Oycher (15 page)

Terje heaped turkey and stuffing on her plate, then followed with yams. “It sure was what I needed.” His smile was wicked. “And I’m raring for more.”

He watched her cut into the dead fowl, trying not to make a face, and raised an eyebrow at Terje. “How many days must we keep our movements to the human way?”

Terje lifted his chin, his eyes glowing with the Beast. “She’s not following the rules, so I’m thinking we shouldn’t, either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Isladora smiled with relish, chewing and chewing. Her hand-fork coordination a blurring blue movement that Oycher could easily keep up with, but he wondered if she’d ever eaten that way in public.

Oycher tilted his head. “Watch yourself in the mirror.”

She looked at the gilded mirror hanging on the deep mahogany paneling, studying her reflection. Oycher had decided that the entire formal dining room was an arctic monstrosity complete with white and ice-blue tapestries honoring the legacy of the Nordic Alpha - Terje’s grandfather. But Oycher would admit that this was a nice boat for enjoying privacy with his newly beloved. He’d never had a reason to stay in any other place after he’d taken command, instead, preferring to live in Sanctuary with his Vojaks. Now, he would have to buy his family a house.

Her eyes became as big as the dinner plates, a flush rising to her cheeks. “I guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”

Oycher caught her thought. In college she’d stuck with canned soups and noodles, never having enough money for food. Her determination to complete her degree trumped anything she’d considered a luxury. This made him sick. Food was a necessity to humans, not a luxury. And he would find a safe way to get her back into school, even if he had to walk her to every class.

She put down her fork, and he lifted it to her mouth. “You’d better eat well. I think you’ll expend more energy soon,” he said wickedly, trying to defuse her rising embarrassment. She took a bite and he slid the tines slowly over her tongue. Of course, he made the mistake of dropping his gaze to her throat, when he dropped the fork to her plate. Not only because he wanted to know what her blood tasted like and was starved for her, but because when she chewed and swallowed, he imagined his cock pulsating against her tongue.

She wiped her mouth. “Delicious. Can you eat any of it?”

He could eat her. “If I want to be sick, I could.” During his Youngling days, he’d done so to impress a human girl, wanting her to think he wasn’t a blood drinker. In those dark times where blood bathed the streets, humans were more suspicious, believing in the fanged who could snuff our their lives, whether provoked or not, was commonplace. “Like I said, there’s only two things a vampire can drink. One of them is blood.”

Isla opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. Shook her head and then shoveled yams between her lips.

Oycher wanted to be that fork, sliding in and scraping her teeth. “You want to ask me about my feeding habits.”

She stiffened and swallowed. “I do?”

“You don’t want to feed me, yet you’re wondering who has apart from Terje. Why, Nevesta, I do believe you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” she argued. “If I’m so addictive, you shouldn’t feed from me, that’s all.”

If the vampiric wedding ceremony would truly change her in the way he hoped, she’d never worry about any vampire using her and losing control. The process had worked favorably for Oycher’s Master and his Bride, as she, too, was a Donor. But he’d been told the transformation from Donor to Vampiress was hit or miss. Therefore, Oycher could only hope for the best possible outcome. As many times as he’d seen how powerless Isladora felt inside her mind, knowing she was desired on so many levels as a Blood Pet, Oycher wanted to give her a new life with nothing but strength and power backing her.

“I love your scent because you are mine. However, I’ll admit that you smell succulent to me, and although I want to drink from you, I would never drink you to death. Don’t you remember my pledge to never hurt you?”

Sure, he’d tasted Donor blood on several occasions, but not as a way to get high, and he’d admit the flavor and euphoria were unsurpassed. The addiction he could understand to a point. But he would never, ever kill his Bride or any other Donor from lack of control. If he didn't have control in spades, he wouldn’t be sitting this close to her now.

“Still,” she started.

Terje interrupted. “I agreed to start feeding him, my mate, since you can’t,” Terje said quietly. “My brother feeds his co-mate all the time and so does the Beta.” He reached over, his mouth touching hers lightly. “It’s not a big deal, and, that way, we’ll keep it in the family. That should keep your territorial instincts in check.”

She touched her teeth with her fingertips. “Territorial?” Then she rubbed her throat. “Well, then, you won’t ever have a need to bite me, Commander.”

