The Bloodline War by Tracy Tappan Page B

Arc’s chest as the tight, rhythmic pulsing of her sheath sent him racing toward his own release. The muscles in his body stiffened…and then he was clutching her to him with impossible strength, a deep animal noise rumbling out of him that no human could’ve ever made. His sex pulsed inside her as he came within her body, and he hugged her even tighter.
    This part of his orgasm had been so strange to her the first few times they’d made love, this fierce, almost desperate embrace he gave her. The men she’d had sex with before had reared off her in the final throes of their ecstasy, body braced on straight arms, head craned back as they made all of their oh-this-feels-so-great noises. But not Arc. In the last intense moments of his climax, he held her to him as if he feared she might disappear back into a dream if he didn’t keep a firm grip on her. And it was…the most romantic thing ever.
    His climax spent, Arc slackened on top of her, gasping for breath, his heart hammering against her breasts. She kept her arms wrapped loosely around him while they both calmed their breathing and let their heart rates settle. His member throbbed with the occasional aftershock inside her, his fangs gradually pulling back into his upper jaw. Contentment enveloped her. In the ensuing quiet she heard the clock flap its number over, shh-flip .
    Her husband nuzzled her throat, rose up and kissed her lightly on the nose, then withdrew himself and gently covered her naked body with the afghan.
    She sighed quietly. Sweet and gorgeous . How was she supposed to resist him, really? “I’m such a pushover,” she murmured.
    “Hmm, baby?” His voice sounded drowsy. He was already flopped onto his back, his jaw loosening with sleep.
    She pushed up on an elbow and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I love you is all. Go to sleep.”
    With his eyes closed, he smiled lazily. “Love you, too, beautiful wife.”
    She swung her legs over the side of the mattress and got out of bed, towing her afghan with her as she headed into the bathroom.
    She took more time than she’d originally planned, deciding to take a quick shower to clean up the wetness between her legs. She brushed her teeth again for good measure and finally plopped down on the toilet. Out of habit, she grabbed an ovulation stick from the nearby cup. It was probably a waste of an O-stick—not that there weren’t millions around the community—seeing as she wasn’t due to ovulate for another couple of—
    What the heck ? She squinted down at the stick. Good God, there were three hash marks on it. Not just one or two as a warning of impending fertility.
    “Oh, no,” she breathed, glancing anxiously at the bathroom door. What was she going to do now? On the other side of that door lay a bonded male Vârcolac who’d take one whiff of his mate in her fertile time and instantly turn into an instinct-driven machine. His sole objective would be to impregnate her and he wouldn’t stop having sex with her until he’d achieved that end.
    She grimaced. The two times she’d gone through it to get pregnant with Lysha and then Brynt had completely worn out her vagina. Plus, her neck got really sore because Arc kept sampling her blood for the telltale taste of the pregnancy hormone. Only when he tasted that would a neuron get triggered in his brain that signaled Mission Accomplished and he’d collapse into a three-day hibernation state, and finally free her from his incessant attentions.
    Frankly, after the rough day she’d had, she wasn’t particularly psyched up for that.
    Somehow she had to get out of here. She tiptoed over to the bathroom door and lifted her robe off the hook, shrugging it on, then stepped into her slippers. She was just going to have to make a run for it and get herself into lockdown. A funny thing to call the female-only secured rooms in Roth’s mansion, considering that the suites were outfitted with every imaginable luxury, and barring herself in one of the