Sanibel Surrender Vampire Werewolf Menage (Fanged Romance Series Book Five) by Talyn Scott

Empire, whose only mission in life is to serve vampire royalty.
    Another mind full to process, but she’d just go with it. “So the Dynasty Vampyrs are what, the pinnacle of the vampire hierarchy?”
    “Yes.”
    “So…vampires drink blood.”
    His jaw knotted. “Yes, though Dynasty Vampyrs can only feed from a certain…subclass,” he said vaguely. “However, subservient vampires, which are Species Vampires and Undead, can feed from anyone. Even so, Species Vampires prefer to feed from their Brides. If they find them, that is. But that’s another story for another day.”
    “Feed from their Brides?” She shifted in the chair, curling her legs beneath her body. “So vampires don’t kill?”
    He gave her a pained look, one that turned her blood to ice. “They’re not supposed to, at least, in this century.”
    “In this century,” Molly echoed, knowing she’d hate the answer to her next question. “H-how old are you?”
    He replied almost apologetically, “I was born early on in the fourteenth century, lass.”
    “You’re really from old Scotland?” she asked on a strangled gasp, thinking he didn’t look a day over thirty. “Castles…, lairds…knights…you lived through the Black Death?”
    “And cool summer nights where there was nothin’ better to do than stretch out on my plaid and make love to a bonny maiden atop the long grass, wishin’ I could be with my mate instead, but she wasn’t yet born.”
    Mate? “Are you married?”
    “We don’t wed in the human way.” For a second, he seemed relaxed. “However, my heart, soul, and body belong to my female. Always.”
    Heath belonged to someone, and that thought made her heart plunge. Another disappointment she couldn’t dwell on. So, yeah, opening her legs for him last night had paid in spades. “Back, uh, to those Gryphs. What were they doing?” When he looked at her, those silver eyes searching as if he were reaching inside her soul, she grew sick with fear. “T-they want me?”
    He twisted his wrist cuff a couple of times, searching for an explanation. “What I know is that you will never see a Gryph unless he wants you to see him. They don’t show themselves to humans, even mixed bloods. Why three appeared tonight…out in the open…we’re workin’ on it.”
    “Why not just ask them?” How frustrating! “Don’t you vampires communicate with one another or are you like gangs with turf wars?”
    He gaped. “Whatever gave you the idea we are vampires?”
    “Then…you kill them?” she asked hopefully. “Like a vampire hunter?”
    “Not unless I’m bored,” he quipped, going back to the kitchen for another beer. This one, he poured into a glass.
    She knew something worse was coming. “Okay, Heath, let me have it.”
    In an inhuman instant, he moved in front of her, crouching, placing the beer in her hand. “I wouldn’t worry so much about mixin’ your muddled mind with alcohol.” He kept his hand curled around hers, urging her to take a sip so she did. “You probably need somethin’ stiffer to digest the fact that you’re lookin’ at a werewolf.”
    She brought the beer back to her lips and finished it. “Okay…let me see you, Scooby .”
    He cupped her jaw, his thumb swiping foam from her lips. “It’s not like that, furry dogs and such.”
    “Then show me what it’s like.”
    Heath pulled his shirt over his head and her mouth fell open, her legs nearly did, too. Raising his hand, he traced his fingers over the crimson tattoo she'd noticed on his throat and jaw the morning she’d left Miami. “I spent the last three months or so keeping you from seeing what I'm really like. By what's left of this Druid mark, I'm still prevented to fully transform.”
    "Why, are you being punished for something?"
    Harsh laughter left him. "Punishment is what I feel, though I didn't commit a crime." He then placed his hands on her ankles and pulled them from beneath her body, spreading her legs as he positioned her feet flat