Wolfe didn’t think too hard about those who had come before him. He had no reason to mind, as long as it was all in the past.

  Eric’s future would be Wolfe and only Wolfe.

  “Other way around, then?”

  Eric cleared his throat. It was adorable, this strange shyness coming from him. “Sometimes. But mostly, just like, blow jobs. Frottage. Hand stuff. A lot of one-night stands don’t want to go…there.”

  “Mm. Shame. You have such a beautiful cock. They should have been begging for it.” Wolfe dipped a finger beneath Eric’s towel, tugging gently. “Show me.”

  Eric undid his towel with trembling fingers. So darling, how keyed up he was. Wolfe stroked the smooth pale skin of his freshly revealed hips. “And tell me, has anyone ever tasted that virgin hole?”

  His answer was a slack-jawed shake of the head.

  “Fingers, perhaps?”

  A slow nod.

  “Toys?”

  Another, more hesitant nod.

  “Glorious.” Wolfe let out a happy sigh. “I’m all up to speed. Now what would you like me to do with this gorgeous body of yours, darling? Touch it? Taste it?”

  Eric only stared, but the surge of lust at “taste” was unmistakable.

  Wolfe started with the neck, at the exact spot where he’d bitten him in that massage parlor. He had its location memorized, that particular tender bit of skin. He placed his lips there, kissing softly before nipping it with blunt teeth. “Your blood was the most delicious thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of sampling,” he murmured. “Is it any wonder my beast didn’t want to stop?”

  The reminder clearly woke Eric from his shaky, pseudovirginal trance. He pulled back slightly to glower at Wolfe. “Don’t remind me. I can feel how smug you are.”

  “Can you?” Wolfe closed the distance between them again, licking along the taut line of Eric’s neck. “And is it any wonder? Just look at you. Who wouldn’t be smug, having you at their fingertips?”

  “Plenty of people.”

  Oh, but the hurt ran deep with this one. Wolfe could see it perfectly: a young man, whose idiotic parents were incapable of showing proper affection, searching desperately for love. Perhaps the first time he’d reached out, the desperation had been too palpable, and he was summarily rejected and shamed. He’d learned to expect only the superficial.

  Wolfe grabbed Eric’s chin, turning his head to meet his eyes. He wanted this message to hit home. “Idiots, all of them.”

  He would erase them from Eric’s memory. With his touch, with his devotion. He tilted Eric’s head back and dipped his tongue into the hollow of his throat, pleased with the tiny whine Eric let out in response. And then he sampled the subtle variation of flavors in each new bit of skin. There was no salt or sweat, not after the shower. All clean soap. But underneath that, that lovely scent of wisteria. Not a trace of that horrid aftershave. Which was no surprise, as Wolfe hadn’t stocked any in their new home.

  Generally, Wolfe would take his time. Restraint had never been a hardship for him in bed, as lust had never been all-consuming for him. But here. Now. Wolfe could feel Eric’s need, each new tendril of arousal that blossomed so beautifully under Wolfe’s touch.

  His exploration was cursory at best, rushed. It was hard to take his time when every touch of his tongue or nip of his teeth pulled little groans and grunts and pants from his desperate mate. Wolfe didn’t last long at all before he was moving from his position and traveling down that long, built body. He hovered over Eric’s cock, delighting in the angry red color of the tip.

  Eric let out a harsh breath. “A-Are you going to suck me?”

  “I am.” But not like Eric thought. “Turn over, pet.”

  If Eric was confused at the request, he didn’t show it. He rolled over instantly onto his stomach, by all appearances content to let Wolfe run the show.

  “Spread your legs a little wider, darling.”

  Oh, but he was scrumptious like this. Eric may not have been some die-hard gym bunny, but his shoulders were naturally broad, his legs muscled and lightly furred. There was strength there, more than Wolfe himself had naturally had in his human life, surely.

  Wolfe ran his hands along those broad shoulders, those pale hips. He squeezed that muscled ass, earning a strange little sigh from his mate.

  “You have really nice hands,” Eric said, sounding almost drowsy.

  Amused, Wolfe gave him another squeeze, elicited another sigh. “Wait until you see what my tongue can do.”

