Oycher (27 page)

Blythe smiled sweetly. “See you later. Dru wants some blood samples from me for comparisons.”

Haley appeared eager. “I’m tagging along, learning the ropes of lab.” She reached for Keera but Oycher threw her overhead, tossing and catching her with perfect reflexes.

“We’ll be right here,” he said with an infectious grin, “when you’re finished.”

“Okay.” Blythe pushed Haley to the next corridor.

Oycher kept tossing Keera, smiling wider as she giggled. “Want to try holding her, krásny?” he asked. Isla hadn’t dealt with any shifters, since the rogues had imprisoned her. “It’s a small step, a fledgling shifter, but it’s a start.”

“Sure,” she agreed, reaching out as he placed Keera in her arms. “She’s powerful. Really powerful.”

Oycher made a funny face for Keera. “She should be. Her grandfather ruled the Habaline race. We don’t know if he’s alive or dead.” Suddenly, Keera locked her cognac-colored eyes on a painting of a Scarlet Macaw that hung in the entryway. Squinting, her irises glittered again, denoting her Habaline shapeshifter lineage. “So her father is strong.”

“And exhausted.” An enormous vampire misted in while dressed in familiar Vojak attire. “Hello, Isladora.” He looked at her, tossing his flaxen hair from ice-green eyes. “I’m Sixten Kovac.”

“Hello.” Isla sensed his shifter power pulsating and seeping into her very bones. Oycher placed a hand on her lower back, warm with reassurance.

Sixten’s polite smile grew adoring as he reached for his daughter. “Anjel,” he whispered with the faintest accent.

“Pápež,” she squealed.

Sixten tried to look stern, but it was a wasted effort. “I heard you didn’t take your nap. Again. That means Mommy is going to be tired tonight.” Keera patted his face and something red and sticky clung to his cheek. “This means Daddy, for reasons I cannot explain to a child, is going to be grouchy tomorrow.”

A red feather popped from the center of her forehead.

Sixten studied it calmly, then carefully glanced around the corridor until his eyes landed on the Scarlet Macaw picture.

Isla couldn’t believe she was shifting at such a young age, powerful was an understatement for her.

Sixten scolded her, “Now what did I tell you about shifting?” More feathers popped out, sprouting all around her curls. “Think big, Keera, like roving jungle cats who pick little red birds from their teeth.”

Isla gasped, looking in concern towards Oycher but he was just laughing. She crossed her arms, shaking her head at the two males in quiet disbelief.

“Go on, try it,” Sixten coaxed. “Remember the lions Daddy showed you, when we misted to the Serengeti? Let Uncle Oycher hear your roar.”

Instead, she blew another raspberry, before her nose took on the alarming shape of a beak.

Sixten tapped her nose. “Think lion. Think teeth. You’re the queen of the jungle.”

Six more feathers popped out, and Keera studied the window as though readying to take flight.

“Great.” Sixten raised a brow at Oycher. “Can you tell what she's thinking?”

Oycher pulled Isla against his side. “Basically, Keera wants an orange and has to pee, not in that particular order.” His smile turned calculating. “But I can tell you exactly what her mother is thinking.”

“Shit.” Sixten turned around to face his fuming wife. “Moja láska, I can explain.”

Blythe clenched fists at her sides. “You misted our daughter to the Serengeti!”

“You know that I wouldn’t mist her anywhere.”

Blythe looked wild around the eyes. “Keera knows how to mist herself?”

“Sometimes.” Sixten reached out and wrapped his hand around Blythe’s waist. “If it weren’t for Oycher being there, I wouldn’t have known her little thoughts were drifting high over the plains of Tanzania.”

Oycher signaled Terje, pointing to the front door. “This is one fight I want to miss.” He pulled Isla into his misting body, and they made their way into the darkened marshland.

Oycher stared up at the moon, wondering where the last Hound of Cyn disappeared to and what trouble it would bring. The possibilities were endless, the outcomes grim. Some situations were worse than even he could imagine, while others were absolutely perfect. “I can’t believe I’m participating in a Were mating.” Then his eyes dropped down to Isladora. “I love you.”

She jumped into his arms, hitching a leg around his hip. “I love you, Commander.”

Terje kicked off his shoes and tugged off his shirt, pressing his chest to her back. “We’re going to take you together again. But this time it’s a little different, okay?”

