Amelia eased the strap-on inside her and didn’t take her time getting used to the feel. She pushed it deep and started to thrust. Bryon reached up and squeezed her breasts. They were on fire at her touch.

She leaned over and kissed Byron, sucking her lip and teasing her fangs with her tongue.

“You feel so good, mia cara,” Byron moaned.

The muffled voices were getting louder in her head and seemed to increase with every thrust she took. Amelia’s heart hammered like it was going to explode.

“I need to come,” Amelia said in a desperate voice. She sat up and leaned against Byron’s legs.

“I love you,” Byron said.

“I love you.” She held out her wrist to Byron and said, “Feed from me when I come.”

Byron nodded and took her hand, peppering it with kisses, then scratching her wrist with her teeth.

Amelia closed her eyes, and her head fell backward. Her hips had settled into a slow, deep rhythm, and with each thrust the voices in her head got louder. Her head was starting to swim, her body to shake, as her orgasm approached.

It was going to be too powerful, too much, but she couldn’t stop, not any more. Her hips sped up, and she moaned deeply, almost as if in pain. All the need and desperate want was ready to explode in her.

Just before she fell over the edge, Amelia told Byron, “Bite me, bite me now.”

Amelia’s hips started to jerk as a searing heat surged from her sex and speared all over her body. Her vision went white, and she heard a high-pitched whistle in her ears. Suddenly all the energy she had disappeared, and she fell forward onto Byron. Her body started to shake, and Byron wrapped her arms around her.

“It’s all right. I’m here, you’re safe.”

Amelia opened her eyes, and she heard a clear voice in her head say, Welcome, Amelia. We’ve been waiting for you.

* * *

Alexis lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. She never slept much as it was, but after today, she was never going to sleep. She had come so close to telling Katie the truth of how she felt about her. Katie had this knack of looking in her eyes and finding the truth, but verbalizing it was different.

Things just seemed to get more complicated every day. She had finally had a phone call from her informant in Paris, and it was not what she had expected to find. Victorija had become a recluse and her Duca, Drasas, appeared to be the figurehead for the Dreds since their encounter in Scotland.