Fangs and Fur- Beta Read Along
All rights reserved. Copyright © 2025 by LA Magill. All distribution rights reserved for the exclusive use of Wicked Women LLC.
The witch muffled a groan at the half-siren’s implied request. She could understand the younger paranormal’s reaction to Hadrian’s flattery, even on a day of mourning, but her greed was as inexcusable as it was innate. Naddahdat was too ambitious for her own good, and to everyone’s misfortune, she had a quick mind, if not a keen one. Even at her lowest—at her loneliest—the half-siren could not stop clawing for power.
Dili hoped Hadrian knew what he was doing.
“I would bargain with you for this gift of blood, my lady, but I cannot,” Hadrian said in the same calm voice. “I am already bound by oath and honor to another, so I cannot give you my service or my favor in exchange.”
“A pity,” Naddahdat said, but that hint of a smile grew.
“It is,” Hadrian agreed. “Serving one as beautiful as she is powerful is a great pleasure.”
Dili was growing annoyed with how Hadrian pandered to Naddahdat’s ego, but it worked like magic. The half-siren’s eyes brightened, and a natural smile spread across her face. She arched one eyebrow suggestively.
“Such sweet words,” Naddahdat murmured. “On this day of mourning, I seek neither service nor favors. Stay with me awhile, and I shall permit you to feed from my veins.”
Before Dili could balk at the proposed exchange, Hadrian bowed and shook his head.
“I must disappoint you once more, my lady,” he said. “I know too well that my company will not ease the ache of grief. All I can truly give you is the temporary bliss of my blood magic.”
Rejection flashed through Naddahdat’s eyes, but was quickly replaced by intrigue. She cocked her head at the vampire.
“Temporary?” she repeated.
“Yes, my lady. As we are not bound, my blood magic will not linger after I feed,” he said.
“But while you feed…?” she asked.
“Bliss unlike anything else,” Hadrian said.
Naddahdat paused. “I have heard that the kiss of blood magic is a pleasure beyond imagination. That once I have a taste, I will yearn forevermore.”
The half-siren’s tone was light, Dili assumed out of respect for herself, but there was no mistaking the glint in the other woman’s eye.
“Only for those who are bound, my lady. You shall not crave me when I am gone,” Hadrian said.
The half-siren pursed her lips. A new tension was building between Hadrian and Naddahdat that Dili did not like at all. The younger paranormal eyed the vampire up and down again, and Dili could tell from the set of her jaw that she was going to agree before she said so.
The rest of the banter between them filtered through Dili’s ears as meaningless noise. She heard, but all she understood was the way Naddahdat’s eyes roamed Hadrian’s body. The way she subconsciously wet her lips.
Eventually, Hadrian guided the half-siren to sit. Dili’s eyes bulged as Hadrian stripped his tunic in one fluid motion and spread it over the ground so Naddahdat wouldn’t sit on the muddy ground. She fixated on how he offered Naddahdat his hand so she could lower herself gracefully, even though the half-siren could do so perfectly well without his help.
Hadrian moved to sit on Naddahdat’s left side, and she responded by sweeping her hair over her shoulder, tilting her head, and leaning up against him in obvious invitation. He chuckled without hesitation, though Dili thought she saw his eyes dart toward the half-siren’s jugular. Just for the smallest second.
“You are too generous, my lady,” he said, instead holding out his right hand.
Not the firm rejection Dili had wanted to hear, but Naddahdat smiled and laid her hand in his hand without complaint. The witch tried to remind herself that she should have been happy the half-siren was so willing.
Hadrian flipped Naddahdat’s palm in his hand so that her left wrist faced up. He flicked his eyes up to hers. His gaze was bright, but Dili was relieved to see no teasing glint in that green.
“You have never done this before, have you, my lady?” he asked.
“No. You shall be the first I allow to feed from me, Hadrian,” Naddahdat said, an eagerness in her tone.
“Do you know why they call it the ‘kiss’ of blood magic, my lady?” he asked in the same steady voice.
Naddahdat hummed and leaned closer to him. “I do not. Enlighten me.”
“Before I feed, blood magic floods my saliva with neurotransmitters designed to override your nervous system. They replace your pain with pleasure. But for them to work best, I need to activate them before I bite,” he explained.