  Wolfe slid onto his belly, ignoring his own aching cock and placing himself between those spread thighs. He pulled Eric’s cheeks apart, revealing the pink furl in between. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t tease. He licked him in one long swipe.

  “Oh my fucking God.”

  Wolfe smirked. “How’s that, darling?”

  He didn’t wait for a response. He licked again. No words of blasphemy from his mate this time, only a hitch of breath. Wolfe placed more focus on Eric’s hole, wetting it with his tongue, teasing it with his lips. Softening it to the point where he could stick the tip of his tongue inside, exploring and stretching. The strangled noise Eric made in response was really a thing of beauty.

  Here, Wolfe did take his time. He lost himself in devouring his mate. He was consumed by his scent, by his sounds, by the clean, musky taste of him.

  It was Eric’s squirming that brought Wolfe back, his hips wriggling like a fish on the line. Wolfe raised his face from his new ideal of nirvana. “Too much, pet?”

  “Wolfe.” He said it with full, plaintive desperation. “I need to fucking come. Please.”

  “Ah.” Wolfe supposed all fun had to end at some point. He could empathize, at least. His own cock was no doubt ruining his trousers, staining them with precum. It was a shame though. He squeezed Eric’s cheeks again before reaching beneath him to pull Eric’s cock back between his legs, wetting one of his own fingers as he did so. Wolfe slid down further and sucked the tip into his mouth.

  Eric keened. “Jesus.”

  Wolfe slid the tip of his finger into Eric’s hole, sucking with more fervor. He was done with gentle. Eric let out one last, hoarse yell, and then Wolfe’s mouth was filling with his salty, bitter essence, his mate’s muscular body twitching and trembling under his hands.

  “Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. Jesus Christ.”

  His mate was awfully blasphemous in his postcoital state.

  But now Wolfe was reminded of his own painfully hard cock. Eric wasn’t the only one who needed to come. And if Wolfe couldn’t claim him fully, couldn’t yet stick his cock where it rightfully belonged, then he was going to do the next best thing.

  He was going to mark that gorgeous face.

  Wolfe flipped Eric easily onto his back, moving up to straddle his chest. Eric’s face was beautifully dazed, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth slack.

  Perfect.

  Wolfe freed his cock from the restriction of his suit pants. He stroked himself furiously. He had no patience for finesse, for delayed gratification. Not with his balls heavy and taut, his frame so rigid with unreleased tension he felt he might snap.

  When he came, spraying his cum all over that gorgeous face, white spots danced along the edges of his vision, jolts of electricity running along his spine.

  Wolfe let out a satisfied sigh, studying his handiwork. Those green eyes stared back at him, shock widening them. White dripped along his cheeks, his chin.

  Eric licked at his lips, at the traces of Wolfe’s cum there. “Is this your idea of bonding?”

  Wolfe let himself laugh, low and mean. “Oh, darling, we’re just getting started.”

  thirteen

  Wolfe

  “I’m not sore at all.”

  Even though Eric was facing into the apartment, his broad back to Wolfe, habit more than anything else had Wolfe fighting to keep his lips from curling. “Well, darling, if you recall, I never gave you much more than a finger.”

  “Still—” Eric turned from the perusal of his apartment—his old apartment—to shrug at him. “It was, you know…all night.”

  Now Wolfe’s lips did curl. It had indeed been all night, somewhat of a full-time job, really, ringing orgasm after orgasm from his trembling mate, bringing himself to finish maybe once for every three of Eric’s own. By the time Eric had begged off, claiming oversensitivity and “serious dehydration” (impossible as a recently fed vampire, but the body sometimes took a while to adjust its expectations), the sun had been cresting over the horizon, and their mutual fatigue had officially dispersed.

  It seemed their bond had begun to solidify, as intended. As evidenced by the new pep in Eric’s step as he led Wolfe into his former bedroom. And by the smug, satiated little snake Wolfe’s beast had turned into. Whether the stabilizing effect had more to do with Wolfe coming for Eric when he was needed or their new sexual connection, he couldn’t really say. And why should he care either way? He had no intention of breaking either habit anytime soon. Or ever.

