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  Remy’s mouth was on his shoulder, tongue soft and gentle on him. Vance reached out, growling. “Uh-uh. Biting’s mine, now.” Remy opened his mouth, and Vance dragged Remy up along his side, kissing Remy until the Cajun relaxed. “I mean it.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. That was…. God. “Biting yours,” Clay agreed. For now. He kissed Vance as a reward, tongue pushing in deep, his hand on Remy’s hip, that sweet, round ass.

  Vance kissed him hard, tongue fucking his mouth while Remy went to town moaning, humping him like crazy. Groans tearing out of him, he shifted a bit, bringing Remy around even more, letting the kid have at. His other hand pulled Vance deeper, and he let his teeth sting that sweet lower lip.

  Remy slid between them, mouth dropping to cover Vance’s cock as that tight ass rubbed his prick. Little slut. Clay did enjoy him.

  His eyes met Vance’s, silently asking if this was okay. Like it was. Who in hell knew? But it felt good, and Clay wasn’t much on denial. Vance groaned, the kiss growing toothy, sharp, his lip splitting. Okay. Yeah. Okay. Clay licked and sucked, his hips pushing right up behind Remy as if they had a mind of their own. Because his own mind wasn’t working. Just his body.

  It was just a big-assed ball of blood and pleasure, and he was feeling it, balls to bones. Clay rocked forward, pushing against Remy’s ass, cock finding that tiny hole. His mouth met Vance’s again, just going to town. God, yeah. Remy spread and pushed back, needy slut groaning and taking him, just like that. Whatever Remy was doing made Vance cry out, the sound pushing into Clay’s mouth.

  They got to rocking, all of them moving together. His hands landed on Vance’s thighs, giving him balance, and he could feel each thrust the man made into Remy’s mouth. That hot ass took him in, and Clay didn’t hold back, fucking Remy like crazy.

  Vance had one hand on Remy’s head, one wrapped around his nape, nails dragging on his skin. Remy’s ass was squeezing, Vance was biting, and both of them were making amazing fucking noises. Rocking hard, Clay let himself growl, let his teeth scrape where they wanted to, right along Vance’s throat. Jesus, he was going to explode.

  “No biting.” Vance moaned the words, the offer.

  Clay bit right down, hoping to hell Remy wasn’t doing the same thing. Then he couldn’t think, because Vance filled him, filled him right up, just made him feel like he was going to die. Again.

  Things happened in a flash—coming and sucking and drinking and screaming—it was like being caught in the sun for a second, the burn so hot you didn’t feel it. Then they all sorta collapsed, poor Remy getting squashed between him and Vance, panting and groaning.

  He stroked Vance’s shoulder, right on up to the sluggish trail of blood on Vance’s throat. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We all go, yeah, boss? Hunt down the crazy cracker. Cain’t you get to feeding him?”

  “We could buy Remy a ball gag. It would be cute.”

  Clay laughed out loud, patting Remy’s butt with his free hand. “We could. It would. He might kill us in our sleep. I’ll cook.”

  Vance rolled his eyes, grinned. “I’m not ready to die quite yet. Sorry.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I hear you, honey.” They all sorta stuck together when he moved, but Clay made it to his feet, intent on feeding his men so they could get on with what they had to do next.

  That whole talking thing just hadn’t worked out worth a shit.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ROAD TRIPS with a bloodsucker?

  Fucking challenging.

  Between trying to find a hotel that let them check in late or early and keeping Clay from nibbling on folks or Remy from growling and pulling the bat out of the trunk, Vance was considering daring the Colonel to come get his happy ass.

  Not only that, but nothing he ate was helping the gnawing hunger in his belly, and Remy was looking fucking tasty.

  He obviously needed a drink.

  Of whiskey.

  Or beer.

  Damn it.

  Remy looked at him, one black eyebrow arched.

  He glared. “What’re you looking at?”

  “You, Boo. You got a wild eye. I seen it with the boss.”

  Asshole.

  He headed out of the motel room, needing a smoke. The morning sun made him wince, made him keep to the shadows. Jesus.

  A heavy hand smacked the window as he passed. “Get your ass back in here, Vance.”

  “I don’t take fucking orders.” Still, he leaned against the window, pulled his hat down farther.

