UnholyCravings by Suzanne Rock

her lips,
coaxing her to open. She did, and it was if heaven itself had parted its gates
for him. He slipped into her mouth and started to explore.
    Cherries, she smelled of cherries. Donar groaned as her
scent mingled with her sweet taste and invaded his senses. He felt himself
slipping deeper and deeper into the moment, his control fading a little more
with each brush of her tongue.
    He closed his eyes and cupped her breasts, palming them in
his large hands. She groaned as he squeezed and pressed, testing their weight.
They were perfect. He moved his rough palms over her nipples, delighting when
they pebbled against his skin. She moaned and wiggled a little closer, her
fingers curling deeper into the back of his head.
    “You’re not thinking of giving him all of the attention now,
are you?”
    Donar pulled away from Tara and hissed at the man in the bed
next to him.
    “Soren,” the woman said.
    Soren. The name sounded familiar. The man’s face
hardened as he looked at Donar. Something lighted his eyes—recognition? He cast
his gaze toward the mattress.
    “I’m sorry, master.” Soren’s hands trembled with fear. Yes,
it was fear. Donar could taste the man’s emotions on the air, feel them as if
they were his own.
    Master. His deahman ’s wrath changed to a purr
of approval. It recognized the monster within the man next to him on the bed
and wanted to share the woman with him.
    “You can share, if you wish.” Donar didn’t say the
statement, his deahman did, but nevertheless, Donar felt right about it.
He sensed that he had shared women with this man before. There was a bond
between them that seemed familiar, like home.
    “Share?” Tara looked from one man to the other, her eyes
wide.
    “You do not wish to taste us both?” Soren asked.
    “I-I don’t know.” She looked from one to the other.
    “We crave,” Donar said. Or rather, his deahman said
through him. With each passing second, Donar’s control was slipping. To make
matters worse, he had stopped caring. If letting his deahman take
control would get him inside this woman faster, then so be it. There was a need
burning inside of him, one that only the woman before him could satisfy.
    “You what?” She turned to face him.
    “It has been a long time since we’ve fed,” Soren said.
    “And we won’t be denied.” Some distant memory flickered
through Donar’s mind. His deahman had fed like this with Soren’s deahman before. It seemed right that they would do so again, just so long as
Soren’s darkness understood that Donar’s deahman called the shots and the woman
belonged to him.
    Donar sat up and inched closer to her on the bed. Her scent
drifted up and surrounded him. She was afraid, very afraid, but there was
something underneath the fear that called to him. It was a faint, sweet scent
that called to his deahman and drew him closer.
    She was aroused. It wouldn’t take much to make her willing.
It wouldn’t take much at all.
     
    Both men stared at her with such hunger and intensity that
it made Tara shiver. She knew that she wasn’t speaking to the men themselves.
Somehow, their inner darkness had gotten the upper hand and had taken control
of their consciousness. Maybe it was the concussions, or maybe it was that they
had been through a lot of mental and physical strain. Whatever the cause, she
needed to reverse it before something bad happened.
    Tara struggled to figure out how to give the men an
advantage over their inner darkness. Iatros magic was a counter to deahman magic, but she wasn’t strong enough to absorb the evil from both the men.
Still, if she could help at least one of them…
    Both men shifted on the bed, scattering her thoughts. All of
a sudden they surrounded her. Their hot, hard bodies pressed against her front
and back. Donar knelt behind her, while Soren inched closer to her front. Together
they pressed into her personal space, their crimson gazes hungry and primal.
    Yes. Her body responded to their close