With no warning at all she was tackled from behind, pushed face-first into the wall and held in place by a rock-hard body twice the size of her own. Her gasp was first one of shock, then one of sex as she felt V grind into her ass.

"I tried to tell you no," he growled as his hand buried itself in her hair and locked on, pulling her head back. As she cried out she ran wet between her legs. "Tried to be nice."

"Oh… God-"

"Praying's not going to help. Too late for that, Jane." There was regret in his voice-as well as erotic inevitability. "I gave you a chance to have it on your terms. Now we'll do this on mine."

She wanted this, She wanted him. "Please-"

"Shh." He cranked her head to the side with a twist of his wrist, exposing her throat. "When I want you to beg, I'll tell you." His tongue was warm and wet as it rode up her neck. "Now ask me what I'm going to do to you."

She opened her mouth, but could only pant.

He tightened the hold on her hair. "Ask me. Say, 'what are you going to do to me?' "

She swallowed. "What… what are you going to do to me?"

He wheeled her to one side, all the while keeping his hips tight to her ass. "You see that sink, Jane?"

"Yes…" Holy shit, she was going to orgasm-

"I'm going to bend you over that sink and make you hold on to the sides. Then I'm going to pull your pants off."

Oh, Jesus…

"Ask me what's next, Jane." He licked up her throat again, then clamped what she knew was a fang onto her earlobe. There was a delicious lick of pain, followed by another rush of heat between her legs.

"What's… next?" she breathed.

"I'm going to get on my knees." His head went down and he nipped her collarbone. "Say to me now, 'And then what, V.' "

She nearly sobbed, so aroused her legs started to fail her. "And then what?"

He tugged on her hair. "You forgot the last part."

What was the last part-what was the last… "V."

"No, you start over. From the beginning." He pushed his arousal into her, a hard ridge that clearly wanted in her now. "Start over, and do it right this time."

From out of nowhere an orgasm came bearing down on her, the momentum carried forward by the rasp of his voice in her-

"Oh, no, you don't." He backed off from her body. "You don't come now. When I say you can, you will. Not before."

Disoriented and aching, she sagged as the need to release receded.

"Now say the words I want to hear."

What were they? "And then what… V?"

"I'm going to get on my knees, run my hands up the backs of your thighs, and spread you open for my tongue."

That orgasm rushed back at her, making her legs tremble.

"No," he said in a growl. "Not now. And only when I say."

He maneuvered her to the sink and did exactly what he'd told her he would. He bent her over, planted her hands on either side of the basin, and commanded, "Hold on."

She tightened her hands up good and hard.

He used both his palms on her, running them up under her shirt, cupping her breasts. Then they were down over her stomach and around to her hips.

He yanked her pants down with one sharp pull. "Oh… fuck. This is what I want." His leather-clad hand gripped her ass and massaged it. "Lift this leg."

She did, and her yoga sweats disappeared off her foot. Her thighs were pushed apart and… yes, his hands, one gloved, one not, coasted upward. Her core was running hot and needy as she felt herself bared to him.

"Jane…" he whispered reverently.

There was no prelude, no easing into what he did to her. It was his mouth. Her core. Two sets of lips meeting. His fingers dug into her cheeks and kept her in place as he went to work, and she totally lost track of what was his tongue or his goateed chin or his mouth. She could feel herself being penetrated between lapping drags, hear the sounds of flesh on flesh, knew the mastery he had over her.

"Come for me," he demanded against her core. "Right now."

The orgasm arrived in a devastating blast that had her bucking against the sink until one of her hands slipped off. She was saved from falling only because V's arm shot out and gave her something to grab onto.

His mouth released her, and he kissed both her cheeks, then slid his palm up her spine as she drooped onto her arms. "I'm going to come inside you now."

The sound of his pajamas being wrenched down was louder than her breath, and the first brush of his erection against the top of her hips nearly made her lose it all over again.

"I want this," he said in a guttural voice. "God… I want this."

He entered in a single hard thrust that brought his hips right to her backside, and though she was the one absorbing the tremendous girth of him, he was the one who cried out. With no pause whatsoever, he started to pump in her, leveraging her at the hips, moving her forward and back to meet his thrusts. With her mouth open, her eyes open, her ears eating up the delicious sounds of the sex, she braced herself against the sink and another orgasm rolled her over. As she came again, her hair was flopping into her face, her head bobbing, their bodies smacking against each other.

It was like nothing she'd ever known. It was sex to the millionth power.

And then she felt his gloved palm grip her shoulder. As he pulled her upright, he kept riding her hard, in and out, in and out. His hand moved up her throat, locked onto her chin, and tilted her head back.

"Mine," he growled, pounding into her.

And then he bit her.

Chapter Twenty-four

When John woke up, the first thought that went through his mind was that he wanted a hot-fudge sundae with bacon bits on top. Which was just nasty, really.

Except, damn… chocolate and bacon would be heaven right about now.

He opened his eyes and was relieved to be staring at the familiar ceiling of the room he slept in, but he was confused as to what had happened. It was something traumatic. Something momentous. But what?

He lifted his hand up to rub his eyes… and stopped breathing.

The thing that was attached to his arm was huge. A giant's palm.

He raised his head and looked down his body or… someone's body. Had he been a head donor sometime during the day? 'Cause sure as hell his brain hadn't been plugged into the likes of this before.

The transition.

"How you feel, John?"

He glanced toward Wrath's voice. The king and Beth were by the bed, looking utterly exhausted.

He had to concentrate to make his hands form the words, Did I make it through?

"Yeah. Yeah, son, you did." Wrath cleared his throat, and Beth stroked his tattooed forearm as if she knew he was struggling with emotion. "Congratulations."

John blinked quick, his chest constricting. Am I still… me?

"Yes. Always."

"Shall I go?" a female voice said.

John turned his head. Layla was standing in a dim corner, her perfectly beautiful face and her perfectly beautiful body in the shadows.

Instant. Hard-on.

Like someone injected steel into his cock.

He fumbled to make sure he was covered up, and thanked God when there was a blanket already over him. As he settled back on the pillow, Wrath was talking, but John's sole focus was throb between his legs… and the female across the room.

"It would be my pleasure to stay," Layla said with a deep bow.

Staying was good, John thought. Her staying was…

Wait, the hell it was good. He wasn't going to have sex with her, for God's sake.

She stepped forward, into the pool of illumination thrown by the lamp on the bedside table. Her skin was white as moonlight, smooth as a satin sheet. It would be soft, too… under his hands, under his mouth… under his body. Abruptly John's upper jaw tingled on both sides, right in front, then something protruded into his mouth. A quick stroke of his tongue and he felt the sharp points of his fangs.