  “Honey, you’re gonna burn yourself.” He could hear the growl, the deep animal sound of Clay’s voice. “Please….”

  “Yeah….” He stumbled back, helped the last few steps by Remy, the lean little Cajun easing him in before sealing doors and windows. For all that they purported to dislike each other, Remy was good to him.

  “I got ’im, cher.”

  “Thanks, babe.” Clay was there right away, pulling at his clothes, looking him over. They staggered to the bed, Clay pulling him down, pressing his face to that long neck. Vance just growled, body convulsing as he bit down, so hungry. Needing so fucking bad it hurt.

  Clay held him there, rumbling, words coming out that made no sense. Oh. Oh, the ache started to ease as soon as the blood began to flow. Something in him was screaming, jumping up and down and pointing out that he was drinking a bloodsucker’s blood, for chrissake, and that had to be, at best, unhygienic.

  The hungry part of him squashed that screaming bit with Remy’s bat.

  Wrapping around him, Clay gave him more, head tilting back so he could get a better angle. Okay, who needed beer? The ache inside him gentled, and he found himself nuzzling and licking, the ferocity easing right on up.

  “That’s it. That’s it, babe.” Petting, Clay hummed for him, relaxed against him too. He hadn’t realized how tense Clay had been to begin with.

  “Mmm-hmm.” He caught himself rubbing, hands shaping Clay’s body. Muscled bastard.

  “Hey. Better?” Clay kissed the corner of his mouth, holding him right against that fine body.

  “Uh-huh.” He nodded, almost drunk with it, fucking giddy.

  Stupid, but true.

  “Good. Gonna drive me crazy, honey. I swear. Restless bastard.”

  “Short putt, boss.” Remy’s hand slid up his spine, a cool cloth cleaning the sweat from him. “This okay, Boo?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, man. Thanks.”

  “You’re a good ’un, Rem.” Clay patted his ass, licking the moisture off his cheek. “I owe you a big bag of beignets.”

  “Oo-eee! I could go for that, cher.”

  Vance chuckled, stealing a kiss from Clay. Remy was something. Something special.

  Short bus special.

  “Right now you could snuggle with us….” The air conditioner was on full blast, so snuggling would be okay. He almost approved. Clay went on, “I ain’t heading out again until nightfall. No more trunk.”

  Remy nodded, pressing close like he belonged there, cuddled with them. “We need a day or two, boss. Just to rest. Boo’s all sunburned.”

  “Then we stay and rest. Snack a little. Play tiddlywinks.” He could feel Clay laughing, chest rising and falling.

  “Tiddlywinks. Christ.” He snorted, blinking slow and then slower. Better than naked mayonnaise Twister, he guessed.

  REMY FELT a soft touch to his ass, and his eyes popped open at the warmth.

  Not the boss.

  “What you want, Boo?”

  “I don’t know.” The scarred-up Vance man whispered, and he thought maybe the man didn’t know what to do with himself.

  The boss was a little… weird when he was asleep.

  He was used to it—the stillness, the cold. “You want to snuggle? I be warm.”

  “I—yeah. I do. I should be trying to leave.” Vance slid over next to him.

  “Yeah, the boss is a good convincer, ain’t he?” He knew all about that. He’d been convinced from first nibble.

  “Fu
ck that, Remy. He’s… I don’t know. A force of nature. Never met anything like him.”

  “Ain’t never been nothing like him. It’s okay. You hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “What you want? Steak? Cereal? Peanut butter?”

  “Steak, I guess? I don’t know, Cajun. Nothing is right.”

  “No, but if he’s been nibbling, you need to eat.” He didn’t move, now, did he? No, he let Vance hold on to him. Vance’s hands moved over him, like he was exploring. He got it; sometimes a man needed to hold on.

  This guy’s whole world had to be all jumbled. Lord a’mercy. He’d never had a lot of convictions to stand behind, him. Remy was… well, he had some deep inclinations to larceny by genetics.

  ’Sides, he was made to be somebody’s. He doubted that not at all.

  The idea that it wasn’t the boss had never occurred to him. Not once. Least not until the last few days. Now maybe he thought he was about to get replaced, though it had been nice. This—whatever. Real nice.

  Maybe he could be theirs. Maybe.

