Chapter 50

Chapter 50

ALASTAIR

" T hanks for this," Alastair said, taking the pizza boxes from Jasper. "Really, I owe you. Now get the fuck out of my home."

Jasper chuckled, leaning back against the door behind him. "You're the boss," he said, but instead of leaving, instead of turning his ass around and walking right back out the door, he tipped his head to the side, as though listening.

"Is that her?" he asked. "In the shower?"

"I hear a lot of talking, and not a lot of ‘getting the fuck out of my home,' Jasper."

Jasper's smile only grew, a predatory glint in his eyes. "You mind if I join her in there? I haven't had a chance to shower yet, and it sounds like she's had a stressful time lately, you know? I bet she could use some relaxation, and if there's one thing dogs are great at, it's licking?—"

"Jasper, if you finish that sentence, I will fucking kill you. If you think about getting into that shower again, I will fucking kill you. If you look at her, if you glance in her direction, I will fucking kill you."

"Yes, boss."

"Get the fuck out of my house, Jasper. Be a good doggy and get your ass to work before we have a problem. "

Jasper's laughter followed him out and onto the street as he left, but even still Alastair stayed in the doorway a little longer than necessary, to make sure he'd gone.

Smart ass fucking Wolf , he thought. Alastair had never been the jealous type, not really. But after spending the last few days thinking Fey had been found and killed, he couldn't stand the idea of another male being around her right now. Some protective, fucked up instinct was rearing its ugly head and was taking full control of him.

Satisfied Jasper had, in fact, gone to work like a good puppy, Alastair closed the heavy door and engaged the lock. Faintly, he heard the shower turning off, so he carried the pizzas into the kitchen and began to assemble everything he would need to make sure his Witch was well fed.

"Is that pizza I smell?" he heard her call from his bedroom. The eagerness in her voice made him smile.

"Pepperoni and meat lovers," he called back, and when she groaned in response, his cock twitched.

Fuck . He'd been hard since the moment she'd left to shower. Since the moment he started picturing her wet and naked and perfect, and it had taken all of his very limited self-control not to break the door down and join her. But food, first. Sleep after. She must be exhausted—wherever she'd been these last few days, whatever she'd been doing, she looked raw and hurt. His cock could wait.

As if on cue, it twitched again, as though to say no I fucking can't . Not with her.

Alastair growled.

He heard her footsteps on the wooden floor of his living room and quickly piled a few slices of pizza on a plate for her.

"Did you want something to drink?" he asked, poking his head out of the kitchen to address her. "I have wine, or—" Alastair stopped mid-sentence. Stopped and stared.

"Do you mind?" Fey asked, smiling, holding her arms out to her sides. She was wearing one of his white dress shirts, and though it was long enough to reach her mid-thigh and baggy enough to leave everything to the imagination, she'd only bothered to button two of the buttons, at her stomach. The crisp line of the shirt front only seemed to accentuate how little fabric separated her body from his view. "My clothes need to be washed, and I didn't have anything else to wear, so I raided your closet."

Mind? No, he didn't fucking mind . He never wanted her to wear anything else again, not with how mouthwateringly good she looked in his shirt. And something about knowing it was his, knowing that she was wearing his clothing…

"Alastair," Fey purred in that luscious voice of hers. "You're dropping my dinner."

The plate he was holding tipped dangerously in his grip, and he hadn't noticed the slice of pizza slide off and drop onto the floor.

"Fuck," snapped Alastair, looking down. He snatched the slice from the ground and retreated into the kitchen to grab fresh pizza for her and something to clean up the mess.

When he emerged again, a plate full of four new slices in hand, Fey was curled up in the corner of the couch, her legs tucked underneath her.

She looked divine, sitting there. Alastair wanted nothing more than to drop the food he was carrying and pin those long legs open, wanted nothing more than to hear her say his name as he used his tongue and fingers to make her forget everything but him.

Instead, he clenched his teeth together, ignoring his throbbing cock. He could wait. Goddess grant him the strength to wait.

