I stare at him, holding my injured thumb close to me. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Let me look.’
‘What!? No!’
He’s there before I can stop him, kneeling, his hands on mine uncurling my fingers. Blood pools on my palm, its coppery scent in the air. He takes in a breath. I hold mine. He puts my thumb to his lips, his mouth closing over it, and I think I’m going to black out. He licks at my blood, his tongue tingling rough, taking every last drop. No one has ever done this to me, not like this. I’ve had scratches healed, my parents’ touch gentle. But this is something else, something that tugs at my very core, need building in me. It’s unbearably intimate, my whole body responding. Kyle brings my other hand to his mouth as well, sucking at the vestiges of blood, then bites his lip, taking a single drop of his own blood on the tip of his tongue. He presses it to my cut, healing it.
‘There.’
I can’t breathe.
He moves closer still, his arms either side of me. Cool breath mists my lips. My heartbeat feels as large as the hallway, a thudding echo of noise. Forget control. I have none. He can have whatever he wants.
He smiles, his eyes a silver gleam. He says my name, the words dropping like stones into the deep pool of night. Sensation ripples from his touch, his breath cold fire on my skin. His eyes close and he inhales, breathing me in.
I gasp as his hand slides beneath the neckline of my gown, caressing me briefly. The scent of violets is overpowering. He kisses me, a quicksilver touch of the lips.
‘Perhaps we could,’ he murmurs, his lips millimetres from mine, ‘go somewhere more private. Just for a little while.’ His fingers trail up the side of my neck. I curl into his touch, every nerve-ending alive, feeling as though I might fly, or explode, screaming into the night, dissolving like sparking embers, flickering gold against the dark. Every hair stands on end, an ache deep inside me. I reach up, his hair slipping like silk through my fingers as I pull him in for a kiss.
I feel him smile, diamond-sharp teeth nipping me, his lips moving across my cheek, past my jawline to my neck. I am gone. Caution thrown to whatever wind passed by. He can do anything in this moment and I’ll let him. How would I stop him, anyway?
Somehow, we end up in my room. Whether Kyle carries me or I drag him there, I don’t know. As the door closes it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except his touch.
Kyle unfastens my dress, pushing the straps down, the soft fabric crumpled beneath us on the bed. His mouth is on my throat, his hand closing on my breast. There’s a sharp nip on my neck and I flinch. At once he pulls back, eyes wide. His fangs are dropped, and there’s a faint tinge of blood on one pale tip. My blood.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, sounding horrified. ‘I didn’t mean to?—’
I reach a hand behind his head and pull him close, kissing him. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say. Nothing does. Not in this moment. Besides, from what I’ve read, this is a normal part of vampire intimacy. But he’s still hesitating, so I flick my tongue against his lips. The response is immediate. He snarls, deep in his throat, pushing against me as he kisses me back, his tongue flickering.
My dress is down around my waist but he’s still fully dressed, which doesn’t seem at all fair. I try to reach the buttons on his shirt, but can’t get my hand in quite the right place. He lifts his head.
‘Why are you wriggling so much?’ There’s laughter in the words and I giggle.
‘Sorry,’ I whisper, ‘I was trying to undo your shirt.’
Both eyebrows go up. ‘Oh really?’ He pulls back from me, undoing his top buttons and pulling the shirt over his head in one smooth movement. Wow.
His torso is perfectly muscled, pecs and six-pack outlined by faint candlelight, a subtle gleam to his skin. Every inch of him is cool against my heated flesh, my hands tracing his back as he kisses me, stars bursting behind my eyelids. I’m drowning in sensation, my hands tracing the curve of his backside, my dress sliding further down.
‘Emelia.’ His kisses move lower and I think I might die. I lift my hips as he slides my dress away, his mouth soft on my stomach. There’s a sharp knock on my chamber door and I jump, shaken from my passion. Kyle lifts his head, his hands still.
‘My lady.’
Shit. It’s Bertrand.
‘J-just a minute,’ I call out. Kyle is already up, moving in a blur as he gets dressed, shrugging on the silver and black jacket last of all. He goes to my mirror, running a hand through his hair, tugging his collar back into shape. I lie there, desire turning sour in my mouth, my breath returning to normal, sweat cooling on my skin. Eventually I sit up, pulling my dress back on, sliding the straps over my shoulders. Then Kyle is there, his arms around me, kissing me. He bites his finger and touches it to my throat, healing the small wound he made.
There’s another knock at the door, this one harder than the last and we both jump. Shit. ‘Go in the bathroom,’ I hiss, giving him a push. He nods and is gone, the door closing with a soft click. I grab my blanket and wrap it around me, hoping I look sufficiently sleepy. I open the door a crack to see Bertrand’s worried face. Dear Bertrand. I hate lying to him.
‘Are you all right? Your mother said you came back to your room with Kyle, and I’ve been looking for him.’
I crinkle up my face. ‘Er, I did. But I’ve been here, dozing.’
Bertrand pauses. ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you, my lady.’ I feel awful. I open my door wider, so he can see in my room. He peers in over my shoulder, and I hope he thinks Kyle’s violet scent is just anti-feed. He nods. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he says. ‘Let me know if you’d like to return to the ballroom later, though.’
‘Er, thanks. Um, I might just stay in here for a while.’ I close the door and lean on it, blowing out a breath. That was too close. Kyle reappears from my bathroom.
‘I have to go,’ he says, kissing me. ‘I’m sorry.’
