Page 49 of Fangbanger

When I’m done, her face is tight and her chest moves in shallow pants, her nostrils flaring. There’s fear in her gaze, and it echoes behind ribs, where the bond sits. I suspect it’s fear for what she might do and fear for what she might feel. That maybe she needs these chains as a way to protect herself.

My chest pulls tight.

She trusts me. The slayer trusts me to bind her and bite her and not hurt her. It’s a gift I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve, but in my heart, I am an opportunist. A strategist. When I see a prize I want, I go for it.

My body is primed for hers. I set my lips to her ear, intending just to kiss her, but she arches and moans under me. Something snaps in my chest. The bond lashes me.

“My pretty little mate,” I growl. “You were made for me.” The words are torn from my throat. The shreds of my restraint flutter in the wind.

I bite her.

31

LEAH

It’s not supposed to feel like this. It’s a storm. An ocean. Darker and deeper than the last time he bit me. I can feel the bond throbbing between us, trying to force my mouth to his pulse. I can sense where his skin is thinnest and where he’d most like to be bitten.

There? Really?

My thoughts swirl and scatter at the soft heat of his mouth, at each swipe of his tongue and the greedy suction he creates.

I can feel him everywhere, like sparks under my skin. My instincts shout that I am prey, and adrenaline trickles coolly through my blood. I jerk against the chains, my whimpers muffled against the duct tape. You are trapped. Stake him. I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t—Marcus growls, and his own pleasure flares through the bond. I welcome it. I open gratefully to his need. There’s an edge to the sounds he makes, one that’s never been present before. He sucks—hard—sending heat streaking down my body to pulse between my legs, and I crack in half.

I’m coming. I throb and clench on air. The stretching sensation behind my belly button snaps in a rush. My body twists and arches, and he makes a contented noise in his throat, like all he wants is this. The bond floods through me, showing me his pleasure and echoing it back.

“How you please me,” he says raggedly before he bites me again and the orgasm twists hotter and brighter through my stomach. I can feel how much I please him, how much he likes this. How he hungers for me.

The bond shows me how dense and hot that hunger is. How trained on me. I gasp under his mouth and pull at the chains. He is all control, except for me.

He wants nothing more than this. I can feel how much in the bond, in the tautness of his frame over mine, at how he holds himself apart from me. In how he gives me pleasure but takes none for himself.

Pressure is building in my stomach again. The bond feels like the time I touched Karina’s magic. Like wildfire or sparks, and I feel like I might burn.

I moan against the tape. It comes out muffled and ragged. He’s still feeding, still hard, still tense. I don’t want to be alone in this. I feel like I might disappear into pleasure.

He makes a hoarse sound.

I fumble for the bond, tugging on it.

That does it. His fangs slide out of my neck. The storm abates briefly, but I still feel hot and restless. Marcus levers up on one elbow. His mouth is red. He is monstrous and beautiful and larger than before. The muscles of his shoulders stand out in stark relief. I hate that my hands are bound. I want to touch him. I want to rake my hands through his hair and cup his cheeks.

“What do you need?” He licks his lips.

I arch under him, sending images down the bond of him sinking into me, of unimaginable pleasure.

“Are you⁠—”

I whimper against the tape and jerk at the chains. My body still contains all the unconsummated pleasure of the feeding, of the bond that demands to be sealed.

“Okay. Shit. Okay.” He sits up and fumbles with the waistband of his shorts until he snarls and rips the fabric.

I suck in air. He’s big and fully hard against his stomach.

“Little mate.” His gaze is terrible and wonderful at once, promising and threatening. “I don’t fuck like a human.”

My stomach tugs.

I reach for the shining mental bond. I don’t want you to be human.