"Did you really leave to get us pizza?" she asked as she took the plate of food he offered her. He hadn't grabbed any pizza for himself—just a glass of wine.

Alastair shook his head, settling himself on the couch. He wanted to sit next to her, wanted to touch her, feel that perfect skin under his fingers, but he gave her a few feet of space. "No. I messaged Jasper to pick it up for us and bring it over. I didn't want to leave you here, alone."

Fey rolled her eyes. "You didn't want to leave me here, all alone and defenseless, huh? My savior," she said sarcastically. "So…you messaged your bartender to bring us pizza?"

She was already on her second slice, and Alastair couldn't help but smile at her while she devoured it.

"He's more like…" He waved his hand, searching for the word. "Mo re like a friend, I guess. Though, fucks me how that happened. He's like that with everyone, sneaks into your heart somehow."

"Do you trust him?" Fey asked, nibbling a piece of crust.

Alastair laughed in response. "Trust him? I trust him not to tell anyone you're here, if that's what you're asking. But otherwise?" He snorted. "No, I don't fucking trust him. That fucker had the gall to ask me if I'd mind if he joined you in the shower."

Fey laughed, taking another bite.

"Oh? And why didn't you let him in?" she teased, wriggling in her seat. "Maybe I would have liked the company?"

Alastair's teeth clenched together, and he took a deep swallow from his glass to keep his jealousy in check. "He's lucky I didn't kill him for even suggesting it, the weaselly fucking bastard."

"Weasel, huh?" Fey laughed. "I thought he was a Wolf."

"He is. Massive fucking thing, too. Bigger than Ferus, if you'd believe it."

"Mmm," she purred. "Maybe you should have sent him in to join me then."

"Why? Are you feeling lonely, Witchling?"

She shrugged, taking another bit of pizza and moaning at the taste. Alastair licked his lips, watching her, his eyes traveling up her bare legs.

"I could call him back if you are," Alastair said. "If Wolf is your taste."

"And where would you go?" she goaded him.

"Who says I would go anywhere? My bed is more than big enough for three." His eyes glittered dangerously as they moved from her body to capture her stare. If she could play this game, well, so could he. "Would you like that, Witchling?" he asked her, huskily, shifting closer to her. "Would you like to have two males worshipping you?"

Her breath hitched, and he smiled. She was so fucking beautiful when she blushed. So beautiful when she wasn't in charge.

"Is that… something you've done before?" she asked. So casual, too casual. The pink in her cheeks and the jump in her heart rate was giving her away, though. Naughty girl.

"Oh yes," he answered honestly, trying not to smile at her look of shock. "Two men, two women. I've been around a long time, Witchling; you might be surprised at the things I've done."

Moving his wine glass to his other hand, he reached over, running a finger up her thigh and toying with the hem of the dress shirt she wore.

"But you didn't answer the question, Witchling. Is that something you would want?"

She swallowed, audibly, and every signal coming from her body was a resounding yes.

Interesting , Alastair thought with a smirk. But…

"Relax, Witchling," Alastair said, leaning back to give her space once again. It was hard, so fucking hard when all he wanted to do was touch her.

He cleared his throat, trying to diffuse the tension pulsing between them. "You're welcome to stay here," he said, finally. "For as long as you need. The sheets on the bed are clean. I can sleep on the couch, or if you want your own space, I can sleep at the club. I have a room with a bed there, and you can stay here, free of charge."

Fey cocked an eyebrow at him. "You'd leave me here, all alone, in that giant bed? Hell, Alastair, maybe you should call Jasper to come back here."

His eyes were serious when he looked at her. "You called me for help, Fey, and I answered. There are no strings attached. The apartment is yours until you no longer need it." His eyes darkened. "But if I stay, if I share that bed with you, I won't be able to keep my hands off you. It's taking every ounce of my willpower not to rip that shirt off you right now, Fey. And I think you know that."

She smiled at him, taking another bite of pizza. And slowly she parted her legs, just a few inches, but enough for him to see she was nude beneath his shirt.

Alastair growled deep in his throat.

"I don't want to sleep in that bed alone, Alastair," Fey told him.

