Page 92 of Dark Voyage Matters of the Mind

"I want you inside me. No more teasing and no condom."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

His wicked grin was the only warning she got before he slammed into her.

She'd been more than ready for him. "You feel so good."

"It's just the beginning, my precious."

His precious, not his love.

Would she have to pry the words out of his mouth?

Frankie made a feeble attempt to tug her wrists free from the hold of his phantom hands, but as he started moving inside of her and a phantom tongue started circling the most sensitive spot on her body, the fight left her, and she surrendered to the coil winding tightly inside of her.

"Dagor," she mewled as the stimulation became too much.

The overload prevented the coil from springing free, winding it impossibly tighter instead.

Suddenly, the hold on her ankles was gone, and as she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his torso, the angle changed, and as his thrusts became more frenzied, the hold on her wrists was gone along with the tongue.

Likely, he was unable to keep his concentration and had been forced to let go of the phantom extensions of himself, which was good because Frankie couldn't have survived another minute of the overstimulation.

Digging her fingers into his nape, she was dimly aware that her nails were probably drawing blood, but as his shaft swelled impossibly large inside of her, all coherent thought fled her mind.

When he surged into her one last time, and the tightly wound coil inside of her was sprung, his hand clamped on the back of her head and he tilted it sideways.

Erupting, Dagor hissed, and the next moment, his fangs sliced into the soft skin of her neck. The pain registered almost as an out-of-body sensation, and then it was gone, and a venom-induced climax rocked her body.

The aftershocks continued until the euphoria stole her bodily sensations and she soared to the clouds, but not before she heard him say those most important three words.

"I love you."

Kian

Kian watched his people swaying on the dance floor, enjoying the happy expressions on the dancers' faces. This late, most of the couples had retired to the tables, and the ones left were predominantly the clan ladies. They were dancing with each other, some trying to talk over the music, others singing along. Occasionally, a peal of laughter could be heard over the noise.

He wondered why females seemed to enjoy dancing more than males. Were they less reserved because of differences in upbringing?

Or maybe it was innate? Perhaps their perception of rhythm and their ability to move in sync with music was better?

"What are you frowning about now?" Amanda asked. "Be joyful, brother of mine. You finally got to marry me off."

He smiled at her. "I am joyful. I was just wondering why the dance floor is full of single ladies but markedly less single gentlemen."

Amanda snorted. "That's obvious. Females dance for the joy of it, but males dance only to impress females, and since all of these ladies are their cousins, they have no incentive to get out there and perform for them."

His sister was beyond merely tipsy, but that didn't invalidate her observation.

"That's more or less what I was thinking. Females are naturally happier than males provided that they are safe, and I hate that so many are not."

Dalhu nodded. "I'm glad that our daughters will be immortal and able to deal with human male scum. I just wish that they could do the same with our own kind."

Dalhu's comment was a chilling reminder that the Brotherhood was still out there and that most of those Doomers would do incomprehensibly evil things to their daughters if given the chance.

The relative quiet the clan had enjoyed in recent months could have been intentional, a tactic to lull them into a false sense of security.