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back into two dragon-like horns. She gasped when the part that swept downwards to conceal their nose and mouth opened, each slat sliding beneath the next.

The man shielding her said something in his foreign tongue.

Olivia pressed herself against his back and eyed the tools just a few feet away from her. A scalpel wasn’t a weapon, but it would suffice in an emergency. This was definitely an emergency.

Were these the men who had harmed the one in front of her?

The alarms continued to shriek and she prayed the resident hunters reached her before it was too late and these men attacked.

She dived for the tray of tools, but wasn’t quick enough. The man grabbed her right wrist and pulled her back to him, the swiftness of the action too much for her in her weakened condition. Her legs gave out and she hit the pale floor of the medical room, her left hand catching on the trolley and sending it crashing into the monitor stands.

One of the other men spoke.

In the same language as her specimen.

He answered them and she looked up at him, on her hands and knees on the floor. The men pressed their hands to their chest in a sort of salute. They were with her specimen. Here to take him from her. He reached for her and voices sounded outside in the corridor. The two men rushed forwards to grab him. The male snarled something dark and looked at her with striking purple eyes that spoke of anger, confusion and regret.

And disappeared in a brief flash of violet and blue light that left a flickering outline of him behind that lasted barely a second.

Olivia stared at the space where he and the two other men had been, blinking slowly, trying to get her head around what had just happened.

Hunters raced into the room, her friend Sable leading the charge. She rushed over to Olivia and helped her stand. He had wanted to do that. He had tried to protect her from men who clearly served him.

Olivia rested against the inspection table, confused and dizzy.

What was he?

She tugged the collar of her white coat up to conceal the marks he had placed on her throat, her fingers lingering over them.

He had bitten her, but said he wasn’t a vampire. A forefather of that species.

Olivia turned her head and stared at the remains of his clothing, replaying everything that had happened after he had bitten her. He had taken care of her, sealing the puncture marks, and then he had protected her.

And then he had held his hand out to her.

She had the weirdest notion he had meant to take her with him and had been angry because the arrival of the hunters had stopped him from doing so.

“Are you alright?” Sable bobbed around in front of her to get her attention, her golden eyes shining with concern.

Olivia focused on her friend and nodded.

Lied.

She didn’t feel alright.

She wasn’t sure she would ever feel right again.

Not until she knew what he was.

Not until she saw him again.

Not until she gave him hell for biting her.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Loren curled his hips, driving himself into the female’s supple body, tearing another sweet moan from her lips. Her fingers tangled in his black hair and she kissed him, her mouth hot and teasing, her tongue sweeping along his. He took control of the kiss, mastering her mouth and forcing her into submission. Her tongue danced with his, her lips soft and yielding, her taste addictive. He caught the nape of her neck with one hand and held her in place, taking her mouth as he took her body, his kiss as aggressive as his thrusts.

Her feet tightened against his backside, a silent plea for more, and he clutched her hips, dragged her to the edge of the black-rubber-topped table and pumped her harder, thrusting as deep as he could go. She tipped her head back, causing the soft waves of her chestnut hair to spill around her shoulders, a beautifully wanton and wild look in her rich brown eyes. Loren growled and took her harder, driven by a need to claim all of her. He grunted with each thrust, each meeting of their hips, lost in how warm and wet she was, tightly gloving him and driving him crazy with a need for more.

A fine sheen of sweat slicked her flushed cheeks and dappled across her bare breasts, some drops gathering on her beaded nipples.

Another growl escaped him. He wanted to taste those exquisite buds as he took her.

He leaned over her, pressing her down into the table and rising above her without breaking his rhythm. Her white coat parted, falling away from her body and revealing all of her to his hungry eyes. He snarled possessively and swooped down to claim her left nipple, tugging the hard pebble into his mouth. She mewled, clawed his shoulders and dug her fingers through his hair, clutching him against her. Her body clenched his, drawing him deeper, heightening his pleasure as he thrust into her with long measured strokes, feeling all of her.

Loren still needed more. It wasn’t enough. He needed to know she was his and she knew it.

She rocked her hips, countering his movements, taking him as deep as her body would allow. The tip of his length struck deep inside her and he withdrew almost all the way out of her before he plunged back in, striking her again. He moaned and curled his hands around her shoulders, settling his weight on his elbows. He dragged her against him with each thrust of his hips, desperate for more, needing to take her harder and deeper, ruining her to all other males. His legs quivered but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He wanted to possess her. He wanted to stamp his mark on every inch of her.

