Vampire's Companion
swung.
    Lunged.
    Swung.
    Lunged.
    Fast and furious. Uncaring about the hits he took, the deep slashes and dripping blood.
    The need to finish this became more desperate with Israel’s escalating struggle to breathe.
    Terach took a risk, driving Diarmid toward Israel, anticipating that the other vampire wouldn’t be able to resist delivering additional pain.
    An eye-blink distraction.
    Terach saw it.
    Used it.
    Leapt and thrust in a clean strike to the heart, delivering instantaneous death.
    He rode Diarmid to the floor.
    Released the dagger still embedded in the other vampire and rushed to kneel next to Israel.
    He forced Israel onto his stomach to get at the place where Diarmid had plunged his blade and hit a lung. Blood poured off Terach as a result of the weapons being spelled, though the loss was starting to slow. He used his fingers to spread Israel’s wound and held his forearm just above it so his blood filled the wound, beginning the healing process.
    Israel gasped. Fought for a second breath, then a third before shuddering, his normalized breathing bringing the room around them into focus with a whispered, “Thanks for the save.”
    The sounds of discipline and punishment had given way to the slap of flesh against flesh. To moans and whimpers, to pleas for more, deeper. Harder. Faster.
    Terach bit into his own wrist, opening it and shoving it against Israel’s lips.
    Israel grasped the offering, his hands vise-tight.
    He drank. Gorged with the hunger of a nearly starved blood slave. His cock hardened, hips lifting off the floor with the need to be touched, to have Terach’s hand on him.
    And Terach couldn’t refuse.
    He gripped Israel’s cock. Mine.
    The word pulsed through him. Deepened when beads of arousal escaped to glisten on the satiny head.
    Terach rubbed them into petal-soft skin. Fed on Israel’s low moans of pleasure as thoroughly as Israel did on blood.
    The sucking at his wrist became a fierce need to have that same mouth wrapped around his cock, taking his come.
    Driven by a need he hadn’t given into in centuries, to fuck a man’s mouth, to have a male lover, to experience this particular thrill, Terach rose to his feet, Israel following, but only onto his knees.
    Terach unsnapped, unzipped, freeing his own erection.
    Israel’s hunger changed.
    On a moan he released Terach’s wrist and took possession of Terach’s cock, sending molten ecstasy rushing upward.
    “Now.” Terach panted, shuddering when Israel complied.
    Pleasure engulfed him with the press and swirl of Israel’s tongue, with the firm grip on his testicles.
    Israel took him into the wet, heated depths of his mouth, sucking desperately, feverishly. Crowding close to Terach’s body so there was no recourse for Terach other than to tangle his fingers in long black hair, hips thrusting, trying to get deeper and managing only just enough restraint to prevent physical harm.
    Too long.
    It’d been too long.
    And before Israel had disappeared from his life altogether, he’d lusted, wanted, denied himself this.
    He pumped faster. Buttocks clamping. Hands clenching. His head going back and eyes closing, exquisite sensation coalescing in searing bliss with the hot escape of jetted semen.
    He moaned and pulled Israel more tightly against him, forcing him to swallow, denying him even breath in the totality of possession.
    Israel embraced rather than struggle. His arms wrapped around Terach’s waist, survival instinct subsumed by a slave’s need for his master.
    Slave.
    Master.
    The reality of it was enough to free Terach from vampiric euphoria.
    He pulled Israel’s face away from his groin, a shudder of renewed need going through him when his cock slid free.
    Amadeus entered the circle. He was followed by two male vampires who easily carried a wide lounger with high sides.
    They maneuvered it into position between Terach and Diarmid’s knife-impaled corpse. Amadeus said, “Several have volunteered their companions to prepare him
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