Bite her? Soon, Oycher was going to mark the hell out of her. She’d agreed to staying on Terje’s boat for a few days. A getting-to-know you period was what she needed. Terje and Oycher were already set in their minds and hearts.

“Try these,” Terje said, handing her a basket of bread in a way of changing the subject. “My mother used to make me lefse. I can’t wait for her to meet you.”

“I’ve heard of that, potatoes and sugar. The bread looks folded, right?”

“Yeah, can you imagine how much she would have to make just to feed me, much less a family of us males?”

“No,” she said thoughtfully. “I suspect she cooked in werewolf speed, though.”

Oycher watched her tear aggressively into a yeast roll, and handed her what he thought was a gelatinous ball of cranberry juice. His eyes narrowed on her hands, wanting her to use those nails on his cock and balls. “My mother doesn’t cook.” His vampiress mother was a heartless witch hardly tempered with the passing of time. However, she hadn’t always been that way. The loss of Oycher’s Vojak father had destroyed her from the inside out, her soul chipping away with each new day. And the death of his brothers hadn’t helped her along any. If Isladora didn’t accept him…He just couldn’t bear to think of the monster he’d become.

She stared at her plate through unfocused eyes. “Do vampire children drink blood from birth?”

“Are you sure you want to discuss this now,” Terje said, rubbing the back of Isla’s hand with careful fingertips.

She swallowed audibly. “I’ve eaten enough.” Pushing back her plate, she stretched her legs beneath the table. “I need to understand.”

What was this? Was she considering the fact that they could have children? Oycher would tell her how much he loved kids, but it would probably scare her to death. “Most vampire children eat food until they near Youngling status, often sixteen to eighteen years of age. Then they slowly ease into feedings as their bodies cannot survive if they don’t drink. Much like Terje, my family was blessed with wealth. Mother hired cooks for her seven sons. She was always a member of the vampiric aristocracy, so cooking was considered, by her, at least, a chore better left to those beneath her position."

“I see.” She nodded. “Where does she live?”

“For the past two centuries, she has lived in Russia with her family.”

“And your brothers?”

“Two are dead, four still reside in Russia.” Oycher really needed to have a second vampire claim Isladora just for guardian purposes. If she were ever to carry and produce his young, and Oycher passed on, he wanted a male representative from his side of the immortal world to help watch over them, in addition to Terje. He couldn’t have his side of the family try and take her Younglings away. They were far too powerful, and she wouldn’t have a chance in hell against them. “In that part of the world, where our population is the strongest. My brothers’ locale depends on where they’re called to duty.”

“I’m sorry for the brothers you lost,” she said softly.

His heart warmed. “Thank you, Isladora.” He cocked his head. “But the Vojaks have become my family, particularly Sage. He reminds me of my youngest brother, Rande.” Her answering smile just about did him in. But a question was burning at the forefront of her mind. “So you’re wondering about the Gryphs and the Lovci.” He couldn't blame her. They were hell in the skies for someone such as her.

“Are they born with wings?”

“Yes.” Very gently, he leaned in to kiss her cheek. “And they, too, eat food until they hit the beginnings of Youngling status.”

She said curiously, “Their bodies work those colossal wings, keeping them airborne.” Isla shuddered. “They’d lift me as though I weighed nothing.”

Isla weighed nothing to him, too, but he didn’t need to remind her of his great strength. She was skittish enough. Oycher reached beneath the tablecloth and settled his palm over her thigh. “Gryphs and Lovci are no longer your concern, but Terje’s and mine.”

Her eyes turned glassy. “It’s a weird feeling not fighting for yourself. I have to…do something.” She placed her soft hand over his. “When Terje started training me today, I was empowered. I want to continue that. I need to.”

Terje put his napkin on his plate, pushing it away. “Then continue by working with the incoming Donors for Pack, but stay inside the safety of our complex,” he said emphatically. “And we really need to sit down and discuss boundaries, Isladora, for your males’ sanity and for your safety.”

She seemed to zone out, and Oycher followed her thoughts to a summer haze of a day, where she watched on while Gryphs and Lovci took flight. Jealous that she couldn’t fly yet still awed by their fierce presences, she hadn’t taken her eyes off them for most of that day. “Although they have wings, why don’t the Lovci or Gryphs mist like the two of you?”

