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Volterra, Italy
Winter
Lover
The third Volturi King was the largest of them, in more ways than one.
He stood the tallest, the broadest - his shoulders were wide, his hair the longest, and he stood proportional. Marcus made the most impressive figure. It was that he was often seated and quiet that others tended to overlook him in favor of his more outrageously behavior-ed brothers. A dire mistake, to any that crossed him, despite being the most forgiving of the three.
Will happily gripped at the King's large back, grinding down leisurely in his lap as the morning sun leaked through the sheer curtains of her rooms.
Marcus had stayed with her through the night, her other mates had left sometime at dawn to deal with a sudden guest that had arrived in the night. When she'd attempted to question him on it, his cock had distracted her.
Damn him, she thought through their lovemaking, shivering with pleasure as Marcus' lips descended to the base of her neck. It had been Marcus who had loved her first, before his brothers, even by mere seconds. It was his gift, seen through his eyes. He saw the thick vines of love, that of soul mates, tied to the poor girl who had been brought, dazed by Heidi along with the rest of what would have been their meal.
It was Marcus who stood, halting all those who had crept into the throne room to feast, before bloodshed could begin. Of course, some of the guard were less intelligent than others, those who had only known him to be a decrepit being.
The large vampires arms wrapped firmly around her waist, shifting their position, holding all her weight as his thrusts became deeper.
Heidi had tried to grab her. Marcus has stood with a dark intention, the stunning vampire had assumed her a singer of his, that wanted no other to claim. Her icy claws had almost caught her - they probably would have broken both of her arms in their haste, if not for the King snapping harshly at her, stopping her movement in their tracks.
The King entering the group of humans had made the others assume they too could begin to feast.
Will was close, Marcus moved with well-timed thrusts, his dark eyes bearing into hers as he whispered his love in a version of Greek that she never could have understood in this century. It was the reverent tone that gave her the hint of their contents.
His eyes had been black when he came upon her in the mass - they had been terrifying, as everyone else was.
He didn't know the language she spoke yet, so he used Italian. Several of the tourists she was kept with were gasping in horrified Spanish, German and Finnish. They only captured foreigners, never a citizen.
The King had moved faster than anyone had seen him move in centuries - blood splattered in the air from an overly zealous young Guard, he'd savagely decapitated an old man, partially ripping his neck in his enthusiasm of feasting, dark blood gushing out and landing on her ivory skirt. It had been terrible to watch. And then, her hand had been passed around, ice cold hands brushing her skin - she couldn't see who was touching her, the blur of her surroundings increasing.
She must have lost a contact lens, maybe both of them.
A hand clasped hers more firmly then, and she'd looked Aro in the eyes for the first time.
Marcus' hands tightened, and her legs trembled as their orgasms overcame both of them.
"No one will harm you." Aro had then promised, in English to the shaking human. He'd turned her away from the bloodshed, but it was too late. It was already on her pale skin, which was growing paler still in white-hot terror.
The others were slaughtered behind her - the Guard moved fast in their hunger, despite the cries of their victims.
Their mate, hearing the continuing cries, had then fainted into Marcus' arms.