He gathered her limp body against his chest, wrapping his powerful arms around her possessively. The warmth of her against him, the scent of their coupling, the evidence of his claiming dripping down her thighs, it was everything. His eyes grew heavy, a bone-deep exhaustion washing over him. With Felicity secure in his embrace, he surrendered to sleep, falling into a darkness so profound that not even dreams could reach him.
The door creaked open. Victor entered first, his silver hair catching the dim light, his red eyes immediately finding Felicity's limp form. The others followed, Voss with his calculating gaze, Damien's brooding presence, Ivan's stoic strength, and Lucan's lithe figure sliding in last. Exile was visibly absent, still unconscious somewhere in the hallway.
"The bastard," Victor growled, his voice a dangerous rumble as he took in the scene Felicity covered in Dimitri's seed, the man himself unconscious with her in his arms.