“They can’t. They use only their legs or wings to travel.” Fingers sliding over the soft fabric of her dress, he nearly groaned aloud, thinking how hot and slick she’d been around his cock.

Terje asked skeptically, “So none of them mist?”

Oycher leaned over Isla, his hand drifting closer to her apex. “In some instances, though rare, a Lovec or Gryph has a broken lineage.” He inhaled just behind her ear. “Similar to this sweet mixed blood. Let’s say a powerful line, more so than a civilian of Dynasty or Vojak blood is an ancestor. The Lovec or Gryph may fly and mist. It’s rare and usually the vampire’s wings are smaller. So the wing size impends battling while maintaining flight. Never would you find a Master Gryph or a Master Lovec of mixed blood in any monarchy.”

She opened her mouth again, “So what about…”

“Shush,” Oycher said, his hand inching toward where he wanted his cock, “more questions later. Now, I want to take you again, before we leave for work.”

Oycher stared deep into her eyes, his eyes the color of twin burning suns without the painful glare. At that moment, she never wanted to look away. Isla quietly ran her fingertips across his dark mahogany whiskers. They felt so normal against skin that felt anything but human. Moving up, she traced his lips, first the bottom — pouty and flawless, and then the top — two arches separated by a V. “You’re the last creature in this world I should find attractive.”

He leaned and slid his moist mouth across the curve of her cheek. “Ditto. I’m not supposed to harbor a Donor.”

“I’ve donated enough of my blood, Vampire.” She plunged her forefinger between his lips, wondering if she could get used to his fangs, though she doubted it. His eyes narrowed. Listening again, she thought. He smiled around her finger, all teeth and fangs, before he suckled it with his tongue. She pressed her thighs together in heightened agitation. But it wasn’t the apprehensive kind of agitation. It was simple impatience. She wanted him.

He threaded his fingers through her long hair, crushing the silky strands between gentle fingertips. His opposite hand moved from her inner thighs to her breast, where he shimmied his knuckles over her right nipple. She was braless, and her bud stood out beneath the thin fabric of her dress, going tauter with each deliberate pass. His eyes fixed and hot on her puckering nipple, he hissed around her finger in a panty-smoldering way. Sliding her finger once more over his tongue, she wanted to touch his fangs…just to see. Instead, she pulled it from his lips.

Her finger moist from his saliva, Oycher took her wrist and flipped it around to her mouth, pushing. She licked it, and he raised a brow in question. “Are you going to take my cock that way in your mouth? Or should I start somewhere else tonight?”

She shrugged casually, though she felt anything but. “We could always wing it. Or are you a planner, Commander?”

With a devious chuckle, he gripped her waist with his arms, arching her back, and wrapped his mouth around her right nipple that strained beneath the fabric. When the moist abrasion tickled her nerves, something wickedly hot cramped her womb. The next thing she knew, she was pleading with her vampire with what he must have heard in her thoughts. “I want you.”

“I know,” he responded, kissing a trail from one breast to the next. “There was no going back for any of us, after the first time.”

She moaned when his mouth fastened to her opposite nipple, his flat teeth nipping in between his sucking.

Suddenly, Terje gripped the hair at her nape, easing her back, and crushed his mouth to hers. He sucked her tongue forcefully into his mouth. His Beast meant business. Her core opened up, clearly receptive to two males, and she couldn’t imagine anything else besides taking them into her body. Still…she was a tad nervous about the prospect. Over the past few months, Haley had told her some things about werewolf mating that sounded, frankly, uncomfortable.

Isla fidgeted beneath Terje’s kiss and Oycher’s hot mouth on her nipple. She needed room, didn’t want to be confined to the limits of the chair. She pushed at Oycher’s head, taking a quick moment to run his beads between her fingers. Isla needed the satiny hair she could never mistake for a human’s brushing between her thighs.

“What’s wrong?” Terje asked, pulling away from his drugging kiss when she squirmed.

The pressure of lust, power, and two oversized males was getting to her. “I’m fine.”

Oycher lifted her to stand. “That’s right, you are fine. You’re eager, aroused, and a little nervous but you don’t want to stop. Oh, the pleasure Terje and I have in mind for you.”