  It was new, this calm contentment radiating off Eric. Wolfe stopped in the doorway of the room, assessing it. He had so far only known his mate stressed, confused, restless, agitated, or lustful (or a strange combination of all of the above). But this morning, pawing through a drawer of what appeared to be loungewear, the connection between them pulsed with something soft and sweet, like nothing Wolfe had ever experienced in his own limited emotional repertoire before.

  He wanted more of it.

  He stepped inside the bedroom—somehow both messy and unkempt while simultaneously underfilled and underfurnished—keeping a careful eye on his mate, ready to step in if he made one move toward the bottle of aftershave on the dresser. But Eric only finished throwing his selected heap of clothes into a duffel, then stopped, hands on his hips, a somewhat lost expression on his face. “How much of my stuff should I take?”

  Wolfe stepped idly over to Eric’s closet, checking if there was anything in there he might especially like to see his mate wear. “As much as you might need, to entertain you during your leave.”

  It had been a simple enough matter, calling in and claiming leave for a medical emergency. There were an unholy number of forms to fill out, of course. But that was a small price to pay to have what Wolfe had begun to think of as their pseudohoneymoon uninterrupted by Eric’s work schedule. And if compulsion became necessary later down the line, Wolfe would make it happen.

  “Like what?” Eric asked.

  Wolfe cocked his head, turning from the closet. Eric seemed truly perplexed by the thought. “How do you usually entertain yourself?”

  Eric shrugged. “Well, I work.”

  “Yes, we’ve established that.”

  Eric gestured to some texts he had piled up underneath his laptop. “And I catch up on medical research on my days off. Work out semiregularly.” He glanced down at his body, then back up to Wolfe. “I guess I don’t have to do that anymore?”

  “Not as such.”

  Eric nodded. “And I go out at night. Try to get laid.”

  Over Wolfe’s undead body. “Mm. Well, we have that taken care of already, don’t we?”

  Eric must have picked up on his miffed tone. He arched his brows, a new, challenging set to his posture. “People think I’m a bit of a slut.”

  Wolfe waved a hand. “We’ve also already established people are idiots.”

  “I do sleep around though.”

  “You did sleep around.” Wolfe studied his mate, who now had his head turned away, avoiding eye contact. What exactly was Eric trying to make happen with this? Was he looking for some sort of hall pass, underestimating the fervor of Wolfe’s possessive nature? Wolfe thought not. Eric clearly lusted after Wolfe, if nothing else. Was he perhaps a glutton for chastisement? No, Eric was sensitive to barbs, even if he didn’t show it superficially. Or was he offering himself up for judgment before he could be blindsided by it?

  Yes, that was it.

  Wolfe tsked. “You know, darling, there is no inherent morality entwined with someone’s number of lovers. Zero, ten, a hundred. It means nothing, if all parties were consenting. Only misguided puritan attitudes say otherwise.”

  Yes, Wolfe had gotten it right. Soft tendrils of relief emanated from Eric, more than Wolfe had expected.

  And then Eric was no longer avoiding eye contact at all, instead grinning almost cheekily at him. “So you wouldn’t mind if I upped that body count?”

  Wolfe stepped forward before he could stop himself, his voice coming out harsher than he would have liked. “Not unless you also want to up the number of corpses in Hyde Park. You are mine, Eric Monroe.” Wolfe cleared his throat, forcing himself to take a step back again. “Now collect your belongings.”

  It was a meager sampling in the end. Eric’s laptop. The few clothes he seemed to feel some sentimental attachment to. And an assortment of medical textbooks he clearly referenced often.

  Wolfe frowned at the half-full duffle. “Any other books, perhaps?”

  Eric rubbed at the back of his neck, a flush darkening his cheeks. “Um, I don’t really read. Or, I read a lot, but it’s all medical stuff. These guys, some online journals, articles old classmates send me. I guess that makes me pretty boring, huh?”

  Did Eric have a single thought about himself that wasn’t mired in feelings of worthlessness? It seemed not. Wolfe cocked his head, considering. “You value knowledge and expertise. If anything, it denotes a curiosity about the world as it is, not as it might be. We’ll stop at the bookstore and pick up a few nonfiction options for you. Medical-adjacent, to start. We’ll see what other interests we can perk up in that lovely brain of yours.”