  He looked at Vance, the scars, the lizard eyes.

  Or not.

  Remy sighed, rubbing his cheek against Vance’s shoulders. “I should make us food. Boss will want to get a move on once he’s up.”

  “Later. Later, Cajun. Stay.” That growl was a whole lot like Clay’s.

  “Okay, Boo. It’s okay. I got you.” He patted Vance’s back. Lawd. What hoodoo had Clay done?

  Vance was tense, almost vibrating. Did he— “You need me, Boo?”

  “Uh-huh. You mind? I need a little… warmth.”

  “No, Boo. No, I got you.” He was a giver, huh? Remy liked hands and mouths and all the good things when they came together. He slid one hand down over Vance’s hip, then back up. It didn’t have to be no big thing. Vance was tired, tilting on the edge of hysteria, burning up like a sick man.

  He gave a little relief, then Vance would sleep while Remy organized the next leg of their trip.

  “Ease yo’self, Boo. I got you. I got this. You need to breathe easy.” He muttered softly, singing low.

  “Nothing is easy. Just—please.”

  Remy just nodded and decided to go direct. Wasn’t no petting and lullabies gonna help. He pushed Boo over on his back, sliding down that scarred body.

  He might not be the boss, but he had a mouth, and he knew how to use it good.

  Licking a line along Vance’s fine glory trail, he moved his chin, rubbing, and Vance rose like the sun in the morning.

  Well, there you are. He chuckled softly and began to lick, lapping gently, encouraging things to get happy. He liked happy more than tense. Stuff got ornery when people were tense.

  And he wasn’t no alligator. He was a bayou baby, him.

  Good thing for Boo, or this would be uncomfortable. He would snap the man right up. Chomp. Instead, he sucked, pushing down to seal his lips as low as he could on Vance’s shaft.

  “Remy.” That hard hand landed on his head. Those scars were everywhere, even on the tender shaft.

  Poor Boo. That had to have hurt so damn bad. Remy was all about pleasure. No pain. Well, unless he needed to use his bat.

  That was pretty fucking fun. He thought he might have to try it more often.

  He chuckled, and Vance wiggled. Airflow was a great thing. “Don’t stop, huh? You’re so hot.”

  “Mmm.” Remy would never leave the man hanging. This would help Vance sleep. Lawd knew, Boo needed to sleep heavy with Clay.

  He hollowed his cheeks and drew deep, running his tongue up and down the underside.

  “Oh fuck. Remy. Cajun….”

  “Mm-hmm,” he hummed softly, buzzing around the tip.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Like that—” A groan cut off any other words, and he was damn proud of himself.

  Remy pushed a hand up under Vance’s balls, rotating the whole fuzzy mess a tiny bit. Not enough to hurt—that was Clay’s job.

  He chuckled again. Clay did like it a teeny bit rough sometimes. Remy always had to warn Clay that he didn’t break.

  Not that he thought Vance would break. No sir, not with the scars Boo wore. He was a strong son of a bitch.

  Vance had walked through hell backward and naked.

  Remy shivered, swallowing hard, giving Vance the back of his throat.

  Vance gave him a strangled cry, and then bitter salt filled his mouth. There there, Boo. Relax.

  He patted one of Vance’s hips, letting that cock slip from his mouth. Remy nuzzled a little, praising and humming. Vance melted right down into sleep.

  There. Better.

  He slipped out of the bed and padded toward the shower. He wanted him a long, hot soak. Yessir.

  Then he would make them some food. A man never knew when he was going to get to eat on the road.

  GRYPH HUNTED.

  He knew he slept, safe and locked away from the sun in his rooms, but his soul hunted, called for the little male coming for him.

  They’d never met, that much he knew. He found himself in the woods, where he normally hunted, but then he was in the swamp, which was not his usual terrain at all.

  “Where are you, sweet? Are you hiding from me?”

  His voice sounded so loud.

  Gryph had no idea where he was. None. He whistled softly and searched for a place to settle, waiting for his sweet one to answer.

  A gator rose up out of the water, and Gryph hissed at it. He’d been in New Orleans more than once, had seen his share of the big beasts.

  Those demons had nothing on him.

  “You leave him be now, you hear!”

  The gator winked away with a swirl of a tail. That voice was so Cajun it almost hurt.

