Till Abandon by Avril Ashton

Voltaire lifted her legs, wrapping them around his hips and raking her nails down his back.
    Fingers wound around her hair, pulling tight, Blake tore his mouth away and stared down at her as he thrust with his hips, in and out.
    "I love you. Always mine, Voltaire. Always."
    His hips punctuated the words, pistoning cock hitting her motherfucking hot-spot again and again. She locked her ankles at the top of his taut ass and threw her hips back at him.
    "And you're mine, Blake. Always,” she reminded him.
    He removed his right hand from her hair, sought and found her left palm, and linked their fingers. “Always."
    The word rumbled as he drew back and thrust in, hard, deep into her cunt. Her sheath quivered round him, contracting wildly.
    Sharp objects on the ground dug into her back, but she ignored the discomfort as she rocked onto him, doing her best to climb his limber ass. She palmed his buttocks, pulling him even deeper into her core. His pelvis rubbed her clit, setting fire racing through her veins.
    "Voltaire.” Blake's thrusts increased, he tightened his hold on her.
    Voltaire shuddered, mouth falling open as the first waves of orgasm crashed over her.
    "Yes, give it to me.” Her voice shook, tits bounced as he thrust harder and harder. Her pussy sucked in his cock. “Fill me up, Blake."
    And he did.
    Head thrown back, veins bulging, he howled out his release as he poured his seed into her. Voltaire rolled her hips and clutched his waist. He lowered himself on his elbows, mouth capturing hers in a slow, wet kiss. She kept rolling her hips and he kept thrusting while their bodies quivered and shook from the aftershocks.
    Blake smoothed his hand over her hair as he dropped kisses on her jaw and licked sweat off her neck. “Love you."
    "Love you, too.” She nipped at the fingers he used to trace over her lips and he smiled, pulling away, then coming back. To tease and touch.
    He brushed his lips over hers, then froze. A painful sound tore from his lips, coming from deep within. Voltaire stared, wide-eyed, as dark liquid dripped from his nose and eyes and fell on her cheek and chest.
    Warm, copper smell.
    Blood.
    "Blake? Blake, what's wrong?” She tried reaching his mind but found only a black wall of pain. “Blake!"
    "Blake's not home right now.” A figure stepped out of the shadows behind a tree to Voltaire's right.
    Oh, my God. The familiar voice roused Voltaire and she lashed out with her magic but it fizzled to nothing. Her last thought, as she sank into darkness, was that she had never seen this betrayal coming.
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Chapter Eleven
    * * * *
    A fist to her face knocked Voltaire out of the dark void she'd been drowning in. Red-hot pain flashed through her body and she came alive, fighting, kicking—at least in her mind. Through the dark spots in her vision, she noticed she sat on the cold, concrete floor of a dank room, hands clasped in her lap, body heavy, lead-like.
    Immobile.
    Blake sat about a foot in front of her, green eyes wide, the whites turned pink. He stared off into space, a vacant look on his face. Dried blood formed a caked trail at the corners of his eyes and nose.
    Voltaire whimpered, her heart in her throat, beating a rhythm of furious fear.
    Shifter, wake up. Look at me.
    "Sorry. Unfortunately, he can't.” The male standing to her left stepped into her line of vision.
    Pain lanced her jaw, so she spoke through the PSC link.
    Ken, what are you doing?
    The killer was Ken? How fucked up was that, and why hadn't she known, suspected? The man she'd been so intimate with wanted to kill her mate...and do what with her?
    Ken met her disgusted gaze with wild, dark eyes. “You never suspected because you don't give me credit. Never have.” His jaw ticked and he removed a hand from behind his back. A curved knife gleamed as he turned, walked over to Blake and pressed the blade to his throat. Blake didn't even flinch. Her man wasn't present—Ken had taken control of his