He could swear the vampire’s expression was . . . hurt, before Mirceo masked it with a smirk. Cas coldly turned from him, allowing the females to lead him down the hallway to a chamber. Inside the luxurious room was an oversize bed and a plush divan. “On the bed, ladies. You two get started for me.”

He sat on the divan, needing to get lost in sex. But as he watched the smiling pair begin to kiss, his thoughts drifted, and instead he got lost in memories of that fateful night in Dacia. . . .

One more taste, then he’d end this. One more dip into this unfamiliar well. . . .

Yet soon raw lust overwhelmed curiosity. He slanted his mouth over the vampire’s, demanding more. Their tongues twined, their breaths gone ragged. My gods, this feels so fucking good.

Dimly, Cas realized the giggling females were closing the bedroom door behind them.

He roused, his mind struggling to come back online. Mirceo’s moan slammed him right back into this kiss.

Just one last taste . . .

Some foreign mix of emotions welled up inside Cas. Lust. Yearning. Tenderness warred with aggression.

So much godsdamned aggression. Need to control this! To control Mirceo. He overpowered his friend, pinning the vampire’s wrists above his head.

When Mirceo sucked on his tongue, Cas’s mind was sucked free of thought—until all he could do was feel every searing sensation.

His horns ached in a way they never had before. Even his fangs ached. His dark claws sharpened, and he had the impulse to sink them into Mirceo’s flesh, holding the vampire steady for his use.


Cas’s control faltered, no match for this pleasure. He loosened his grip on Mirceo’s wrists, but only to seize the vampire’s lean hips. Growling into their kiss, Cas thrust, grinding his rod against Mirceo’s.

The prince thrust his hips upward, meeting Cas. Seeming mindless, he dug his claws into Cas’s back, spurring that demonic aggression.

Kissing . . . kissing, they bucked and writhed, shoving hips, rocking cocks. Pressure built. Cas’s shaft throbbed from it. Pain. Bliss. Pain. Every one of Mirceo’s helpless moans ratcheted up the brutal intensity.

Against his lips, Mirceo rasped, “About to spill in my pants! Don’t stop!” Cas drew his head back to witness the vampire in the throes. Mirceo’s smoldering gray eyes had turned black with need. “I’ve dreamed about this, beautiful. Ride me! Use me, demon. Use me to come. Do it. Ah, gods, DO IT—”

Mirceo’s back bowed. “AHHHH!” Head thrashing, he began to ejaculate; Cas could scent it.

The vampire’s hot, creamy seed.

That scent hurled Cas over the edge. He was going to culminate with this male harder than he ever had before. Heart thundering, he tensed as if to take a blow.

His release was a detonation.

He threw back his head and roared to the ceiling. Bliss radiated throughout every inch of his body from his scalp to his curling toes. His mind turned over. His heart in his chest.

Pleasure had bested him. The hunter had been slain. . . .

Cas shook his head hard. Beat this obsession. Sex beckoned mere feet away. His females for the night had started leisurely sixty-nining.

A pair of courtesans going down on each other would normally put him in a lather to join in. But the sight did little to soothe his agitation.

Two options: I’m bisexual, or Mirceo is somehow enthralling me. In Poly, Cas had encountered males that others considered attractive and felt nothing. Yet just recalling the scent of Mirceo’s cum made his cock throb.

His head snapped around when the vampire’s voice sounded from the hallway. A nearby door opened and closed. Mirceo’s low, accented words came from the next room over.

He would be bedding two nymphs on the other side of that wall.

Will I hear him spending? Those females screaming?

Damn him! Cas refused to allow Mirceo to ruin this for him. He would join the two panting courtesans in bed, taking them so long and loud that the vampire never doubted Cas was free of him forever. . . .


My plan isn’t working out as intended.

Mirceo paced, crazed at the thought of his mate with another. With others. Yes, the demon had bedded countless females before, as had Mirceo . . .

But now he’s blooded me. Now he’s brought me back to life.

Mirceo’s own dates lay unclothed on the large bed, marveling at his behavior. He might’ve thought he would miss lush breasts and curvy bodies—he’d desired females and males equally—but now all he wanted was one very stubborn demon.

Even an immortal like Mirceo had to strain to hear sounds in the next room. These walls were thick by design. Want to see him!

The Dacians were secret observers; tonight Mirceo would return to form. Planning to test his enhanced abilities, he whispered to the nymphs, “Back in a moment.” He traced into the hall, then transformed into mist. Invisible, scentless, he flowed into Caspion’s room, merging with the wall.

The demon sat on a divan, lost in thought. He didn’t seem to register what the females were doing to each other—though their wantonness was brow-raising.

Ah, the play of emotions on Caspion’s face: lust, misery, then wrath. The demon clenched his fists and stood, staring in the direction of Mirceo’s room.

I need something to spur him into action. But what? Ah, yes . . . Withdrawing as invisibly as he’d entered, he returned to his own room. “Ladies,” he told his nymphs, “I’ll pay a fortune in gold if either of you can amuse me.” He feigned a bored yawn. “Make me laugh.” Whenever he and Caspion had gone out carousing, they’d often laughed for hours. Caspion had once drunkenly admitted, “I like your laugh, vampire. Rubs me on the inside.” If the demon heard Mirceo’s amusement now . . .