Page 72 of Dearest Alpha Brothers 1: Vampire Prince

This had to be more than just normal desire. Normal desire didn’t make you feel like you might actually combust. Normal desire didn’t make your skin glow or your fangs ache or your whole body feel like it was trying to crawl out of itself.

I slid down to sit on the shower floor, letting the cold water drum against my back. Think about something else. Anything else. Work. Marketing campaigns. Blood bank logistics. Not the way Zane had growled when I’d bitten him. Not how Ryker’s lightning had danced across my skin. Not Archer’s wicked promises…

“Focus,” I whispered, but my body wasn’t listening. Every cell seemed attuned to their absence, craving their presence, their touch, their blood. The need was becoming painful now, an actual physical ache that radiated from my core.

I stayed under the cold spray until my skin pruned, but the fever wouldn’t break. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse. Even the air felt too heavy, too hot against my wet skin as I stumbled out of the shower.

The towel felt like sandpaper. I dropped it, unable to stand anything touching me. My reflection caught my eye—skin flushed and glowing with an odd luminescence, eyes too bright, almost fevered.

I collapsed onto my bed, not bothering with clothes. Even the silk sheets felt abrasive against my hypersensitive skin, but I was too weak to move. The room spun slightly, making me close my eyes. Their scents still lingered in my nose—midnight and starlight, lightning storms, citrus sunshine—making the ache inside worse.

My last coherent thought before the fever pulled me under was of their faces—Zane’s silver eyes dark with want, Ryker’s storm-blue gaze promising wicked things, Archer’s playful smirk turned hungry. Then everything faded into a haze of heat and need and desperate wanting…

Chapter 16

WHITLOCK BROTHERS

Zane Whitlock was not a wolf who paced. Three centuries of careful control had taught him better. And yet here he was, wearing a path in his office carpet while his wolf clawed at his chest, demanding he go upstairs and claim what was his.

Their little bat. Their Luca. Their?—

“If you’re going to brood, could you do it sitting down?” Archer was sprawled across Zane’s leather couch. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“I’m not brooding.”

“Right.” Ryker didn’t look up from where he was methodically destroying a crystal tumbler with his lightning. “And I’m not about to short-circuit half of New Vale’s power grid.”

The lights flickered ominously, as if to punctuate his point.

“Both of you, out.” Zane pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need to think.”

“About Luca?” Archer’s grin was sharp. “About how he tastes like moonlight and cherry blossoms? Or about how perfectly he fit against?—”

A growl ripped from Zane’s throat before he could stop it. His wolf surged forward, eyes bleeding silver as he advanced on his youngest brother. “Careful.”

“Or what?” Archer sat up, citrus-sunshine scent darkening with challenge. “You’ll forbid me from thinking about it? Good luck with that. I can still feel him in my lap, the way he gasped when I?—”

Lightning crackled between them as Ryker finally looked up. “Both of you, enough. This isn’t helping.”

“Nothing’s helping,” Archer flopped back down dramatically. “I’m going to die. Right here. On this very expensive leather couch. Cause of death: sexual frustration and overwhelming guilt.”

“You’re not going to die.” But Zane’s voice was rough. He could still taste Luca on his tongue—moonlight and spring nights and something addictively sweet. Still feel the boy pressed against him, soft and willing and perfect…

The crystal in Ryker’s hand finally shattered.

“That’s coming out of your trust fund,” Zane said automatically, though his heart wasn’t in the reprimand. Not when Luca’s scent still clung to his clothes, making his wolf pace and growl.

“Add it to my tab.” Ryker’s storm-blue eyes flickered with lightning. “Right under ‘therapy needed after tasting our brother against a car.’”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” Archer’s laugh held an edge of hysteria. “Because from where I was sitting—quite comfortably, with Luca in my lap during that drive home?—”

“Finish that sentence,” Zane growled, “and I’ll throw you off the balcony.”

“You’d have to catch me first,” Archer said. “And besides, we all felt what happened through the bond tonight. The car, the drive home, that wall scene… Very alpha of you, by the way.”

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees as Zane’s power leaked out. Frost crackled across his desk.

“Children,” Ryker drawled, though his own power sparked dangerously. “Perhaps we could focus on the actual problem? Like how our shy, sweet brother suddenly turned into…” He waved his hand vaguely.

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