Black Scar (9 page)

The rhythm
between them was magical. Marcus thrust upward with each rocking motion of her
shapely hips. Her tight, inner muscles clamped his cock in a deep, intimate
embrace. Logan moaned; her breath grew ragged, and so did his. This would take
no time at all. She leaned down, her breasts smashed against his chest. The
nipples were hard and pebbled. Logan kissed him. Her tongue swirled inside his
mouth until his head lifted off the pillow in his effort to explore deeper.

She sat upright
and cried out his name as she came. Her body shuddered and clamped him tighter,
which spurned his own release. He pumped his hips with each spurt of his cum.
His mate.
The notion was hard to
believe, but never had he climaxed like with this, with anyone, ever. Logan
took deep breaths then climbed off him. His cock quaked in response—it wanted
more.

And his cock got
it. Logan moved down and straddled his hips. Taking his still hard shaft in her
hand, she leaned down and licked the semen off the head then slid her tongue in
the slit. He growled, and leather and chains groaned in response and hampered
his movements.

“Yes, suck my
cock; take it all—please...”

He never begged,
but he did with Logan. How many pairs of lips had closed over his cock the last
few years? Too many to count. Nothing prepared him for the hot, fiery heat of
Logan’s mouth. Her hand closed around his girth. Logan squeezed and twisted his
dick at the base while she took him deeper into blistering paradise. Her sharp
teeth grazed over his pulsating veins, her cheeks hollowed for greater suction.
Marcus’s leg muscles tightened, the chains rattling in protest. Without
warning, he came in her mouth. Logan swallowed every pulsating jet of semen.
She backed away and wiped her mouth.

“You are too
tempting, Marcus. You taste salty, yet sweet. I want more.”

He moaned. “Then
do it, suck me, fuck me. Do it again.”

Logan picked up
her dress and backed up to the door. “I have to see Deegan. I’ll release you
soon.”

Marcus growled in
irritation. “Don’t leave me in this condition!” He yanked on the leather
straps.

His cock was
still hard, as pain and agony and the need for release blurred his vision. He
wanted to plunge his fangs into her neck and mark her, make her his. Bend her
over the edge of the bed and fuck her from behind. Ass or pussy—didn’t matter
to him. The darkness of the room faded, and a red sheer curtain seemingly
dropped down and covered his vision. What the
hell
?

Chapter Nine

Logan sat in
Deegan’s study waiting for his return from Brennan’s. A cup of tea, now
thoroughly cold, sat on the table. Raylene had gone to bed, leaving her alone
to wring her hands over her behavior. What possessed her to climb on top of
Marcus and ride him like a wild stallion? The Mate Bond—no other explanation.
Her behavior had been wanton and utterly shameless. The shocking thing was she
reveled in the way he filled and stretched her. Closing her eyes, she bit back
a whimper. Just reliving what they’d shared made her nipples harden. The fact
he’d been bound and chained also stoked her desire. Who knew that would appeal
to her?

Burying her head
in her hands, she tried to puzzle out her emotions. Logically, she knew Marcus
spoke the truth. There were evil beings in every corner of the Shadow World and
humankind alike. To lump him in with the beast that killed Allen wasn’t fair.
Could she get past her deep horror and distaste of his Thrope beginnings? By
his own admission, not much Thrope remained. Would she always live in fear that
Marcus would ‘go wolf’ during sex? Could she move past her doubts?

Something about him
touched her deeply, his youth perhaps? Did compassion for his ruined male
beauty and his confusion over the newness of his Vampire life-state play a
part? Maybe it was his innate intelligence, the fact that under the pain and
bewilderment beat the heart of an honorable, honest man. She had ascertained
that much about him. The lad appealed to her—very much.

Deegan walked
into the study and headed toward his bar. Pouring two fingers of Black Bush, he
held up the bottle to her in invitation. She nodded, and he poured her a glass
as well.

He handed her the
glass and took the seat opposite. Leaning back his head, he closed his eyes.

“Well? What is
it?” Her voice sounded as exasperated as she felt.

Deegan opened his
eyes, took a swig and said, “I unchained the poor bastard. As far as we can
tell from the blood tests, it isn’t The Concealment, but we are not one hundred
percent sure either. When I went into his room, he was deep in The Rapture. Were
you aware of that? You had sex with him, didn’t you?”

“A Bloodling
should not be experiencing The Rapture. It’s unheard of!”

Deegan snorted.
“He shouldn’t be experiencing the Mate Bond either, but he is. Marcus is a
conundrum on many levels, I admit.”

Oh goddess, she
never would have left him if she knew Marcus had been lost in The Rapture. She
never experienced it herself, but heard many accounts of the sensation of
floating in crimson ecstasy and losing all perception of time and place while
having sex.

“What are we to
do with him?” she whispered.

Deegan took
another drink. “I feel for the lad. He has been inundated with one shock and
upset after another since he’s been turned. I never should have turned him.
Raynor was destroyed anyway, so the reason all for naught. What a bloody
waste.”

Deegan slammed
the glass on the table.

“Where is Marcus
now?”

“I believe he
said he would go for a walk.”

Logan stood. “I’d
better go to him...”

Deegan laid his
hand on her arm.

“I think not.
Leave the lad alone for a time. Sit and have your drink. I wish to know your
intentions toward Marcus. He is so young and vulnerable, Logan. If you are
merely using him for sexual gratification—”

Her face flushed
hot in irritation. “How dare you? What business is this of yours?”

“You are one of
my oldest friends, and I am the boyo’s Formator. Sit and talk to me.”

Logan blew out an
exasperated breath and sat. “The Mate Bond. That is what is between us. It’s
why I should leave. The more I’m around him, the more I canna fight it. I canna
even consider the possibility, he is a Thrope!”

