It was cold outside and she was naked, refusing to even put on a flimsy piece of lingerie. And in her state, Vivienne could not feel it. While immortals were definitely harder to kill than humans, they weren’t invincible. And he was taking no chances.
She wasn’t allowed to leave his room. He’d told her that to her face, and she’d cursed at him, thrown things at him. He’d expected it. Heat made females irrational, among other things. It was for her welfare, for the welfare of the males in the house and in the pack. She was in heat, and the only reason he wasn’t acting the part of crazed mate was because she was in his room, and his room was devoid of males.
He entered cautiously, carrying a large tray filled with comfort food. When no projectiles came at his head, he put the tray down and looked around the room. The window wasn’t open, which he’d expected, but the shower was running. Narrowing his eyes, he walked into the bathroom, opened the glass door, and promptly turned off the tap. She was showering with ice-cold water.
“Vivienne!”
She bared elongated canines and hissed at him. Her irises had shifted to yellow once more. They’d been alternating between her regular color, black, and yellow since last night. She looked tired. Due to her state, she had caught only small portions of sleep.
“I’m hot. You won’t let me open any of the windows, and I’m burning up.”
He reached out for a fluffy blue towel and pulled her from the bathroom, wrapping her in it, and massaging the soft material against her skin. “It will pass, Vivienne.”
“You said that hours ago.” He had, when he attempted to explain what ‘heat’ meant to their kind. She’d decided it was a PMS/menopause combination that included heightened arousal, and severe emotional issues. “When?”
“It differs for different—”
“No!” she cried, pulling away from him and walking from the bathroom. She immediately moved over to the food tray and plucked a blueberry muffin from it. He watched as she ate it quickly, and then selected one of the scones. She’d specifically asked for them. “I want a number of hours, days. Anything. You said I’m in heat. Fine. But how long does it last? When will it stop?”
Her eyes widened when he remained quiet for long seconds, and she seemed about to scream at him when he said, “A few days is the maximum for first heat.”
She grunted.
He watched her eat, and she watched him warily, alternating between looks of desire and suspicion. Why suspicion, he wasn’t sure. She’d blocked him from her thoughts as well.
Vivienne moved slightly and released an unconscious moan as she ate the remainder of the scone. Her scent wafted over to him, and he knew, possibly before she did, what she needed next.
She headed to the bed and rolled over, pushing herself onto her hands and knees, and impatiently wiggled her bottom. From his vantage point, Conall could see the dew that glistened between her puffy lips, could practically feel the heat as it called to him.
I need you.
He easily divested himself of his robe and moved to her, sliding against her mind to see if he could access it. Whenever the physical aspect of heat overcame her, she lowered the mental shield she’d put up against him. She had done so once more. He could feel her need, urgent, almost cruelly so, as he mounted her. There was also frustration, anger at her frustration.
Vivienne cried out as he dipped into her tight, pulsing channel. She sighed and pushed back against him eagerly. He caught her hip, growling low as he held her steady, before he began thrusting. Head lowering, she whimpered, arms and legs trembling as sweat broke out across her skin. Conall drew a comforting hand down her back as his hips rocked against her. Heat was always physically exhausting for both male and female, but this was one part they both enjoyed.
***
“Who are you and where am I?”
Lucian held up a hand and projected calm to Drusilla. She was terrified. He could see it in her eyes, the way she bladed her body as if prepared for an attack, or preparing to attack him. She pressed against the wall, next to the large canopy bed she’d instantly evacuated when he strolled in. A tall glass vase was in her hand. Despite her fear, she presented a beautiful picture. He’d known she was pretty when he’d first seen her, but after she healed, as was common with human-to-vampire transitions, any flaws she had had disappeared, leaving perfection. Now, positioned as she was in that flowing white nightgown, with her brown eyes wide, and full lips pursed, she looked like some version of a dark angel. He resisted the urge to smile, deciding that doing so would not help him gain her trust.