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That heavy warmth inside me burst outward, and I screamed. Fangs plunged into my throat, and Byron’s body bucked over me, convulsed against me, inside me. Requiem’s mouth sealed over the kiss of his fangs, and he began to feed. And it was as if every suck of his mouth brought a new orgasm.

Byron cried out above me, and his body rocked with mine. Requiem’s hand convulsed in my hair, and his hand gripped my shoulder, dug nails into me, and I felt his body jerking, rocking with us.

I screamed until my voice went hoarse, and still he fed, and still Byron stayed pinned inside me, thrusting into me. It was like being caught in an endless loop of pleasure, one movement feeding the others, until we finally collapsed into a quivering heap. Requiem’s mouth fell away from my neck. “I can drink no more.” His perfect voice was breathless, barely a whisper.

Byron collapsed on top of me like a puppet whose strings had been sliced. He lay on top of me, and I could feel his heart thudding inside his chest like a trapped thing. His breathing was ragged and sounded painful, and mine wasn’t much better.

He found his voice, hoarse, and shaking. “If I wasn’t dead already, I’d say I was having a heart attack.”

I tried to laugh and ended up coughing.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Byron said, “oh, please.” The coughing fit had tightened me around him again, and it jerked him up on his arms, pushed him one last time against me, which made me writhe under him.

He collapsed again, and begged, “No, more, please, Anita, no more. I never thought I’d say that from just one time, but give me a moment to catch my . . . breath.”

“Breath,” Requiem said with his face collapsed next to mine, “not breath, pulse. I knew you had the ardeur, but you should warn a vampire if you can do things like that.”

I found my voice, “Like what?”

He moved his head just enough so that he could look me in the eye with his face on my shoulder. “I knew you would feed from me, but I didn’t know you would bring me.”

“Bring us,” Byron said, “bring us again and again.” He was collaped across my chest and body so all I could see was his brown curls. “I usually try and keep track of things like that, but I gave up when we passed five. Or was it six?”

“Eight,” Requiem said, “or maybe more. I think if I could have kept feeding, we wouldn’t have stopped.” He closed his eyes, and a faint shiver ran through him. “I’d forgotten how many different ways the ardeur could be fed. I’d forgotten how good it could feel.”

“I don’t have anything to compare this to,” Byron said in a hoarse voice.

“You never met Belle Morte, did you?” Requiem asked.

Byron seemed to want to look at the other man when he spoke, but he gave up when raising his head was too much effort. “No, never had the pleasure.”

“It was a pleasure,” he said.

If I could have moved, and been sure I wouldn’t fall over, I’d have told everyone to get off of me, but I couldn’t move, and if I couldn’t, I knew at least Byron couldn’t, either. He’d been using more muscles than I had. But it felt odd to lay there with them draped around me and talk as if I wasn’t there. I asked him, “Why didn’t you let Belle keep you, then?”

“Have you met her?”

“In a manner of speaking, yeah.”

His blue, blue eyes, looked sad, the excited exhaustion fading in the light of memories. “Then you should know the answer. No pleasure is worth her price, and besides, I don’t like men, not even a little, and if you aren’t at least bisexual, you can’t survive at her court.”

“Why?” I asked.

“When she’s not fucking the men, she likes to watch the men fucking each other. I don’t think there was ever a waking moment at her court when someone wasn’t having sex either with her, or for her entertainment, or the entertainment of her guests.”

Byron managed to lever himself around so he could give gray eyes to the other vampire. “I like men, but you make it sound like I wouldn’t have liked it, either.”

“There is no pleasure without payment. No pleasure without some pain attached, and not the kind of pain you’ll enjoy.