my clit. As I fell into the rhythm, and began to soar—rising higher, letting out little cries—he abruptly stopped and pulled out.

He reached down and grabbed me by the ankles, flipping me over on my back. With a quick wipe of his cock, he lunged between my legs, plunging deep into my cunt.

As he shifted, penetrating deeper with each thrust, his eyes never leaving my face, all that existed was his cock inside me, the sensation of being full, of not having to be the one in charge. Of not having to worry about hurting him.

I fell into his stare as around us the veil of blood continued to flow. The energy of the Veil began to absorb us into it, and I realized that I was fucking the essence of the blood, fucking the soul of every vampire that had ever walked the world. Their passion, hunger, drive roiled around me in vast clouds of thirst and joy and hunger and pain.

Finally, when I could stand it no longer, I let go of my pain, of my fear, and gave it up. And as I did so, I came, losing myself in an orgasm that spiraled me into the fire. Into the blood. Back into the core of myself.

Chapter 17

When I came to, Roman and I were snuggled up at the base of the tree. Exhausted, I closed my eyes as he wrapped his arm around me. I was shirtless, but my jeans were buttoned and the softness of his jacket against my skin felt welcoming. He kissed the top of my head.

“Better now?”

I nodded. “I needed that.” Pausing, I took stock. I felt refreshed. Tired but like a whole fuckton of stress had gone bye-bye. The sex had been fantastic, but it was more than that. “I feel renewed.”

“That’s because of where we were.” He leaned forward, brushing a spider off his leg.

“Were we in… the Veil?” I’d been in the Crimson Veil only once, when his mother, Blood Wyne—Queen of the Vampire Nation—had sent me there. And within the Veil I’d learned more about my true nature, about the nature of vampires, than I had ever known even existed. The Crimson Veil was the core of the hunger—of the bloodlust. It was the source of vampirism, created by Mother Kesana, who had melded her soul with a demon to become the first vampire to walk the earth.

“Yes, I took you to the Veil. You were exhausted and weary. You’ve had some great shocks lately. The Veil is a place of renewal and regeneration. And you so dearly needed both.” He stood then, pulling me to my feet. “I have business to attend to before the rest of the night is spent. But Menolly… thank you. Thank you for letting me help you. And remember what I said about Nerissa. You need to give her more of yourself. You can’t just take on a title of wife and expect that wearing it will be enough. You have to live the part.”

And with that, he grabbed my hand and we raced through the forest at a blinding speed. He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, kissed me once more, and then vanished into the night.

As I headed up the stairs, I realized that for the first time in a long while, I felt rested and ready to face whatever might be coming. Inside, I glanced at the clock. It was going on four. Mourning my Jag, but feeling oddly content, for the rest of the night, I watched old movies, curled up in the living room.

The next evening—or rather late afternoon, considering how early the sun was setting—I woke up to a relatively calm house. Hanna was washing dishes, and it looked like dinner was over. Maggie was playing in her playpen, Delilah and Camille were poring over the documents Carter had given us about the Farantino Building. The guys were busy outside cleaning up after the storm. Though I hadn’t noticed it the night before while in the throes of wild hot monkey sex with Roman, the wind had been blowing up a gale, and now branches littered the yard.

As I picked up Maggie out of her playpen and snuggled her for a moment, Kitten gave me a resigned smile. But at least, it was a smile. Maggie yanked on my hair—which hurt like the devil—as I cuddled the little gargoyle.

“Camille, can you braid my hair? I’ve decided that, while it’s pretty down, I don’t want to keep it loose in case of a fight. Too much chance to have it used against me.” With how curly and tangled my hair was, much safer to leave it braided up. I tucked Maggie back in her playpen and crossed to the table.

“Sure.” She stood, arching her back. “Where are the beads?”

I handed her the box I’d picked up off my dresser. They contained a bunch of new beads that Nerissa had bought for me and I had pretty much ignored till now. “Here, why don’t you try some of these?”

