“Jonah?” Claude asks, his gaze sliding off me and to the man sprawled on the chaise at my side. “May I?”
There’s a flicker of surprise on Jonah’s face, followed by a smug smile. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Claude stands and moves over to us. I don’t move, can barely think nor decipher the tangled knot of feelings in my chest. The thought of Claude biting me in public was mortifying, but the thought of him biting someoneelsein front of me makes something in my chest burn.
Viktoria pats the couch at her side and beckons to me. “Nora.”
There’s a moment when I could refuse. A moment when I could say something to Claude. He wouldn’t be happy about me interrupting, and it’d probably be a faux pas to refuse our host, but I think he would listen.
Yet instead I find myself moving to Viktoria’s side. I sit stiffly on the couch, hands in my lap, and watch as Claude leans down over the chaise that Jonah’s resting on. His fingers trail down the other man’s neck, down his chest.
Viktoria is watching intently, and so am I, even though I keep willing myself to look away. It’s obvious Claude welcomes the attention. Maybe the display should irritate me, but instead there’s a strange and sinuous heat in my stomach.
When Claude throws a leg over Jonah’s hips and sinks onto the chaise to straddle him, that heat sinks lower still. I press my knees together, heart pounding in my ears.Look away, I tell myself, but I can’t.
Claude pins Jonah’s wrist beside his head and leans down, his lips brushing the delicate skin over his pulse point. For amoment I swear I feel his eyes on me, though it’s impossible to tell for sure with curls falling over his brow. Then he bites.
Jonah sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes rolling as his head lolls back on the couch.
I have to glance away after a few moments, my face hot and my chest burning with the oddest mix of jealousy and arousal. When I turn, I find Viktoria watching me, her eyes heavily lidded, her smile small but showing a hint of fang.
“They make a pretty picture, don’t they?” she murmurs, shifting closer to me.
I squeak out something that might be an agreement, overwhelmed by her sudden nearness. My pulse pounds as she leans in, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear with one painted nail.
“Claude and I tend to have similar tastes,” she says, her eyes following the curve of my neck with a gaze so heavy, I feel it on my skin. “I can only imagine how sweet you must be.”
“Oh,” I say faintly. I’m sure she can see the movement of my throat as I swallow.
“May I…” Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips. “Try you?”
That burning in my chest slowly spreads through my limbs and belly, making me feel almost dizzy with the rush. I have an urge to glance at Claude for approval, but I can see out of the corner of my eye that he’s still thoroughly entangled with Jonah on the couch.
It’s just a bite, I tell myself, though it’s obvious that Viktoria is offering more than that. Yet if Claude didn’t feel the need to ask my permission for a bite, then why should I?
I don’t trust my voice right now, so I simply hold out my wrist and nod.
Her lips are soft against my skin. If Claude’s bite is a kiss, then hers is barely a breath, a brush of a butterfly’s wings. As she drains my vein, that usual rush of pleasure comes in to replacethe blood I’ve lost. It isn’t quite as intense as when Claude does it, but it still feels good.
I bite my lip, swooning slightly.Verygood. Especially when she puts her other arm around me to hold me against her. If I shut my eyes and pretend, it would almost be like being in Claude’s arms. Almost.
When she pulls away, and my eyes slide open, they go straight to him. Claude is staring at me, his lips tinged red and an intensity in his gaze that I haven’t seen before, sharpening his soft blue eyes into hard chips of sapphire. The emotion on his face is far more complicated than anger or jealousy, and it gives me an odd thrill to see him so obviously affected by me.
Victoria touches a bloodied fingertip to my wrist to heal the wound. Her other arm is still around me, keeping me pressed against her side. Not an unpleasant place to be, especially if it makes Claude keep looking at me with that smoldering intensity.
“I have a lovely vintage up in our room that I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” Viktoria says, her gaze sliding over to Claude. “The four of us could share it, if you’re so inclined.”
I bite my lip as I look over at Claude. His expression has shifted at the question, his long eyelashes obscuring his eyes as he looks down, and it’s impossible to read him in the low lighting. Is this something he wants? Is it somethingIwant? Surely it’s insane to be considering it. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’ve never doneanythingwith Claude, even.
But it wouldn’t technically break our contract if we weren’t touching one another, would it? For a moment I imagine it, all four of us in their bedroom. Someone else’s hands on me, someone else’s mouth on Claude, and our gazes meeting, locking, across the room. The ache that image sparks in my chest is equal parts pain and pleasure.
As Claude finally raises his gaze to meet mine, that ache deepens. Then his mouth firms, and he stands up, holding out a hand.
“No, thank you,” he says. “Not tonight. We should head home.”
I stare at his hand, and then up at his face. A glance at Viktoria tells me she’s almost as taken aback as I feel, though Jonah’s smirk tells me he anticipated this and is somehow amused.
Claude gestures at me, impatient. “Nora.”
