His testicles tightened. His cockhead swelled. He knew he had only a second before he ejaculated for the first time in centuries. Two choices. Rip down his pants-or raise his wetted fingers from her sex to his lips.

The latter won. As he sucked her cream from his fingers, he groaned around them, beginning to spill into her hand.

Bettina had been lost in this experience, awash in every unfamiliar sensation and sound.

Cas's increasingly desperate groans. The heat of his skin as it slickened with sweat. His measured thrusts giving way to frenzy, until he was grinding against her fist.

Then something spurted over her hand. Hot. Liquid. Her eyes flashed open.

Semen?

Cas gave a deep bellow, his mighty body jerking as jet after jet of his seed erupted. How was this possible?

Could I have wrung this from him? Her brief flare of happiness was doused by confusion. No, he couldn't produce it, not until he'd had sex with his mate. Certainly not outside of her.

Had he already found his female and broken that seal, only to be untrue to his fated one? Had he lied to Bettina?

Once he'd emptied himself, once the violent shudders had subsided, he collapsed atop her with a satisfied grunt, nuzzling her neck. When she tugged her moist hand from his pants, he reached for his ripped shirt, using the tail to wipe away his come before tossing the garment away.

Which she supposed was considerate?

Then his fingers returned between her legs. She gasped when his thumb circled her clitoris, his other fingers teasing her opening. When she felt his erection already growing against her hip, that smoldering desire mounted even stronger than before, momentarily erasing all misgivings.

She'd gone her entire life without this kind of pleasure; why did it feel so critical to her now? Her body relaxed, her legs helplessly spreading for more of his caresses.

"Ah, my wanton little sorceress"-his heated words fanned over her ear, making her ni**les pucker against his damp chest-"you are a treasure." Still lazily petting her, he began to kiss down her body, grazing his lips over her collarbone, then between her br**sts. "Now let me attend to you."

Even as she trembled with delight, she wondered why Cas's voice sounded so raspy. Just from his arousal? And was he talking about licking her down there? The idea excited Bettina-but why wouldn't he claim her? "Don't you want to make love to me now?"

Finish line . . . so close.

"Soon. But I've had a sample of your taste, dragă mea, maddening me. First I feast. . . ."

That did not sound like Cas-

But his warm breaths over her navel felt so good, made her shake with eagerness. "C-Cas?"

The male tensed, cursing in a language she'd never heard. "What did you say?" He rose up above her and pinched her chin hard.

She began to sober up as panic raced through her. "You're not Caspion!" she cried, shoving at his chest.

Red flags had arisen before, but she'd been a slave to her senses, to the pleasure radiating outward from his every kiss, his every stroke. She'd assured herself that his voice was desire-roughened or that she was simply drunk.

"Caspion?" he grated. "So that is the way of it? You believed I was another when you gave yourself so freely!" He captured her wrists in one fist.

"Release me!" she ordered as she fought to get free. "Who are you?" She couldn't see, but she could feel tension rolling off him, could hear the rage in his voice. Violence would follow.

Just like before.

Confusion rocked her, that familiar terror arising. She'd learned all too well how vulnerable her body was to attack!

Why does this keep happening to me? Tears welled. She whispered, "N-not again." But he wasn't listening.

Between gritted teeth, he said, "I am Prince Trehan Cristian Daciano. And you are my woman." Pinning her arms above her head, he vowed, "After tonight, little Bride, you will never mistake me for another again. . . ."

Raw instinct burned inside Trehan, aggression overwhelming him. The need to mark his mate grew irresistible, not necessarily for blood but for dominion.

For possession. She's mine.

Biting simply wasn't done-but his control faltered. Goaded over the edge by jealousy, he knew he would answer the call.

She wants another. My female craves another male in her bed.

"Bride? V-vampire?" she cried, fighting his hold on her wrists. "Wait, wait!"

He spied her pulse fluttering in her neck. His fangs sharpened to tap that spot-never had they been beyond his control, never had they throbbed to pierce flesh. No vampire could resist this temptation.

But a Dacian would be expected to.

Compared to his hunger, that thought was too dim to be heeded. He leaned down, parting his lips to lick her neck, instinctively preparing her for his bite. Just below her collar, soft, pink skin beckoned him. "I feel your pulse against my tongue. Ah, your flesh . . . it tastes so sweet."

If her skin tasted like this, her blood would be like heaven. Hot, rich, heaven sliding down his throat.

Over. His restraint gone-

"Don't bite me!" she pleaded. "Don't hurt me!"

Hurt her? "I don't want to hurt you . . . I can't stop this."

"P-please don't."

You're going to f**king bite her? Like some savage vampire? You're a godsdamned Dacian! "If you've any defenses, sorceress . . . use them . . . against me now! Stop me."

He heard a sob, felt moisture on her face. Tears? She was crying?