Loren rammed harder into her, making her feel him, wanting her to know she was his now.

She groaned and arched her breasts into his mouth, and he sucked harder on her nipple, teasing it with his blunt teeth as he continued to drive into her, relentless and hard, unable to ignore his need to take her so thoroughly she would never want another male and would never forget him. He lightly bit down on her nipple and her husky moan went straight through him. His fangs descended in response and he rose off her again, bracing himself over her as he plunged into her, bringing her towards her climax with savage relentless strokes. She thrashed her head and arched upwards, her body tightening around his, ripping a groan from his throat. Her feet pressed into his buttocks, forcing his hard length into her each time he withdrew. Her dark eyes pleaded him for more, her breathless moans his guide, telling him that she was close.

Loren wanted to feel them climax together.

His lips peeled back off his fangs and she obeyed, turning her head to one side, revealing the marks he had placed on her before, in this same laboratory. He struck hard again, burying his fangs into her soft warm flesh and pulling hard on her blood. She cried out and her body quivered around his, her pleasure racing into him through her blood, bringing him to climax. He shuddered and jerked, growled into her as he came, pumping his seed into her hot core as he pulled her blood into his body.

Loren shot up in bed, breathing hard and shaking, his senses reeling with the intense pleasure boiling in his veins. His cock ached, the brush of the silk covers pooled around his waist agony against his sensitive flesh. He rubbed his palm down it and heat shot through him, sweeping outwards with his groin at its epicentre. He groaned and flopped back onto the bed, struggling to catch his breath.

It had been two days since he had woken a captive of a mortal organisation and taken the female’s blood. Every time he had closed his eyes to catch some sleep and speed his healing, she was there waiting for him in his dreams.

Erotic, intense, incredible dreams.

Loren palmed himself again and then dragged his hand away. He was only inviting the dreams if he pleasured himself because of them. He dug his hands under the soft pillows beneath his head, caging them there, and stared at the wooden ceiling of his rooms.

Why couldn’t he get his mind off her?

She haunted him every waking hour and every sleeping one, filling his head with thoughts that had him needful of her and aching, hard at some extremely inappropriate times.

Loren sincerely hoped that his clothing had concealed the erection he had sported during a council meeting. It had refused to go away, dragging his mind through the gutter, making him imagine taking the female right there on his throne. He hadn’t heard a word his trusted advisors had said as they had gently berated him about his lack of caution that had led to him being injured and left at the mercy of demon hunters.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and then shoved his fingers through his black hair, yanking it back hard enough to hurt.

He hadn’t experienced lust in forty-two centuries, not since he had gone to war with his brother. He also hadn’t thought of anything other than Vail and their war in that time. He didn’t like it. He needed to focus on his brother now that he had re-emerged from hiding.

Searching for his brother had occupied most of his days since their war had begun. Vail cloaked himself, making it impossible for Loren to find him through the link between their blood, so all searching had to be done manually, using scouts and his dwindling army to follow up rumours and find clues.

His brother had been gone without a trace, clue or rumour to follow for almost four centuries.

Loren’s guard had been down three nights ago when walking the castle grounds, needing the space from his aides so he could think. Vail had defeated him before he had even managed to rally his senses and begin to defend and retaliate.

Somehow, he had ended up in the mortal realm. Was Vail there now?

It unnerved Loren. Vail had never taken their battle to the mortal realm and the council were concerned that he intended to reveal the existence of his kind to the humans.

Loren’s people were already low in number as it was, weakened by attacks resulting from his brother’s nefarious plots throughout the centuries. He wasn’t sure they would survive should the mortals discover a way into this realm and send in their armies.

The council were using this latest attack, and almost successful attempt on Loren’s life, to force him to agree to drop his attempts to capture Vail and end him instead. Loren closed his eyes, his chest aching at the thought of killing his brother, his only family. He was still convinced that Vail could be saved, but he was the only one who felt that way. Everyone else, even his second in command, Bleu, believed that Vail was a tyrant and deserved to die in exchange for the lives he had taken on the battlefield, both by his own blades and by underhanded tactics.

Loren had a

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