Page 62 of Vampire Soldier

I keep going. I give her everything. And she takes it—eager, unrestrained, glorious.

My name leaves her lips like a prayer. I make her scream it again.

“You’re mine, Blake,” I snarl as my balls tighten. “Mine.” The words tear from my throat, primal and absolute. Every thrust is a brand. Her nails dig into my shoulders—drawing blood, marking me—and I welcome the sting, greedy for it. I want to wear her marks even as I mark her.

I shatter inside her with a shout that rips free and echoes off the ceiling, guttural and raw, hips jerking as I spill into her.

I collapse into the crook of her neck, still inside her, muscles shaking from the force of what we’ve done—what we are. My cock pulses with her aftershocks, and her body curls beneath mine, a slow, contented stretch ending with a soft moan against my ear. She’s boneless, ruined, perfect.

And mine.

ChapterTwenty-Four

BLAKE

The first thing I notice when I wake is the rich scent of coffee. Not just any coffee—the dark roast from Black Death Beanery that I’ve become addicted to over the years. My eyes flutter open to find myself alone in Malachi’s massive bed, tangled in sheets that still smell like him and sex and something deeper that makes my whole body flush with remembered pleasure.

Every muscle in my body aches in the best possible way. Even the marks from his fangs—tender spots along my thighs and neck that throb with each heartbeat—feel more like badges of pleasure than wounds. I stretch, cataloging each delicious twinge, and marvel at how different everything feels in the soft morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I should be exhausted. After the first time, I dozed off before Malachi woke me up two more times. I was convinced more orgasms were impossible, and each time, he proved he had the patience and skill to coax them from my body.

A notification buzzes my phone on the nightstand. Malachi must have put it there at some point. I grab it, thinking it might be Charlie, but when I see my twin’s name I ignore it. Whatever drama he’s stirring up can wait. For the first time in forever, I’m not immediately hit with the weight of responsibility or worry about getting Charlie to school or making rent or dealing with Sam’s latest crisis. Instead, I feel peaceful. Content. Maybe even happy, though that word feels dangerous to even think. All I want to think about is how tempting the smell of coffee is and how thinking about last night makes my skin tingle.

I slide from the bed, borrowing one of Malachi’s button-downs from his closet rather than grabbing something of mine from the guest room across the hall. The shirt falls to mid-thigh, the sleeves so long I have to roll them up several times. His scent wraps around me like an embrace.

I pad barefoot downstairs, following the smell of coffee and the low sound of movement from the kitchen. The sight that greets me nearly stops my heart: Malachi, shirtless in dark sleep pants that ride low on his hips, moving around his kitchen with ease that belies the lack of homeyness the rest of the penthouse has.

He turns as I enter, those golden eyes warming as they track over my body in his shirt. A small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” I manage, suddenly shy despite everything we did last night. Everything feels different in daylight—the morning light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows casts Malachi in a softened glow, highlighting the lean muscle of his chest and arms. I try not to stare at the tattoos spanning his torso, but it’s impossible not to remember how they felt under my fingers, under my lips.

“Coffee?” he asks, already reaching for a mug. The domesticity of the moment hits me like a physical force. This dangerous, powerful vampire padding around his kitchen making me coffee, looking at me like I belong here.

“Please.” My voice comes out breathier than I mean it to. “I can’t believe you have Darcy’s roast here.”

He hands me the mug with a lopsided grin—the same travel mug Charlie gave me, I realize with a start. He must have grabbed it from our house before bringing us here. The thoughtfulness of that small gesture makes my chest tight. “They have the best coffee on either side of the river. If I have to spend any time here at all, I don’t want to have to spend eight dollars on something that tastes burnt.”

I glance around the penthouse again, curious about how empty it feels despite its high-end finishes. “You don’t really live here, do you?”

Malachi’s expression shifts—less teasing now. “No. I keep the penthouse for optics. The Place’s owner should look like he lives Topside. Appearances matter to the kinds of people we want as customers.”

“But it’s not home.”

He shakes his head once. “Home’s the Clan house in the Barrows. That’s where I live. Hell, I think last night was the first time I actually slept in that bed.”

There’s something about that that twists under my ribs. That he brought me here—where he doesn’t stay, where nothing feels personal—makes a part of me ache. Like maybe last night meant less to him than it did to me. Like maybe I’m just another temporary piece in a space built for appearances.

“What time do you need to pick up Charlie?” He leans against the counter, sipping from his own mug while watching me with an intensity that makes those thoughts of doubt evaporate.

“Soon. She’s at Tonya’s.” I take a fortifying drink of perfectly prepared coffee. “I’ll order a ride soon.”

He sets his mug down and moves closer, backing me against the counter. His hands bracket my hips, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. “Why? I can drive you.” He dips his head, brushing his lips along my jaw. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t?”

I should say yes. I should keep this—whatever this is—separate from Charlie. But the words won’t come. Instead, I tilt my head, giving him better access to my neck. He makes a pleased sound low in his throat. I shiver as he brushes his lips over the spot he bit me.

“We can go to Blue Moon diner, after? I could go for some pancakes.”

It should be impossible for his words to send heat right between my legs, but at this point I’m becoming convinced I’d get turned on by Malachi reading the business section of Newgate Times out loud.

---