  “Sweet, have you come to see me?”

  “I don’t think so…. Where you be?”

  “I’m right here.” Gryph turned in a full circle. “You have to be hiding.”

  “Am I? I’m s’posed to be dreamin’ about the boss.”

  “Why? Why not me?” Gryph knew better. This one was his.

  “I don’ know. Lawd, you sound so pretty.”

  Gryph wondered if that meant he was pretty-sounding physically or vocally. He decided to just go with it. “Thank you, sweet.”

  He felt a soft touch to his shoulder. “You sure fine, ain’t you?”

  Gryph turned, finding his little sweet right there. Nut brown and black haired, those dark eyes like shiny buttons. “And you’re as lovely as I knew you would be.”

  Oh, he had to reach out, stroke the lean belly, the gorgeous skin, and watch it ripple like a still pond that had a single stone dropped in. Why his sweet one was naked in a swamp, he had no idea.

  This was a dream, so rules were fast and loose, yes?

  “Oh.” His sweet boy leaned in, moved toward him.

  He smiled, letting his sweet see his fangs. Instead of pulling away, the dear man moaned and shifted closer.

  Someone liked a little danger, Gryph thought. Not only that, he was used to teeth, to biting.

  Gryph bent to sniff at the sweet one’s neck. Delicious. Spicy and perfect. “Mmm… I could crave you.”

  “What does that mean, Douce?” Those brown hands rested on his chest.

  “It means I want you. I want to bite you.”

  “I’m Clay’s, you know, but….”

  It was just a dream.

  “But you’re here with me now.” He stroked one cheek. “Who are you?”

  “I ain’t no one. Just a bayou baby.”

  “Oh, sweet, never think that.” He took the kiss he longed for, letting their lips linger together. He moaned, cuddling them in together.

  “Douce, you cain’t be doing this.”

  “Yet I am.”

  “It’s wicked.” His sweet one moved for him, though, snuggling in, rubbing against him.

  “I have never been accused of being easy, hmm?”

  “No? I am. Easy.” That laughter was like music.

  “Mmm. You’re beautiful. I can smell
your spice.”

  He ran one hand up along the lean side. “You’re coming to see me, hmm?”

  “I am? No, we’re…. I really don’t know what all we’re doing.”

  “I know it. I have faith.” He had no worries. This one had been made for him, and he had been made for this sweet lover.

  “Well, if you say so, Douce.”

  “I do. Kiss me again,” Gryph demanded.

  “Bossy bossy!” That laugh was pure joy, condensing on the air. Soft lips brushed his, teasing, light as butterfly wings.

  He slid one hand behind that dark head to hold them together. Gryph wanted a real kiss, one with lips and tongue and teeth.

  Those warm, soft lips opened, offering Gryph entrance.

  Yes. He nipped the pillowy lower lip, then slid his tongue inside, tasting heat and need.

  Oh, he did want to bite deep, drink from the well, so to speak. Not that waiting wasn’t amazing. Anticipation added spice to, well, spice. Gryph nibbled his way around under one well-shaped ear, then down the throat.

  A soft moan filled the air. “Oh, Douce.”

  “Mmm. I want to taste, but I know it won’t be right. I know I need to wait.”

  “Please….” Oh, that plea tugged at his balls.

  “Give me everything, then. Tilt back your head.”

  A soft moan filled the air, the tension building, and then that pointed chin raised for him.

  Satisfaction surged through him. Gryph bent to press his fangs against that sweet skin, not pushing through yet. He just wanted his new love to feel them.

  He felt the steady heartbeat, the throb, the thrum. Gryph licked at it with his tongue, closing his eyes as he felt that beat speed. Yes. This was the most intimate thing a vampire could do.

  This was deeper than any sex.

  “Remy? Remy, you sleeping?” The sound was foreign, and his lover shivered.

  The swamp shivered, started to move around them. Damn it.

  “Don’t go.”

  “I got to. I got to, Douce.”

  “Come back to me, then. Find me.” He didn’t want to lose this now that he’d almost had it.

  “Find you. I’ll do my dead-level best. I swear. Look for me.”

  “I will, sweet. I’ll look for you everywhere.” This tender morsel was his. He didn’t care who Clay was, or what he thought was his.