Page 127 of The Gathering
Another knock hit the door.
Bishop scraped his canines along her skin with another vicious thrust, another shriek, another warning claim.
He lifted his head and looked at Beth, the drunk look in her gaze feeding what couldn’t be stopped. He climbed onto the desk, bracing his knees wide and locking her hips in both hands. This mating force demanded the verytop. In theopen.It wantedalleyes to see it. A demonstration, a challenge.
He drove into her and his world became the wet heat of her body, the trembling strength in her thighs, the taste of those shocked cries.
Another knock. Four hard ones.
Bishop answered back, his loud groan half growl as he pulled her into his thrusts, forcing her cries higher, her power higher. It was part of it. Wrapping around the architecture until everything blurred into something machines couldn’t define.
The bite burned at the center of him now alongside his climax.
His canines pulsed steadily as his release gathered, dragging every nerve toward the same place. His body meshed with hers as he found her throat and Beth locked her hands in his hair, body tightening around him.
“Oh God,” she sobbed. “Bishop.”
He held the crown of her head and plunged his teeth and cock together.
Their climax ripped through him, his fingers clinching in her hair. Her blood became their bond, her cries its seal. And their love its rite of passage.
In the wreckage, Beth’s whisper broke in his ear. “Morgue.”
Bishop froze.
His mouth eased from her throat, breath ragged, blood still warm on his tongue. He lifted his head.
Her eyes were dazed, wet, confused. One hand drifted to the bite, the other to her womb. “Why did I say that?”
He licked softly along the bite, clotting and numbing the punctures, then sealing it with the mate-recognition protein that wrote his name in her blood.
He kissed her lips softly at several angles before whispering, “I need to deal with Sinrik.”
Her nod and gentle kiss loosened his muscles. “I’ll go see if Cherie is here yet. I love you.”
He lifted and she pulled his mouth back to hers.
“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced,” she added.
He caught her jaw and took her mouth one last time, making it count.
“Zhuh tem ahn-kor ploo,” he whispered.”
Master Fuck-Off
Bishop spotted Sinrik stalking the hallway like a soldier interrogating air molecules.
Fuck, he was still stunned over what he’d done in that office. So that’s what had taken over Nitro when he’d had to be put down. Couldn’t imagine doing it in broad daylight on a fucking platform.
Saint Sahvrin wouldn’t allow that fuckingnonsense.
Sinrik’s gaze suddenly flew up and locked on Bishop, his legs marching him right at him. His soldier snapped online and when Bishop saw why, he wanted to punch himself in the temple. It was rubbing its balls all over that wet fantasy data gap.
“We need to talk about these coins,” Sinrik said, his urgency clearing the board between them. “This last one did something in me. I don’t know what, but I can feel it was done. I have a lot of memories I don’t have access to, things that have been done that I don’t understand, have no clue why, but Iknowthere’s a reason,” he said, hand hacking the air. “You tried to get in my head and you ran into it, it locked you out, just like it locks me out.”
“And what am I supposed to do about it?” he asked while Sinrik paced before him. “Seer was the only one allowed to see it.”
He spun to him with a sharp glare. “He did? What did he see?”
