Vampire's Companion by Jory Strong

Terach.
    “Let me have you,” he murmured, fingers entwined with hers, holding her hands against the blanket.
    Yes! her body answered, urging her to forget about rules, to throw away a lifetime of adherence to them. She wanted to surrender control and give in to the temptation, to let him tug her bikini bottoms down and shove his cock in.
    It took everything she had to deny that primal need. “I can’t.”
    Not without the answer he’d promised her. She had to know. Had to believe she wasn’t repeating the same mistake she’d made at Fangs. That she wasn’t doing something that would make her question herself afterward, something that would keep her off the job.
    “You can,” he said, rocking his hips, promising even greater pleasure when he’d already demonstrated he was a master at delivering it.
    Her fingernails scraped over his back. She breathed him in, wanting him. But she needed to return to some semblance of normal.
    “What did you mean when you said Terach saved my life?”
    He stilled. Rigid cock mimicked by equally rigid body.
    Melded together so intimately, she could feel him will himself to relax.
    He didn’t succeed.
    His body throbbed against hers. He kissed his way to her ear, the rasp of his tongue, the dart of it so sensual she quivered.
    “Let’s come back to that question,” he said, lips capturing her lobe, sucking, sending desire streaking to her nipples and clit.
    “No.” But it required force to get the word out.
    “Yes,” he said, seizing on the weakness, fucking his tongue into her ear.
    Her channel clenched, aching and empty and needy. Her breath caught, her body’s attempt to prevent further denial of pleasure.
    She could count on one hand the number of lovers she’d had. Until Terach, and now Israel, none of them had stripped her of control or made her revel in being vulnerable.
    Just give in to this.
    And the next time I see Terach?
    “Tell me,” she begged.
    He remained silent.
    The resistance he telegraphed gave her the strength to dislodge him and sit, chest pressed to her knees and locked there by arms hugged around her legs.
    Israel’s sigh was masculine frustration, a heartfelt desire to avoid conversation. He sat, crowding into her personal space. He propped himself up with an arm behind her, close enough his body heat formed a diagonal slash across her back.
    “What will you do when my answer doesn’t fit in one of your neat little boxes?”
    She shivered, chill spreading inward. He was far too observant.
    “You already know the truth,” he said, his hand shackling her ankle.
    “No.” It was just a tangled dream, a mash of fantasy and reality and horror. She’d contacted Marina. The daytime memories matched Marina’s version of events, or at least the ones that involved her. “No.”
    “Healed,” Israel murmured. “Not enslaved.”
    Adrenaline surged into Cia. She jumped to her feet.
    Dream reality cascaded in and crowded out the other reality, only this time Rico was there.
    Trust him, Rico. I was in worse shape, closer to death than she is.
    Skye’s voice, and Rico had listened, accepted what couldn’t be.
    I’ll do it, Sire.
    She hugged herself. Swallowed, only it wasn’t saliva that filled her mouth but metallic taste. And instead of nausea swelling inside her, it was desire, a hungry need accompanied by memories of Terach above her, in her. His eyes were fathomless pools with flickering candlelight deep in their centers. And like a moth to flame she’d sought them out, lost herself in ecstasy.
    Take my blood, Cia. Agree to be my companion.
    Israel’s arms surrounded her, enfolded her in warmth. “Do you want me to say the words? Will it make what happened more real for you?”
    He grasped the medallion, knuckles pressed to her skin.
    Her pulse rapped against him in a pounding demand to close this door completely or thrust it wide open and accept what was behind it.
    Israel rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Terach told me he had no