4: Gregor Blackblood

“My wolf wants to kill my father for claiming you. I need you to quiet him down.”

Before I could even process his words, Wyvern’s lips crashed onto mine.

It was a wet and deeply hungry kiss.

It wasn't slow or possessive like Dragon's, it was desperate, wild, and completely out of control.

I gasped in shock, my hands flying to his chest to push him away, but his tongue immediately slid past my lips, tasting strongly of mint and dark smoke.

He grabbed my waist, lifting me slightly off the ground, pressing my back so hard against the wall that all the air left my lungs.

It made my head spin.

My panicked resistance quickly melted into a confusing, terrifying heat.

What the fuck I am feeling? Is this that unfamiliar feeling again! A heat! A desire!

I closed my eyes and kissed him back without even thinking.

A guttural, animalistic groan ripped from Wyvern’s throat.

His hands slid under the hem of his father's oversized shirt, his hot, calloused fingers mapping the bare curves of my hips.

He squeezed my flesh with bruising force, pulling me impossibly closer to his dangerous, hardened body.

I could feel the thick, rigid length of his m*nhood  pressing aggressively against my stomach through his denim jeans.

He broke the kiss, dragging his wet mouth down my jaw and biting sharply into the sensitive skin of my neck.

I let out a soft, breathy moan, my fingers instinctively tangling into his messy dark hair.

He ground his hips flush against mine, the heavy friction sending a wicked jolt of pleasure straight to my already sensitive, aching core.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he panted heavily against my skin, his hands moving up to cup my bare breasts underneath the shirt.

His thumbs flicked ruthlessly over my hardening p*aks, pulling a sharp gasp from my lips.

I was losing my mind.

I was betraying the King in his own hallway, submitting to his wild, chaotic son.

Click. Clack.

The sound of footsteps suddenly echoed at the far end of the dark corridor.

Wyvern swore violently, tearing his lips away from my neck.

He dropped me back to my feet, his chest heaving rapidly, his silver eyes wild with entirely unsated lust.

He grabbed my face, pressing one last, punishingly hard kiss to my bruised lips.

“That’s the seal of the deal,” Wyvern whispered fiercely. “We’re not yet done…”

He vanished down an adjoining corridor just a second before a tall, shadow-draped figure stepped into the morning light.

I was left leaning heavily against the cold wall, my chest heaving, my lips swollen and wet from Wyvern’s chaotic kiss.

My mind was a complete mess.

I scrambled away from the hallway, running blindly through the sprawling, silent mansion until I stumbled into a massive room at the end of the east wing.

It was a two-story library, filled with towering mahogany bookshelves, rolling ladders, and the heavy scent of old paper, leather, and expensive cigars.

I slammed the heavy oak doors shut behind me and leaned my back against the wood, finally letting out a long, shuddering breath.

I was safe.

 Am I? No… there’s no such safe place existing in this estate!

But I closed my eyes, trying to force my wildly beating heart to slow down.

“You are breathing exactly forty-two times a minute. Unfinished sexual desire. Given the state of your lips, I am sure you’ve been kissed by two monsters already.”

My eyes flew open.

Sitting behind a massive, polished ebony desk in the center of the room was a man reading a thick leather-bound ledger.

He was dressed in a tailored, charcoal three-piece suit, a stark contrast to Wyvern’s reckless leather and Dragon’s half-naked dominance.

He had sharp, aristocratic features, his dark hair neatly swept back, and wire-rimmed glasses resting perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

I knew him! It was him! The second of the triplets!

Gregor Blackblood.

He slowly closed the ledger and removed his glasses, setting them neatly on the desk.

His eyes were a chilling, icy blue, devoid of the feral madness of his father or the wild chaos of his brother.

They were entirely analytical.

Cold. Piercing.

He stood up, buttoning his suit jacket with fluid, precise movements.

“Come here,” he ordered.

His voice wasn't a roar.

It was a smooth, low baritone that commanded absolute, unquestionable obedience.

My legs moved before my brain could stop them.

I walked slowly across the plush Persian rug, stopping just a few feet away from his desk.

I pulled the edges of the oversized shirt tightly around my body, suddenly feeling incredibly small and entirely naked beneath his assessing gaze.

Gregor walked around the desk, stopping right in front of me.

He didn't touch me immediately.

Instead, he simply leaned in, closing his eyes as he took a slow, methodical inhale of the air surrounding me.

“Fascinating,” Gregor murmured, his icy eyes fluttering open to lock onto mine.

“I can smell the King’s desperate, heavy claim buried deep in your h*les. And layered just above it, a reckless taste of my younger brother. You have been a very busy little human since you arrived.”

“I didn't—” I started, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “I don't belong here.”

“Another young, seductive girl my father brought to kill,” Gregor stated clinically, his gaze dropping to my exposed collarbone. “But after smelling you… I scent power.”

“I don't have any power!” I cried out, frustrated tears spilling over my cheeks. “He forced me into his bed! He tore my clothes and hurt me! And then your brother pinned me to a wall and—”

“And you liked it,” Gregor interrupted, his voice dropping to a deadly, sensual whisper.

I froze.

Gregor stepped completely into my personal space.

He reached out, his cool, long fingers gently brushing away a tear from my cheek.

The touch was shockingly gentle, yet it sent a terrifying spike of heat straight to my stomach.

“My father is a monster, yes,” Gregor continued, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. “But I know his wolf. After f*cking his victim, he simply killed them, but you’re here… alive walking around while he’s sleeping calmly….”

“Stop,” I whispered, shaking my head.

“And Wyvern?” Gregor smirked slightly, a cold, calculated expression. “He offered you an escape just to make his roaring wolf calm… and I also feel it, you’re distracting our wolves with your loud m*an last night.”

My heart stopped beating!

What is he talking about?

Before I can even think for a possible answer to my own questions, he suddenly gripped my waist, lifting me effortlessly and depositing me onto the edge of his polished ebony desk.

My bare thighs parted slightly, resting on either side of his tailored suit pants.

“W-What are you doing?” I gasped, my hands instinctively gripping the edge of the wood.

“I am not letting my mad father or my rebel brother to get such thing as special as you…” Gregor murmured, stepping squarely between my spread legs.

He didn't crash his lips onto mine like Wyvern.

He didn't use terrifying brute force like Dragon.

Instead, Gregor placed his hands flat on the desk behind me, caging me in completely without letting our bodies fully touch.

“You want freedom and get back to your old life, alive?” Gregor whispered, his breath fanning my lips. “I’ll help you.”

“And what do you want?” I breathed, my heart hammering in my throat.

“Be mine. Only mine, scream under my skin,” Gregor stated simply.

His hand moved from the desk, his cool, precise fingers sliding under the hem of my shirt.

I gasped loudly as his hand glided effortlessly up my bare thigh, tracing the sensitive, shivering flesh with agonizingly slow perfection.

He wasn't rushing. He was studying me, mapping my reactions.

“But I won’t force you,” Gregor murmured, his thumb brushing dangerously close to my aching center. “I prefer a calculated, total surrender. I want you to beg for it. I want you to ask me to touch you.”

“I won't,” I choked out, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You will,”