Page 52 of Fangbanger

I hum with pleasure. Wings. I have wings. I’ll figure out what to do with my magic another day. For now, I want to savor this.

The warm pool extends in front of us into the mist. “Where are we?” I yawn and let my head drop back against him. Marcus runs a possessive palm up my chest, then circles my nipple, then skims my neck.

There’s an ache behind my ribs from how gentle he is. He’s checking me for injuries. Even now, he’s so careful with me.

“The baths beneath my house.”

I sit up. He makes a sharp sound. “Leah.”

“We’re at your house?” Of course he has a replica of Roman baths under his house. I nearly laugh, but I’m too busy scanning the lamplit room. The light is warm and flickering and the steam is scented like herbs and magic. The rough hewn walls extend deep into the steam-filled darkness.

No wonder my aches are disappearing. He has magic baths beneath his house.

“Is this where you bathe?”

He chuckles. “This is where I heal.”

My chest pinches at the thought of him being injured enough that he needs a healing bath frequently. “Are you hurt very much?”

He hums and reaches for something before he glides a slick bar of soap over my collarbones.

“Fairly frequently,” he admits.

He makes another soft sound of pleasure as he soaps my stomach. “So pretty, little mate.” His teeth worry my shoulder again. Happiness zips through my chest, bright and hot.

“Why are you hurt so much?”

He sighs. “Once I got strong enough, I began hunting the vampires and creatures who attended the fights. Anyone who tortured us. Anyone who denied me food. Anyone who bet against me or cheered for my death.” His voice is dangerously edged. His palm flattens against my stomach. “I killed them all, starting with my sire.”

I shiver, and he relaxes under me by a fraction.

“And your brother is the last? Are you sure you want to kill him? It seemed like you had unfinished business during the fight.”

“Not the last,” he says tightly. “But he is my strongest opponent. He seeks to kill you. He already needed to die, but that seals his fate.”

I make a sound of protest, and Marcus growls in my ear. “Settle, Leah. You’re hurt. We can discuss my brother another time.” He urges me back against his chest, settles me firmly on his cock. I make a sound of protest, but his teeth land on my neck in warning.

“I’m not hurt.” But I let him scoop me even closer, as he arranges my knees and my arms and cradles my head in the crook of his shoulder, in some jigsaw that only he seems to know the answer to.

I let him wash my hair, and he makes pleased sounds as he sifts his fingers through the long strands. He soaps my belly and my nipples, and his dick twitches every time I gasp.

Still, he doesn’t take it further, even as I vibrate with tension.

“Marcus,” I whisper, arching.

He growls and grips my hip. “You will rest or I will make you.”

“I’ll show you rest.” I punctuate the words with a yawn, and he chuckles.

I’m drifting in the herb-scented haze. Marcus is a warm cocoon of muscle. I hum happily. “I’ve never done this,” I tell him. His hand stills from where it strokes my thigh.

“Never done what?”

“Fallen asleep naked on a man.” I yawn.

“Not a man,” he says gently.

My lids are heavy and I turn my face against his chest. His arm tightens around my waist. “So much better than a man.”