18. Alessandro

18

ALESSANDRO

“ S he did it,” I bark, rising from my chair and tossing my book aside.

Pietro glances through the doorway from his spot on Valentina’s tiny porch. He’s been “people watching,” which really means he’s like a dog at the front door, waiting for its owner to return home.

He rises and comes through just as my comm watch lights up. Everything inside me curls and sparks into hot flames at seeing her name. Or maybe that’s her stroking us through the bond.

When I direct the watch to answer her, her voice sounds small and far away.

“Bad news first,” she says with a tinkly laugh. “Even though this was my only meeting today, my schedule is now full to the brim with follow-on meetings.”

“What’s the good news, darling?” Pietro leans into the watch. “We need to hear you say it.”

“Nothing is final,” she says cautiously, “but it looks good. Everything. Even Grand Portal Station.”

Pietro slumps forward, bringing his forehead to my chest as he grips my right biceps with his fingers. His muscles tremble, our bond filled with relief like I’ve never felt.

“Come home,” he growls. “As soon as you’re able to. Congratulations, amore.”

Her voice goes husky. “I’ll be home as soon as I can get out of these meetings. But we did it, mates. This is going to happen, and I have you to thank for it.”

“Thank us with your mouth,” I say on a laugh. “I’ll keep Pietro occupied until you’re able to return to us.”

“Actually, there’s a great little café called Grind around the corner from my place. You should check it out. They’ve got food and great drinks. Might give you some ideas.”

Smiling at Pietro, I agree. When we end the call, he glances up from my chest area. Our bond is fraught with need.

“Do you need me?” My voice is ragged and rough. The sheer joy of Valentina’s success is overwhelming. We won’t be able to celebrate with her for hours.

Pietro brings his mouth to mine and sucks at my tongue. Biting the tip, he rocks his hips against mine. “I need you, and I want to see this coffee shop. Perhaps we can play there.”

Knowing Valentina, it wouldn’t surprise me if that was exactly what she had in mind.

“Done,” I breathe into Pietro’s lips. “Let us grab our coats and go.”

We manage to leave her apartment with minimal fucking around. As we head outside, it jars me that the sky remains black, the quiet snow falling just like last night. I’m not sure I could entirely get used to a haven where it seems to be night all of the time.

I’m lost in thought as we walk up the block toward the location she gave us.

“That’s a great fucking name,” I mutter when Grind comes into view. Like everything in this haven, the sign is black and white, and the entrance is darkly elegant. Wooden flowers creep and crawl up the front of the café, over the door and back down the other side. They’re roses, threaded through with thorns and tiny platters with black wooden coffee cups. It’s an incredible installation, and Valentina was right… it gives me ideas for Higher Grounds.

Pietro grabs the door for me, and I sail through with a playful pinch to his side. He hisses but follows me in. Except I stop in the doorway, shocked at the scene within.

This isn’t just a coffee shop, it’s a vampiric coffee shop. It’s sex and blood and coffee all mixed together.

The first thing I notice is the giant minotaur strapped to the wall with both hands behind his back. He’s blindfolded and naked, his cock erect and bobbing in the air. Two vampire females take turns licking and sucking on him as he lows quietly into the room. Watching them pleasure him tightens my sack. A third woman steps to his muscular stomach and sinks her fangs in, slicing his skin. She drips his blood into her drink, then laps at it to close the wound.

But it’s not just him. Farther back down a dark hallway on the left side of the ordering area, other monsters are strapped to the walls, surrounded by vampires enjoying their bodies and their blood.

“Oh my gods,” Pietro mutters, reaching down, I presume, to adjust an erection that matches mine.

I give him a sultry look. “And our woman sent us here to tease us.”

“Spanking later,” he says, walking toward the countertop where there’s shockingly not a line.

I follow, taking in the right-hand side of the coffee shop, which holds a dozen small tables with monsters working on computers, reading, writing in notebooks as they enjoy their drinks. But the drinks aren’t like ours. Nearly every drink has sticks dangling from it with bits of meat and vegetables, shrimp and all sorts of add-ons. One lovely female drinks a frothy troll-whip-topped coffee with a stick speared through a jalapeno pepper.

“Definitely getting ideas,” I say to myself as I join Pietro.