  He was rewarded with more of that soft, sweet feeling. It was so easy to bring up now that Wolfe knew the recipe. His physical presence and support, some logical reassurance against Eric’s insecurities.

  Perhaps relationships weren’t so difficult after all.

  Or perhaps it was simply that Eric was perfect for him, in all his imperfections.

  And now Wolfe was becoming absolutely sentimental. He could rival Johann at this point.

  Despite that sweet contentedness, Eric narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. “Why are you being so nice to me? Like you…care.” He tilted his head. “You don’t care, right? Or you can’t?”

  The “can’t” was debatable, and Wolfe wasn’t in the mood for debate.

  He went for the simple truth. “I desire for you to be happy. Content.”

  “Why? To stabilize the bond?”

  Wolfe crossed over to him, threading his fingers in Eric’s hair and tugging gently to make sure he was listening to every word. “Because—as I believe I have made clear—You. Are. Mine. Given to me by fate herself. Made for me. I take care of my possessions, Eric. It pleases me to take care of you.”

  There. That would ruin this new, sweet softness between them, wouldn’t it? People didn’t usually like being referred to as possessions. It may have been Wolfe’s particular brand of caring, but it wasn’t a popular one.

  But Eric only shrugged, the suspicious cant to his expression easing. “Okay. That makes sense.”

  Poor, emotionally neglected Dr. Monroe. But it was working in Wolfe’s favor, so he let it lie for the moment. He sighed, releasing his hold and taking the duffel from Eric’s hands. “What else do you do to relax, pet?”

  Eric hummed in thought. “Maybe fishing? My dad took me a few times when I was a kid. We ate what we caught, which made my mom happy. She liked fresh fish.”

  Not surprising that even in his relaxation, Eric felt he needed to be useful to his parents. “It’s winter, darling. The lakes are frozen over.”

  “Oh, right. Um, I don’t know, then.”

  Wolfe directed him out of the bedroom. “You were out the other night. The first time I saw you. With friends.”

  Eric stiffened under his touch for a moment, perhaps with the realization of just how long Wolfe had been watching him. But it eased quickly, and he shook his head. “They were just medical reps in town. We had drinks and laughs. They left again. Not friends, just acquaintances.”

  It was proof enough that Wolfe was rotten, in just how much that pleased him. Ah well, he already knew his faults well enough.

  But how to amuse Eric in the meantime? Wolfe would like to think the two of them together, completely isolated from the world, would be enough. But Eric was used to a fast-paced, high-stress profession. And though Wolfe would be teaching him to hunt soon enough, he didn’t intend to start until the other blood bag had been used up. Waste not, want not, after all. And that would give them more time for the bond to stabilize before Eric attempted a fresh feed. Wolfe wouldn’t want any unexpected complications, or to have his poor doctor arrested for murder.

  Eric gave a dejected sigh. “See why I need to work?”

  Wolfe tsked at him. “Just because you’ve been stunted until now doesn’t mean you need to remain stunted.”

  And Wolfe wanted more of this sweet, soft contentment. What made normal people content? Other people, it seemed. Connections. So perhaps Wolfe would have to resign himself to using a few of his own.

  “You remember Danny?” he asked.

  Eric shot him an amused glance. “The nurse I work with, who explained vampires to me, who also saved my bacon when I was freaking out at the hospital? Yeah, the name rings a bell.”

  Wolfe ignored the sass. “Perfect. Well, it just so happens he hosts a regular dinner for our kind…”

  The purpose of the family dinners may not have been vampire bonding, but that was beside the point. Eric needed friends. Wolfe would prefer for them to be people he already had full knowledge of. So Eric would be attending the next family dinner.

  And Wolfe knew just who to ask for an invitation.

  Wolfe eyed the portrait on the sitting room wall, all lush tones with a simple frame. Refined but not ostentatious, like much of the furnishing in Veronique’s home. Still, to the discerning eye, it was clear the expense she had gone to in decorating the place; money had gone into it. An awful lot of money. In fact, among just the three of this heinous den’s leaders lay an exorbitant sum, enough to keep an entire community of vampires in comfort for many, many years.

 

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