I trembled as my mouth closed over Kieran’s throat. His blood, the wild and woodsy taste, was surprisingly complementary to Casteel’s, and that thought drew a muffled giggle from me. Both of their hands tightened on mine. They probably thought I was losing it, but it wasn’t my mind I was failing to control.
It was my body as I drank from Kieran. The feel of his chest moving in deep, rapid breaths against my breasts. The rumbling weight of him as I drew his essence into me. The hot, hard press of Casteel at my back, his breath on my shoulder. His mouth there. His fangs were there as I drank—not piercing my skin, just there. I shuddered. My hold on my abilities slipped. The rich taste of blood, earthy and decadent, got lost in the swell of smoky spice gathering in my throat. I had no idea which one it’d come from or if it was both of them. Or mine.
The night still seemed to be listening as Casteel managed to stop me with a tug of his fangs. No cold parts remained inside me, even though I trembled as someone turned me back to Casteel once more.
Casteel dropped his forehead to mine. “You okay?” he asked, his voice ragged and breathless.
I nodded, catching the scent of Kieran’s blood on his breath.
“Need to hear you say it,” Kieran said, and he sounded just as raw as Casteel.
“Yes,” I whispered, my skin tingling with the heat of Casteel’s and Kieran’s blood, my body throbbing from the warmth of theirs. “I’m okay.”
“I’ll have to bite you twice,” Casteel said, and I remembered. My toes began to curl against the damp, cool grass. “It’ll…be intense.”
Kieran’s hand, still held around mine and against my chest, tightened.
Casteel kissed me quickly and then waited for me to give him permission as if he didn’t already have it. Eyes closed, I pressed my head back against Kieran’s chest, exposing my throat to Casteel.
For a moment, none of us moved, and the waiting was almost too much.
And then Casteel struck fast. I jerked at the pierce of his fangs, caught off guard no matter how much I expected it. Wanted it. It wasn’t something one could prepare for. The mix of all-consuming pleasure and biting pain was startling. He didn’t drink, though. His head lifted, and he bit again, sinking his fangs into the other side of my throat. My entire body arched, pressing into both of them, my eyes flying open wide as Casteel latched on to the left side of my throat.
As Kieran did the same, closing his mouth over the right side.
I cried out this time, not from pain but from the dual intensity of their mouths moving at my throat. It was too much. My arms jerked against my will, but they held my hands, keeping us joined. A riot of sensations hit me like a drenching downpour. Every part of my body tightened to almost painful points. The roar of blood in my ears abated, and the only thing I heard was them—their rough, needful sounds as they drank.
My eyes remained wide, fixed on the sky and the stars that seemed to cartwheel through the night, growing brighter and brighter.
And so did I.
The eather rose to the surface, shadow-laced silver rippling from the center of my chest and wrapping around Casteel and Kieran, forming crackling ropes of light that twisted and twined their way around our bodies.
Only their mouths, their tongues, moved at my throat, and I wasn’t sure if they could see what I did, the combining of our essences. I didn’t think they were even aware as they took and took, and the silvery cords burned brighter. There was so much heat pressed against my front and back, burning inside me, filling my throat, my chest, and pooling in my core. My hold on my abilities slipped and fell away, and what they felt joined the downpour, sweeping me up with it.
Their mouths weren’t the only things moving. I was. My hips. My body. I twisted between them, softer sounds joining their muffled ones as the tips of my breasts dragged across Casteel’s chest, and the curve of my rear against Kieran’s thighs. My feet slipped on the grass, and a rough, hard thigh wedged between mine. The change of position was startling. I felt Kieran now nestled against me, where Casteel had shockingly, wickedly touched days before. I shook at the feel of him, and the feel of the strong thigh pressed against the aching, swollen flesh between mine.
No thought guided my actions. No hint of shame. Only instinct as the cords continued to weave their way around the three of us. I rode the thigh as I squeezed their hands, tighter and tighter. Everything was too much and yet not enough. I moaned as their lips moved on the skin of my throat. Pressure curled and curled, and I clamped my thighs around the one between my legs—