“We went over all
this the other day, Logan. If you are both feeling the pull of the Mate Bond,
then why fight it? You had sex with him, and the experience so intense the poor
lad became lost in The Rapture. How was it for you?”

Logan glanced
down into her whiskey. “I haven’t experienced anything like it before, not even
with Allen.”

“Allen was human,
love. While the sex is very good with a mated human, it is even better with one
of your own kind. Personally, I think you both would be good for each other.
Marcus needs a steady, mature hand to guide him, and you need someone young
enough to make you feel again. Also, you’re both lonely and need someone to
love. What in bloody hell is wrong with that?”

Hot tears burned
in the corner of her eyes.

“Nothing,” she
whispered.

“Then you have a
decision to make, Logan. Do you feel anything at all for the lad?”

She glanced up at
Deegan, and a tear snaked down her flushed cheek.

“Ah, love, you
don’t have to answer, I see it in your eyes. Don’t deny yourself happiness. It
is so rare, you know this.”

Logan nodded.
Everything Deegan said was entirely true. Taking a sip of the whiskey, she knew
what she had to do.

 
****

Exhaustion didn’t
even begin to describe what Marcus felt. Guilt for destroying Brennan’s room
also filled his thoughts. The man waved off his apologies, but he still felt
terrible.

Deegan had
unchained him and explained about the red haze that came over him. The Rapture.
Jesus, what the hell else would happen to him? He was relieved to hear he
probably wasn’t suffering from The Concealment. Deegan explained since his
emotions were churned up, his anger burst out in raw fury. The Bloodling stage
could exacerbate emotions. Understandable under the circumstances.

Sure. In other
words, he was a fucking mess inside and out. Marcus walked toward the beach,
his cane clicking on the cement pathway. His arm ached with a dull, throbbing
pain, but the cast was gone, thank God, even if he did smash it off in a
Hulk-like rage.

The air was warm
and sultry, but the ocean breeze had a cool chill that spoke of the promise of
autumn not far off. The tide had come in, and the waves crested on the
shoreline with a musical and soothing cadence. He could get used to living
right next to the ocean. Marcus closed his eye and inhaled. Crisp, salt air
filled his senses, but something else lingered...

Two sets of
muscular arms grabbed him from behind. A needle entered his neck, and blackness
descended.

****

The first thought
Marcus had upon awaking was, ‘what now?’ Looking about his surroundings he realized
he lay in his own room at the Thrope compound. Clothes still in a heap on the
floor, his Wii tossed in the corner. Empty beer bottles sat on a nearby table.
No one had been in to clean, apparently. Trying to sit up on the bed, he
growled in pain. His arm must have been reinjured when he’d been taken.

The door banged
open against the wall and Devlin stepped into the room. He kicked the door shut
with his boot.

“Resorting to
kidnapping again, Devlin? I thought after taking Tristan Black’s woman you had
your fill of such doings.”

His brother
crossed his arms and frowned, and his brown eyes glinted with flickers of
yellow.

“This was not a
kidnapping. Think of it as a rescue mission.”

 
“Deegan told me you wanted nothing to do with
me.”

He shrugged.
“It’s none of that blood-sucker’s business what my plans or thoughts are. So I
lied.” Devlin pushed from the wall and walked closer. “Look at what they have
done to you. You are ruined beyond all use. I suppose we can fit you with a
glass eye...”

“Oh yeah, a glass
eye would be the answer. It would make all the difference. I wouldn’t be ugly
anymore. Jesus, Devlin,” he snapped.

“Black was vague
about how you were attacked. Or by whom and why. I want answers.”

Marcus looked
away. He couldn’t tell his brother he’d been with a man at the time of his
attack. Thropes did not accept it, and he knew his brother’s feelings on the
subject.

“What does it
matter now? Besides, I took a Blood Oath. You know all about those, so don’t
bother trying to find out. I will never discuss it, especially not with you.”

Devlin flicked
off the pile of clothes on the chair and sat.

“You are Pack
Second. I chose you over your older half-brothers because I saw something in
you, Marcus.”

The raw fury that
bubbled to the surface earlier in the day began to boil again. Marcus tamped it
down.

“Yet you were
quick to offer me up as an experiment!”

Devlin tented his
fingers and crossed his legs. “You agreed. I chose you because you were the
best candidate. Perfect in every way.”

Marcus bit back a
retort. If only his brother knew.

“Not so perfect
now, am I?”

“Your injuries
and disfigurement are not genetic. You can still breed.”

This time, Marcus
did laugh out loud. That was all his brother cared about. Breeding the perfect
Thrope. Unbelievable. He did not rescue him because of any brotherly love or
regard.

“Is this why you
snatched me away in the dead of night, so I can continue breeding?”

“Yes, why not?
The first round was a success.”

Marcus’s heart
fell to the floor. “What in hell do you mean?”

“Two of the
bitches are with pup.”

Marcus cringed. He
hated that Thrope terminology. The shock of the news began to sink in. He would
be a father. His mind spun.
Just one
fucking body blow after another.
He took a deep breath then worked out the
math in his head.

“You know
already? It’s only been six or seven weeks since...”

Devlin nodded.
“That’s long enough.”

“Devlin, what if
these
children
are born Thrope and
nothing else? Has a Thrope ever got a
woman
pregnant from another species within the Shadow World?”

Marcus emphasized
the words ‘children’ and ‘woman’. Be damned if he would use the others.

“No, it was
forbidden. Only humans were deemed a suitable vessel. I am confident these pups
will be a mixture of Thrope and Vampire.”

A wave of
weariness washed over Marcus.

“Get out. Leave
me alone and let me sleep.”

Devlin stood. “I
am sorry you were injured in such a way. It is quite horrible to look at.
Perhaps you can wear a mask...”