Feeling something loosen in his chest, he smiled. "Then come here, Witchling," he said, patting his lap. Fey set her now empty plate on the table, crawling over the couch until she was straddling him, one knee on either side of his body.

Her hair was still damp from the shower, and he brushed it over her shoulders, tucking it behind her ears gently. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" he asked, his voice soft.

Fey stilled and slowly shook her head.

"No," she said. "Not tonight. Tomorrow maybe, but… tonight I need a distraction. Tonight, I don't want to think about any of it."

Alastair smiled. "I don't mind being a distraction," he assured her, his free hand traveling down the front of her shirt, toying with the buttons. Fuck how did she look so good in it? He took a deep drink from his wine glass.

"You're not eating?" Fey asked, looking at the glass in his hand.

"No," he told her, taking another sip of wine. "No, I already ate."

She eyed the wine glass suspiciously.

"Is that…?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

Alastair stared into the wineglass, swirling the dark liquid inside. "If you're asking if this is, indeed, a full-bodied and quite delicious merlot, then yes, Fey, it is. And there's a full bottle in the kitchen if you would like some." He took a sip, watching the color rise in her face. "But if you're asking if I am drinking blood …"

She shrugged a single well-toned shoulder. "Maybe," she said, settling back against his thighs. The slight shift brought his shirt higher up her thigh, and Alastair took advantage of her closeness to slide his fingers lightly up the skin there, feeling her shiver under his touch.

He chuckled, gently caressing her exposed skin. "I'm young, Fey. I only need to drink blood a few times a year, and I don't do it from a wine glass with a beautiful woman on my lap."

Fey put her hands on his chest and closed her eyes, relaxing under his touch. Alastair's fingers trailing over her knees, the soft inside of her upper leg, inching higher and higher.

"Who do you feed from, anyway?" she asked. He smiled at the huskiness in her voice, the way she twitched every time his fingers moved further up her leg.

"Why?" he asked. "Are you jealous, Witchling?"

She didn't answer, just groaned so softly he could almost have believed he imagined it.

"Other Vampires," he answered finally. "I feed from other Vampires."

"Women?"

Alastair barked a laugh. "You are. You're fucking jealous."

Fey opened her eyes and scowled at him, but she inched further up his lap, her legs opening a little wider.

Fuck , she was intoxicating. His hand moved higher up her leg, reaching up under the dress shirt and caressing her hips. She was nude, under his shirt, and knowing that nothing stood between her and his hard cock except his own clothing made him suck in a sharp breath.

Fey's hands moved down his chest, touching him through his shirt. He groaned encouragingly, then clutched her tight to him so he could lean over and set his glass of wine on the table. He wanted both hands free, needed to have both hands on her.

"Could you feed from me?" she asked in a whisper.

"No," Alastair answered quickly. Too quickly, as he settled back on the couch. Her touch stilled and withdrew.

"Why not?" Fey asked. The soft arousal in her voice replaced with a cold chill. "Is there something wrong with drinking from Witches?"

He liked this, Alastair realized, trying not to smile. This small jealousy from her, this misunderstanding of what he meant. Ignoring the anger now simmering behind her eyes, Alastair took her hand, gently kissing her fingertips.

"We only feed on the weak," he answered, trying to explain it as best he could. "Or, we only feed on those weaker than we are. I'm the second strongest Vampire alive—not a brag," he added. "Just a fact. In a few years, I might eclipse my father's power, and eventually I think my brother will eclipse me. In fact, I know he'll eclipse me, and I'll be glad of it. But being this powerful means I have plenty of others to pick from when I need to feed." He nipped her fingertips lightly.

"And you won't drink from me, because?"

"It's… disrespectful, to drink from someone more powerful than you are. It's almost like saying they're beneath you." He sighed. "Look, it's hard to explain, but letting me drink from you would be like… it would be like asking me to say you were beneath me. Nothing, to me."

She considered this.

"You're saying I'm more powerful than you?" Fey asked, watching him carefully .