She dropped her head back on Terje’s shoulder, raising a brow. “Okay.” Just like that, she trusted them.

Oycher would honor that trust the rest of their days by not letting her down, even once. “Do you recall,” he said, reaching his hand around to cup her fleshy ass, “when I explained we needed a vampire from the Coven side to act as your guardian.”

Wrapping her tiny hands around his neck, she pressed her nose to his, a cute scowl marring her brow. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. I have complete faith in your warrior skills.”

“Well,” he explained patiently, his body strumming to life as she dipped in his hair and ran her fingers down its length, “a guardian is the same precaution and directive as a will is for humans. Terje can protect you, certainly. But if we were,” he stopped and amended; they would become parents one day. “When we have Younglings, they’ll need a male guardian from our Coven, whether Terje’s still alive or not. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Her mouth came to his, tongue licking against his lips for entry.

Oycher opened widely for her, allowing her freedom in the kiss, though she still hadn’t learned how to work around her fangs well, and Isla would cut him a thousand times a night. But he loved every slash of pain, as long as it was from her. When she pulled back on a hiss, licking a trace of his blood from her lips, he continued their pertinent talk with a fresh hard-on. “I’ve chosen Sage as your guardian. The reasons why are my own, and I will never share them with anyone — not you, not Terje, and not even Sage.”

Sage stepped out of the shadows, his stance rigid with pride. “I am honored, Isladora, to be your guardian.”

Isla widened her breathtaking smile. “I’m honored, too, Vojak.” Her eyes narrowed as if she remembered something. But then she shook her head as though clearing the thought. “Thank you.”

His smile was secret, or so he thought. “You are welcome.”

“Sage has to mark you in the same way I marked you,” Oycher explained. “But Terje and I discussed this.” Oycher looked to Terje for one last confirmation.

Terje spoke up. “Since we’re prideful males, we want you marked by Sage only where the three of us can see it.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Where only the three of us can see it?”

“He’ll bite you on the pulse point of your inner thigh, leaving a mark instead of healing the bite. This mark will be upheld in the vampire world the same as any contract,” Oycher explained. “In return, you offer him a small feeding now, and once a year thereafter.”

“Sounds like I’m getting the bargain, if he’s protecting me and my future children for the rest of my immortal life.”

Terje kissed her shoulder. “That’s my baby.” Oycher released her ass, and placed her on her feet. Terje pulled her against him, his chin brushing the top of her head. “I want to hold you while he feeds,” he whispered against her ear, holding back his Beast until Sage left the area.

Sage lowered himself to one knee, his leathers slightly creaking. He lifted her skirt slowly, exposing the porcelain perfect flesh known to any vampiress. As her dress moved higher upon her thighs, the moonlight danced across the lace of her sheer panties. Oycher could see the cleft of her bare pussy, her sweet lips rosy. Terje gathered her hem, so Sage could lick the inside of her thigh, finding the perfect, private place his Vojak wanted to place his mark.

“I’ve never marked a female,” he admitted hoarsely, his cock straining his leathers. He wrapped his gloved hands around her outer thighs, sniffing and licking all between her legs, his breaths becoming faster, choppier.

“Um.” Isla’s back bowed, her nipples pebbling for Terje’s hands when Sage bit high on her inner leg, right beneath her plump folds. She unconsciously brought her left thigh over Sage’s shoulder, pointing her toes with his first draw of blood.

Sage groaned, shuddering with the taste of Donor blood on his palate, and his claws shot through the ends of his gloves. “Mmm,” he mumbled between the second and third swallow.

“I can smell her ripening,” Terje growled, his Alpha Beast moving beneath his skin, his tribal markings shimmering. Then, in a burst of moment, Terje lost it and shredded Isla’s dress to confetti. When he made a move to rip off her panties, Oycher stayed him with a hand.

“Wait,” Oycher said levelly, “until he finishes this last draw.” Sage swallowed one last time, hissing, his blood high reaching the pinnacle of orgasm. Oycher moved his hand to Sage’s shoulder. “Breathe through it. Let it go.” Sage shuddered one last time and released the bite without closing it. With Isla’s supernatural ability to heal, the wound closed by the time Sage stood, but the mark remained clear. Her eyes were glassy, her hands in fists at her sides, she was holding back a climax as not to upset her males. This climax would have been only natural, so she had a lot to learn about relaxing.

