Vin watched his father disappear into the darkness, returning to the struggling mated pair in the adjacent room. Vin lingered for a long time, strolling absently through her lab, touching her equipment, feeling her essence surround him. He could see her hunched over the lab table, dark red brows drawn together in concentration, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. For so long he’d fallen asleep to the ongoing fantasy of the woman she’d grown into, and his imagination hadn’t even come close to the real woman. He couldn’t risk losing her now that she was here with him. Yet if his silence caused Raife’s and Katya’s deaths, his losing her would become more than a mere risk—it would be a certainty. He had to tell her.
Vin touched the rough cover of a lab book, and he frowned into the dark. What if he could offer her something she loved in return? If he could give her Meghann, would she forgive him for his contribution to her nightmares? He could try. If anyone knew about Brit’s long-lost sister, it would be his handler. Tomorrow Vin would attempt to contact him.
Until then… Vin inhaled sharply as strong, fiery arousal slammed into his mind. A tremor worked through his body. When his cock hardened to the point of pain, he bent over, gripping the edge of the lab table. He could feel the sun on his skin in the dark of the lab and the wet silk of her lips around his arousal. Fuck. She was dreaming. Again.
Her desire was stronger this time, the images more vivid than before. He didn’t think he’d be able to block them even if he wanted to. The ghostly sensation of her mouth on his cock faded away to be replaced by the clench of her tight fist. He hissed in a breath, casting a glance at the halo of light surrounding the door to be sure he hadn’t alerted his father.
“Fuck, Vin.”
Tag’s voice was a whimper in his mind. He could guess where Brit’s mouth had disappeared to.
“Fuck. Fuck. I can’t take this much longer.”
The wet suction of her mouth returned, and Vin doubled over again, his balls drawing up with the threat of an orgasm.
“Neither can I.”
A thought broke through the haze of pleasure clouding his mind. If they were already mated, would she knowingly cause their deaths by leaving them? He didn’t think so. As long as she was linked to them, he had hope of regaining her trust, of easing her anger, especially once she carried their child.
It was a desperate move, but he was desperate enough to attempt it.
“Meet me in your suite.”
Chapter Sixteen
Brit dreamed she was lying in the sun, the warm rays heating her skin. Tag and Vin knelt on either side of her, big hands smoothing up her body. Their touch drew heat up the curve of her waist and over her ribs, sliding across the insides of her arms. She felt decadent—her body alive—and she arched luxuriously, stretching her arms out over her head. They lowered their dark heads, lapped at the curves of her breasts before sucking on her nipples.
Lightning arced from her breasts to her belly, and Brit cried out; the sleepy fog she was floating in began to clear. Electricity crackled from one breast to the other and down her belly to her pussy, where the heat tingled and surged hotter.
“She’s so damn wet.”
“And fucking waking up.”
Brit frowned as the growled words intruded into her dream, sending it skittering into the shadows of her mind. Suddenly she was very aware of the sharp tugging of real teeth on her nipples, not the hazy pleasure dulled by sleep. A moan slipped past her lips, and she reflexively arched her hips, reaching up to cup their heads, wanting more of the sensation.
They both drew away, the cool air of the room wafting over the wet tips of her breasts, drawing them tighter. Tag lifted her up off the couch, laid back, and pulled her over him so her knees straddled his hips. Brit reached over his head to brace herself against the arm of the couch. Her breasts hung heavy over him, and he wasted no time suckling her nipples deep into the heat of his mouth.
Brit arched her back, nails digging into the soft leather of the couch, and cried out. She throbbed between her legs.
“What do you need, baby?” Tag breathed against her aching flesh. Behind her, she could feel Vin smoothing his hands over the cheeks of her ass until his thumbs settled over the lips of her sex.
“Please.” The word barely left her mouth before he parted her with his thumbs and surged deep inside her. The sudden fullness from his shaft being buried in her was a nearly painful ache low in her belly.
Brit moaned low and shifted her hands to Tag’s shoulders. She tried to roll her hips forward to ease the pressure.
“No, love.” Vin grabbed her wrists and pulled them over his head, stretching her body up over his.