He considered how to answer this, his hands continuing to explore her body, moving higher, over her hips to her waist, pushing the fabric of his shirt up as he did so.

"Before? Maybe not. It would have been close, too close to tell. But now?" He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek, the soft skin of her neck. Breathing in that delicious scent of hers. "Something changed while you were gone, Fey. If you're not ready to talk about it yet, that's fine. Goddess knows you don't owe me an explanation. But now—" He kissed the delicate spot on her neck where her pulse was strong. Powerful. "You smell like raw power. Energy." His tongue snaked out to taste her skin, and she trembled. "It's overpowering. Yes, Witchling, you're more powerful than I am. And it would be distasteful for me to drink from someone so much higher than me on the food chain."

"Maybe I should drink from you," she teased. The anger was gone from her voice, he noticed with relief.

"Maybe you should," he purred. "I can get you a glass and a knife from the kitchen if you'd like?"

She laughed, and he pulled her even closer on his lap, pressing her as close to his body as he could, until he knew she could feel how hard he was for her. Knew when she felt him, from her sharp intake of breath.

He snaked his fingers over her back, gently cupping her ass. She quivered against him.

"What does it feel like? To have someone feed from you?"

"I wouldn't know," he answered her, truthfully. "No one has ever fed from me. But," he continued, "the women I have fed from—and, yes Witchling, it has always been women—tell me it is… a pleasant experience."

That was putting it mildly. Based on the languid state of the women after he'd fed from them and the satisfied smiles on their faces, he believed it might have been a bit more than a "pleasant experience" for them.

"Why so interested in how I feed, Witchling?" he asked, his voice a whisper against her skin. He brought his hand from behind her, slipping it between them so he could tease between her hips, and he smiled at the way she wriggled in his grasp, trying to get him to touch her properly. "Did you really want me to feed from you? "

"I don't know," she admitted, her hips jerking under his touch. "Maybe, it wouldn't be disrespectful if I agreed to it? If I asked you to do it? Maybe I want to?—"

She arched against him and gasped in shock as he bit into her neck, both fangs puncturing the area right above her pulse.

He held her there, impaled on his bite, but didn't feed. Didn't draw any of her blood from her body. He wasn't sure if he could, anyway; the idea of making her submit in that way was too sordid, even for him. And she needed all the strength she had for whatever it was she was dealing with. But this? A simple bite, he could do. Just to give her a taste.

To give him a taste.

Fey rolled her hips against him, trembling in his hold.

"Alastair," she whimpered, and he groaned in response. He could feel her pulse under his mouth, and it would feel so good to take a pull of that power, to truly taste her.

It felt so perfect holding her here like this, even without feeding. It felt right .

"Please," she pleaded, legs and hips shaking as his fingers continued to tease around her, never quite touching her where she wanted, where she needed to be touched. She groaned, clearly enjoying the feel of his bite, of his touch.

He couldn't answer her, not with his fangs buried in her neck, and when he continued to tease her, brushing his fingers over her but not quite touching, she let out a frustrated growl and grabbed his hand, pushing it against her, grinding against him, until?—

Fey shuddered and gave a small gasp. She came, a soft, mild orgasm rolling through her, his hand pressed against her clit.

Alastair released her, pulling his fangs from her neck and leaning back against the couch, eyes wide.

"Holy shit," he whispered. Something inside him roared, begged for him to sink his fangs back into her. He was hungry , he realized. Starving. But right now, in this moment, he just wanted to watch her come again. "Do that again."

Fey was panting, eyes unfocused. "Do…?"

Alastair grabbed her hips, grinding her pussy down onto him, pushing her against his cock and into the palm of his hand. "Use me like that, again, Fey. Take what you need from me."

It was too soon after her orgasm, too much stimulation too soon, but still Fey gasped when he pushed against her, gasped and arched, murmuring his name as another small wave rushed through her.

Fuck , Alastair thought, watching her shudder in his grip. He felt untethered and raw, intense need crashing through him.

"Bed," he demanded in a snarl, wrapping his arms around her and under her legs, and lifting her from the couch. "This time I'm fucking you on a real bed."