Sage licked his lips. Terje’s head came down, his eyes fixed on Sage. The Vojak grinned. “I’m leaving.”

“D’akujem, Sage,” Oycher said meaningfully, knowing full well there would be a time soon when they would discuss his mercenary activity. Sage inclined his head and misted into the sky.

Oycher tore away Isla’s panties and watched her toe out of her shoes. Even her feet were hot, he mused as he stripped from his clothes. He could sense Terje warning surrounding immortals, focusing on shifters and vampires. He wanted no others around while they mated, apart from werewolf guards to oversee their privacy and protection. Oycher would not be offended in this, though he could easily protect Terje and Isladora while Terje concentrated directly on her during mating, but this was tradition, and Oycher understood tradition more than most.

Terje shucked his remaining clothes and wrapped his arm around her waist. She shimmied over him, rubbing her scent on his skin wherever she reached. He reveled in her emerging werewolf instincts, his breathing turning dark and needy.

Oycher gripped his cock, listening to Isla’s pulse throb right between her legs. Oh, if he could only feed from her for hours, he would.

Terje leaned her over his arm in a bending position, with the flat of his opposite hand. He adjusted her feet shoulder width apart and aligned his cock with her nether lips. “Claim you this night, my mate.” He thrust in one smooth stroke. But he didn’t stop and wait. Isla’s pussy quivered around his Nordic Inflixx just as a blue-tinged moonbeam hit him squarely in the chest. “I will never let you go after this.” Terje instantly became a snarling, relentless Beast, riding, riding, and riding. “Never, Isladora.” Her breasts were bouncing up and down, smacking his arm as he held her tight. Her mouth was open, her eyes widening in pleasure and a flicker of alarm. But Oycher could scent she wasn’t in pain.

She shook her head, her movement a blue blur. “Terje!” Isla dug her nails into his forearm, tiny streams of blood drizzling over his flesh. Oycher’s stomach howled and his cock stood straight out. He knelt in front of them, watching Terje’s balls dancing between her thighs. It was a sight, the thick flesh thwacking their mate deliciously. He flicked his tongue over the blood, lapping at the wine-like rivulets.

Terje lifted her higher, keeping his cock buried deep inside her pussy as he pulled her back to his chest. Terje’s butt clenched, holding her steady while Oycher moved his head and latched onto her clit. With a few swipes of his tongue and fangs, he coaxed her little nub out of its hood, angled his head just right, and pierced her with his fang.

“Argh!” she cried. This pain, on the sensitive bundle of nerves, would have been too much for a mere human. But she quickly hissed in pleasure as the sultry warmth of his endorphins heated her sex, her body eating it up as though it were candy.

“That’s it, my little vampiress,” Oycher coaxed, tugging at the pink tip with his lips.

“Move!” Her head flew back, clocking Terje right beneath his chin, but the pain turned him on, his jaw clenching as he fought to stay still. Teasing his mate was a rite of male werewolves. Oycher could see Terje’s balls tighten convulsively, as he suckled her clit harder and ran a probing fingertip over where Terje and Isla were joined.

She was stretching all around Terje, taking his werewolf’s cock to perfection. Terje started to move again, thrusting in and out. Oycher could see her cream slather Terje, her shiny arousal dripping down his cock.

Oycher pulled away slightly and lifted her by the backs of her knees, wrapping them around his waist so Terje could pick up the speed. Oycher pressed his cock against Isla’s stomach, allowing their torsos to offer warmth and friction to ease his sex. He brushed her hair to the side, eyed the vein he always tagged first, and drove his fangs clean into her. The pop of flesh beneath his bite shot a jolt of lightning through his balls.

She moaned as he swallowed her heady warmth, the delectable blood he craved day and night bursting on his tongue. He swallowed again, thrusting his cock harder against her stomach, the tip of his head moving between her sweat-drenched cleavage. Terje groaned, his eyes rolling back, his lips parting as he breathed through his canines. When she reached her blinding pinnacle, Terje growled as though he were in pain, stiffened, but held off his release.

Oycher withdrew his fangs, and Terje pulled his cock from her, keeping his hands under her thighs until he found a pile of soft palm fronds and settled her onto the ground. He loomed over her. “Mine.” His eyes glowing feral, their white-blue flares trained entirely on Isla.

“I love you,” she whispered, cupping his whiskered jaw.