It takes us five full minutes of examining the menu to pick our drinks. I opt for the Crimson Scar Espresso, and Pietro picks a Blood Clot Latte.

“This is fabulous,” he says as we find a seat. Ten minutes later, we’re still admiring the darkly decadent shop when a barista calls our names.

As I take my drink from the barista, she hands me a needle attached to a short tube. She gestures toward the wall. “Any monster with a blue card above their head has consented to being drunk from by a male. Simply slip the needle into an available vein until your cup is filled.” She smiles at me. “Just don’t forget to close up the wound. Makes a terrible mess when we don’t.”

Thanking her, I eye the line of available options. The minotaur has no blue card, so he must not be interested in males. Farther toward the back there’s a handsome dark elf with a square jaw. He’s not blindfolded, and he looks my way with a smirk. A blue card above his head indicates it would be fine to drink from him.

Stalking past tables of chatting vampires, I pause beneath him to admire how handsome he is. Rough stubble lines his jaw, long white hair pulled into a messy bun. Pieces of it hang down around his ears. The sudden urge to grip that bun and use it like a handle hits me, and I clear my throat to mask a groan.

“Hello, vampire,” the dark elf says with a wicked grin, his teeth gleaming white from behind inky black lips. “See something you like?”

“Yes,” I breathe out. This is the best coffeehouse I’ve ever been to. My naughty mate has sent me to heaven with this recommendation. “I haven’t been to Grind before, but I am absolutely enthralled.”

“I get that a lot,” he says in a smug tone. “Drink from me, handsome. Or better yet, suck my cock while you drink from me.”

“Do you have a preference in locations?” I smile at him as I wave the bloodletting needle.

“Anywhere you want to suck is fine,” he says agreeably.

I laugh. This male is impetuous and sultry, two things I adore in a partner. I drag my nails down his thigh, watching his fat cock bounce against his leg. He grits his jaw, staring at me like he’d eat me alive if he could escape being tied to the wall.

“Locations for bloodletting?” I ask again as I inch closer, hovering my mouth over his dick, wondering what he might taste like.

“The closer to my cock the better,” he answers, stretching against his bindings.

His sensual words are giving me ideas. Like how we should perhaps invite him home and enjoy him with our mate.

“Noted,” I say with a wicked grin. His muscles tense and tighten, his cock bobbing to slap me on the cheek. Leaning down, I lap at the base of it, enjoying the way he grunts. I can feel his focus on me as he tries to rock his hips but can’t.

Striking, I bury my fangs at the base of his dick and suck him down. He gasps and grunts and growls, nearly snapping one of the restraints. Once I get a good blood flow going, I press the bloodletting needle to the wound, watching as his dark red blood flows down the tube and into my latte. His scent mixed with the coffee has me ready to fuck.

I tap the edge of my cup as his blood fills it to the brim. Tucking the bloodletting tube under my arm, I lean forward and suck at the wound as he hisses. A quick lap of my tongue will clean the blood so the wound heals faster.

Black eyes flash at me, his interest obvious. He lifts his chin. “Our chemistry is obvious. Tell me you want to take this somewhere, because I want to take this somewhere.”

“I’ll ask my mates,” I tease, straightening away from him. “How might I find you if they’re interested?”

He jerks his head toward a small placard at his feet. “My info’s there.”

I glance at the sign.

“Diavolo, what a beautiful name.” I lap at the edge of my cup, his eyes following the movement of my tongue.

“Call me,” he commands, bristling the hair on my nape.

“I just might, Diavolo,” I croon, turning from him. But I sense his focus on me all the way back to the table.

Pietro’s eyes fall to my cup as I set it down. He leans over and grabs it, taking a slight sip. His second eyelid flashes over his eyes as he looks toward the dark elf bound to the wall behind me. He’ll have heard the entire exchange, so I don’t need to fill him in.

“Decadent,” he says. “We should definitely call him. Valentina would enjoy that.”

“Not just Valentina,” I admit with a laugh. “We are definitely calling him.”

Pietro’s crimson eyes flicker to the male again. He sips his espresso with a smile.

Behind me, the dark elf’s low rumbling is the perfect backdrop to a drink full of his delicious, sensual blood.