Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,89

what I needed to survive—

The bloodlust won out.

I lost control in a second—and drove my fangs into her neck.

“Rafe…” Blood oozed over my lips, my tongue, coating my throat and soothing away all the prison’s cruelty. B-negative was my favorite, and she was the sweetest I’d ever tasted. Like guzzling a mouthful of rubies, Katja was exquisite in every sense. I gripped the back of her neck hard, plunging deeper, drinking greedily as her hips bucked and rolled, rocking faster over my sheathed cock.

The bite of a vampire was nirvana. Six hundred years since I’d been turned, I vaguely recalled the sting—but I wholly remembered the pleasure. A toxin in our bite dulled our victim’s senses once it entered the bloodstream, flooded them with pleasure beyond measure. Akin to an earth-shattering orgasm, it stupefied them just long enough for the monster to feed.

Even if I hadn’t the time to properly fuck her, at least I could give her this—a flicker of light and ecstasy in this hellscape. Since she’d arrived, Katja hadn’t done it herself—slipped her hand between her thighs in the dead of night—or I would have heard.

And how could I forget such music? A symphony of hitched breath and shudders and my name moaned so soft and sweet. I was an instant addict—to her blood, to her sounds.

Unfortunately, nothing ever lasted in Xargi.

But just for a moment, I could give and take.

We both clumsily shoved a hand over her gasping mouth. She giggled against my palm, her hand clapped over mine, and rode me through a sensation that left her limp in my arms. Writhing and mewling, Katja relished my bite as none had before. I drank, feasted, every gulp fueling my fading body, all the while mindful not to take too much.

I had never accidentally drained anyone, not even in my orphaned days, alone in the world and trying to learn how to survive as the beast I’d become. But something about Katja called to me, begged me to swallow every last drop.

She’ll enjoy it, the little voice murmured, suddenly on my side—yet not. I couldn’t do that to her, but I also couldn’t peel my mouth from her throat, couldn’t withdraw fangs that now craved her above all others. My gut looped and bottomed out, desire clouding my judgment, the pull toward her stronger than ever…

Locks clinked and clanked from the common area; some piece of shit had returned early.

Katja flailed back, and had I not guided her, she would have fallen clear off the side of the cot and crashed to an unforgiving stone floor. Shaking, noticeably woozy, she scrambled backward and tried to stand, but I seized her forearms and held firm.

“Wait a moment,” I urged softly. “Catch your breath. Let the dizziness pass.”

She nodded as Tully hopped back on the cot, and I grimaced at all that beautiful B-negative smeared across her neck and shoulder. Some of it even flecked onto her jumpsuit—and that bra strap had gone from white to bright red. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Not good. Not good at all.

At least the wound had sealed over. Even on a creature without extraordinary healing abilities, the toxin from our bite encouraged the punctures to clot, while their body would do the rest. Couldn’t have casual feeding partners bleed out, after all.

With a purring familiar on her lap, Katja went for her jumpsuit, but her fingers lacked the dexterity to button anything up. I steered her hands down to Tully, silently encouraging her to just enjoy the softness of his fur while I grabbed my pillow, ripped off its grimy case, and then wiped her down. It wasn’t ideal—and I would have much preferred to lick her clean—but anything else would set off the monster again. Now, how to explain all the blood to the laundry staff…

Never mind. It didn’t matter. One disaster at a time.

Once I had tidied her up as best I could, I buttoned Katja’s jumpsuit and fixed her hair. If she strolled out of my cell looking like she had just been fucked, someone was bound to notice—even if technically that wasn’t the case.

Sure, she had climaxed on my lap. I could smell her heady arousal from here, her slickness almost as distracting as her blood.

“I’m so sorry, Katja,” I whispered, self-loathing soaring to an all-time high. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Do you regret it?” She gathered Tully to her chest, her eyes more focused now, her movements steadier. Nibbling that split lower lip, she waited patiently for me to sort through my