Kneeling upright in the middle of the couch, Brit blew out a harsh breath when his cock withdrew slightly, easing the pressure. Her relief was fleeting. Vin transferred her hands to one of his and spanned the other low on her pelvis, pinning her hips against his as he dropped back over the opposite arm of the couch. The position had her body arched back over his, and her pussy rippled around the girth of his cock as he slid in deeper, pressing hard inside her. His growl rumbled against her back, and something inside her delighted in it. “Just relax, give yourself time to adjust. God, you feel so good.”
“And she looks fucking sexy arched like that.” Tag splayed one big hand high on her belly, the tips of his long, thick fingers brushing the undersides of her breasts. “So small. And fucking perfect.”
When Tag leaned in and latched on to her already throbbing nipple, Brit cried out, jerking on Vin’s lap. Vin rumbled in her ear, released her wrists, and grabbed a fistful of her hair to force her mouth to his. She expected him to be aggressive, to devour her lips like Tag had, but he only pressed gentle kisses over her mouth, sucked at her bottom lip, and flicked his tongue lightly against her top lip. The heel of one hand massaged her mound, but his other kept a tight grip against her scalp. It was the contradiction of gentle and rough that confused her body and seduced her mind. She began to relax against him, letting herself just feel them—enjoy being a part of them.
“That’s right, love.” The hard columns of Vin’s thighs flexed between hers, and he withdrew only to slowly surge back in. “Just feel. Let it happen.”
Vin nipped and licked at her mouth as he began a steady, measured advance and retreat into her body, rubbing against a spot that tightened something deep inside her. The orgasm was a gradual build, and Brit impatiently tried to press down on him, but he held her firm.
“I need more.” Brit moaned into his mouth. Vin’s answer was a soft nuzzle of her lips and the aching glide of his cock through her. Slow. Steady. Maddening.
Desperate to reach that pinnacle that hovered just beyond her reach, Brit looked up at Tag where he’d moved to stand over them. His hazel eyes glittered with barely leashed passion, his gaze fixed on where she and Vin merged. His usual T-shirt was missing, and she eyed the angles and ridges of his muscular chest and stomach. Jeans open and hanging low on his hips, he had his thick erection in his big hand, stroking the length.
The sight of him made her clamp down hard around Vin and then ease up with a shudder. Yes, she needed Tag—needed the lightning whip of his passion cracking over her.
“Please, Taggart. Touch me.”
His eyes flared more green than brown, and he licked his lips. She watched him move to their side, the cushion sinking as he went to one knee next to them. He didn’t release the heavy flesh he was gripping, but he slid the fingers of his free hand up the inside of her thigh. Sensation sizzled from his touch to her clit, where she wanted his attention most.
“No.” Vin covered her pussy with his hand, careful to not touch anything vital.
Brit growled in frustration and bucked on him, the world around her falling into shades of blues and reds.
“Oh fuck, her eyes,” Tag hissed, his hand clenching on her thigh. She bared her teeth at him. If he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, he could go to hell.
Vin’s chest rumbled on a chuckle against her back. “That’s right, love. Let our female loose. We want to play.”
Brit shook her head and blinked, Tag’s face coming into focus above her. Her gaze dropped to his chest. A violent need to see blood smearing the smooth expanse rose sharply in her. Brit shook her head again, sweat beading on her forehead. What was wrong with her? A tremor quaked through her, and the throb between her thighs was excruciating, making it impossible to be still. That knot in her stomach tightened intolerably with each of Vin’s controlled thrusts.
Brit clenched her fists against the tingling in her fingers as she writhed against Vin. Tag’s hand lying still and heavy on her thigh felt like a brand against her skin. Vin’s heart pounded against her back, his breath heaving damp and warm against her neck. Something loomed on the edge of her awareness, the flash and violence of a coming storm. It both frightened and excited her.
Blood. She wanted to mark Tag, to feel the heat of his blood against her skin. Brit shook her head again and pulled against Vin’s hold on her. Something was wrong. An image rose in her mind of Raife Merrick standing in her lab, shirt torn. Something about the image seemed important to her. She tried to form it in more detail, focusing on his chest.
Suddenly both Tag and Vin growled, and Tag lunged at her, his chest pressing against her breasts, pinning her between them. The weight and heat of his cock seared her thigh, and their minds drove into hers, filling her with them.