“Perhaps I may assist in… activating you before you bite,” she said.
Naddahdat had spoken low, her voice a seductive whisper, but Dili heard it anyway. She struggled to keep her expression flat, but it grew easier when she thought she saw a flash of irritation cross Hadrian’s face.
Instead of answering, Hadrian simply bent his head down until the soft pink of his lips touched the tender skin on the inside of Naddahdat’s wrist. He licked her. A deliberate slow lick that startled the half-siren, a gasp of a giggle in her throat before she inhaled with a sensuous groan.
Hadrian pulled away for a moment, observing Naddahdat’s expression with clinical calm.
“H-Hadrian….” the half-siren sighed. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her head tilted back. Warmth flushed up her neck and across her cheeks. She raised her right hand and caressed her own lips for a moment before she breathed his name again with need.
Hadrian’s fangs sank into Naddahdat’s wrist. The bite looked gentle, though Dili had no experience to assess it and certainly did not have the impartiality to judge it. The fingers of Naddahdat’s left hand went rigid, then her whole body melted against him. She draped over his shoulder languidly with her eyes closed, panting.
Hadrian’s eyes closed, too, a content expression on his face. Dili noticed that his satisfaction did not match the euphoria of how he gulped down her potions, but the detail provided no comfort.
Envy punctured Dili’s chest, as sharp as it was brief. She was enraged by her own sensitivity. She could not fathom any world, made or unmade, real or pocketed, in which she, the First witch, the Light of the Dark, the midwife and the reaper, the maker of Mother Earth herself, was actually jealous of an annoying Bronze Age baby barely grown out her scales.
There was no way. Not. A single. Way.
The witch jerked her chin away and stared resolutely across the water, clinging to an unfixed point along the horizon as if it were an anchor. She ignored the sensuous moans and soft sucking. She pushed out every jealous thought, chased away every tight sensation, and forced herself to find comfort when she was terribly, deeply uncomfortable.
Dili missed Toad. So, so much. She wished she could bury her face into his silky-soft fur. She imagined how he would have head-butted her for such piteous moping. And more than anything, she wished she could hear his voice, scolding and praising her in the same sentence with that air of unshakeable feline confidence.
Dili jumped at the gentle touch on her shoulder. Shame flooded her cheeks as she whirled around and gasped in shock. Her eyes met Hadrian’s, so dark they could have been black with burning green around his pupils.
Hadrian looked like he had grown three sizes. His whole body had thickened in the most mouthwatering way. The breadth of his bare chest blocked out any view behind him. His shoulders perched like boulders atop a wide, sculpted torso. She didn’t think her arms could wrap around him anymore.
It was a good thing he had taken the tunic off; it would have burst. She noticed he held the belt in hands. The once loose pants now stretched taut over thick thighs and full calves.
She didn’t understand how, but his long hair shone even brighter. Fine stubble covered his strong jawline, a kiss of silver along his beautiful face. His pink lips looked softer, his skin looked smoother, his muscles looked bigger…
The feeding had polished every feature of Hadrian’s physique into perfection. The sight of him in his full glory stunned Dili, and she realized this was the first time she’d seen him at his peak. If it were not for the intense familiarity of his gaze as he held her eyes, he could have been a different man altogether from the starving vampire who had first found her.
“It’s done,” he said in a quiet voice.
Dili swallowed and nodded. “G-good.”
Hadrian reached out and took Dili’s hand. His touch startled her again. She was struggling to accept the work of art before her. That he’d cradled her to that very broad chest. That he’d pressed her close with those same large hands.
His breath caught in his throat, and Dili’s eyes snapped back up to his. She hadn’t noticed that she’d dropped her eyes to admire him again.
Consternation furrowed Hadrian’s brow for a moment, his eyes growing round with an apology Dili suddenly didn’t want to hear. Apologizing would only validate baseless insecurities.
“It is good. Truly good,” she rushed to say.
Hadrian’s frown deepened, and the look of disapproval made her squirm. She dropped her chin.
“There is nothing to say. You don’t owe me…” she trailed off weakly.
Firm fingers lifted her chin, and she looked up into smoldering eyes. He wouldn’t let her look away even as she blushed harder.
“With you, it would be better,” he said.
Next chapter on Friday, February 6.