They were pretty—greens and blues and gold. I’d been hesitant to change them because… well… now I wasn’t sure what my reasons were, but this seemed like the first step to letting my wife know how much she meant to me. She’d mentioned once or twice how I wouldn’t even consider some of her suggestions when it came to hair and clothes.

Camille smiled softly as she picked up the box. “I helped her pick these out, you know. She asked me what you might like.”

Now I did feel like a heel, but I chose to ride over it. “I have to buy a new car. I don’t want to buy a new one, but there’s no help for it. Mine’s trashed. So what say we go down to the dealer and see what we can find? Roman will front me the money, so no worries on that count.”

“We can get one hell of a good deal. We did before.” Camille snickered as she began brushing through my hair and parting it into sections. She used a mister to moisten the curls and smooth them down as she braided them.

“What kind of car are you thinking of getting?” Delilah pushed aside the files she’d been looking at. “Another Jag?”

I frowned. “No… too many associations now with being almost pulverized twice. I’m thinking I might get a Mustang. I thought about it before the Jaguar and now… well…”

“Why don’t we build it online and then order it?” Delilah brought up the website, and within seconds, we were building my new car. I wanted the royal blue color—or that’s what I called it—and as we added up the options, I grimaced at the price tag. But Roman had said to get what I wanted and I could take as long as I wanted to pay him back. Of course, he’d also said I didn’t have to pay him back but that wasn’t going to happen.

Delilah hit the final update button and then a search. “Looks like you can have it in three days at the Belles-Faire dealership. Forty-one thousand and some change.”

I grimaced but texted Roman. Within minutes I had a return text to forward the information and the check would be delivered to the dealership, so that I could pick up the car without worries when it came in. And that was that. No muss. No fuss. No hours spent listening to the dealer trying to sell me something I didn’t want.

“Is Nerissa home yet?” I wanted to talk to her. Wanted to start mending the fences before they fully broke.

“Not yet, but she should be soon. Now hold still while I finish your hair.” She made quick work of the rest—by now she’d had plenty of practice—and I had shiny new beads in my cornrows.

I suddenly wondered why I’d been so hesitant to change them before. The new beads were pretty, and they didn’t do anything but spruce up my hair. Why had I been so resistant? Pondering the question, I barely noticed when Camille’s phone rang and she answered. But the next moment, I sure as hell noticed her conversation.

“Holy fuck. Right! We’ll get right over there. Thanks, Carter.” As she punched the End Talk button, Delilah and I looked at her, waiting.

“You don’t want to know. But we have to go out tonight and we’d better get our butts in gear. Carter wants to see us now. And he said come prepared and with a full crew, which I’m translating to ‘be ready for a fight.’”

We scrambled. I scribbled off a note for Nerissa, while Delilah hurried outside to alert the men. Camille raced upstairs to change clothes. Within ten minutes, we were armed and ready to go. Because Aeval’s men were guarding the house, we decided that Roz and Trillian should stay behind, while Morio, Smoky, Shade, and Vanzir would go with us.

“Morio, Smoky, Menolly—you come with me. Shade and Vanzir, ride with Delilah.” Camille barked out orders as we crowded out of the doorway. As we split off to the two cars, a streak of lightning split the sky and rain thundered down. It was definitely the night for a fight, all right.

Carter was waiting for us. He hurried us in, out of the rain. Tea was waiting, and cookies—you could always count on Carter to provide refreshments and hospitality, even if the situation was dire. And by the look on his face, the shit was about to hit the fan.

We filed into his living room and gathered around the coffee table, where he had what looked like some architectural plans scattered around. He took his seat, and without chitchat or even his usual niceties, he dove right in.

“I think Lowestar will try to wake Suvika tonight.”

Crap. None of us had expected to hear that. We stared at him, silence thick as pea soup.

“What the hell did you do to spur him on like this? It had to be you—only a major disruption in his plans would force him to move this fast. He’s slow and steady; otherwise he wouldn’t have flown under the radar all these years.” Carter bit into one of his cookies and cocked his head, a quizzical look on his face.