The orgasm hit her so fast and hard her vision was once again snared into that net of blues and reds edged in blackness. She threw her head back against Vin’s shoulder and screamed. His hands gripped her hips, and he surged up into her. His roar slammed her body with little quakes of pleasure, throwing her into another orgasm. Their chests vibrated menacingly against her.
Thighs quivering, heart pounding, Brit gasped for breath. What just happened? Confusion shimmered on the surface of the orgasm-induced languor that blanketed her.
“You belong to us. No one else.” Tag growled against her cheek.
Brit blinked, the lethargy lifting. Their bodies felt heavy, suffocating her. Her skin crawled with some unnamed emotion, but it had her shifting restlessly between them. Their combined scent filled her nose, and her pussy rippled around Vin’s semihard cock, but in her chest a sense of wrongness filled her.
Shaking her head, she lurched up and managed to dislodge Tag enough that she could launch up off the couch and away from them. Confused by her contradicting reactions, Brit paced away from them. Instinct? Was this part of the mating? She spun to them. Vin was slouched back against the cushions where she’d left him, his big naked body taking up nearly half the sofa. His eyes were fixed on her, that rusty-green gaze alight with fury despite his negligent pose. She looked to Tag as he slid to his feet with predatory grace. His cock bounced against his flat stomach still hard, the head an angry purple.
Brit retreated a step, hair falling around her shoulders like cool silk against her heated skin.
“Brit.” Tag’s voice was low and throaty, but the warning was clear. They were angry at her. Her focus dropped to his chest again, and she remembered the violent need to draw his blood, to feel it against her own skin.
She should be appalled by the craving, but it only had an excited little thrill winging through her, and
that
frightened her. Brit didn’t do fear. Fear was a lack of knowledge. Brit backed away from them.
“I don’t understand what’s happening here,” Brit said, her voice slightly tremulous. Her knees still trembled, and she put more distance between her and the men. Violence crackled in the air, and she wasn’t sure if it was hers or theirs. Maybe it was both. Brit shook her head, struggling with her confusion and fear. Anger snapped through her at the untenable position she felt she was in. Information—she needed information, to understand.
The image of Raife Merrick standing in his ripped shirt rose in her mind again. The shadows behind that gaping tear in his shirt drew her, but she couldn’t quite grasp why. She needed to see him.
Tag’s lip curled on a growl. “You don’t need any other males.”
“We will give you what you need,” Vin added in a low, menacing voice.
Brit lifted her chin and stared at them as if really seeing them. They were both completely nude. She glanced around. No clothing littered the ground. Understanding sparked in her. They’d planned this? Brit gritted her teeth and rolled her shoulders against the prickling that crawled beneath her skin. “By pressing your advantage while I was vulnerable? More of that is exactly what I don’t need.”
Brit stormed into the master bedroom and looked around. Even the sight of that big bed didn’t affect her right now. She was too furious at those overbearing, presumptuous Neanderthals, and she was still sated from her multiple orgasms. All she wanted to do now was talk to Raife, to discern what happened to her in there. Whatever it was, it had something to do with the injury she’d seen on his chest all those weeks ago when he’d mated Katya.
To do that, she needed clothing. The bastard had moved all her clothing to his apartment when it was decided she could no longer be trusted. She touched the silver bracelet around her wrist, and her anger flared again. They knew she already had all their files in her head, and if she so much as touched a toe outside of Incog’s secure building, she’d be scooped up by the Triumvirate. What damage could she possibly do now? Certainly the damned tracking collar could be removed?
“Forestor decides when the bling comes off, baby, not me.”
Brit narrowed her gaze on the closed bedroom door. They never gave her a moment of peace. She raked her fingers through her disheveled hair, trying to ease the need to scream with the mundane task of taming the wild red mane. It wasn’t working. In fact it only made her want to tear at it. How could they reduce her from a sane, rational, intelligent woman to this hormonal insane…person?
“It’s the heat, love. Once you mate us, it will ease.”
Brit’s fingers clenched in her hair, and she forced herself to stop and take a deep breath. She might no longer be rational, but she was still a
clever
, if hormonal, insane woman. She cleared her mind and carefully brought forth the image of Raife sitting on her exam table without his shirt. She was careful to ensure his bare chest came into particular detail.