“Cupcakes?” I try again, my voice weaker this time, my heart racing.
Dangerous territory.
“You,” he says, pulling back. His scent mingles with the decadence before me.
The disappointment that follows is almost sickening. I either need to get laid or see a mind healer. Most likely both.
His gaze lingers on my wrist, the one that bears his brand. The proof of his mark on me. I don’t pull away; I know exactly what he wants.
For a moment I’d forgotten he was here, because of the bargain. Because of my blood.
“The way you see everything in the world as black or white is just plain sad,” he murmurs, an actor’s voice cracked with real tenderness.
“Right,” he sighs. “I’m going to bite you now.”
His gaze pins me in place, scarlet fire burning from the depths of his eyes, drawing me in whether I want it to or not. He’s not kidding.
The thick lashes only make the rich, molten red more vivid, flecked with darker sparks that seem alive, shifting as he moves. I can’t look away. I want to memorise every flicker, every shadow, every pulse of colour.
“I won’t take more than you can give me,” he promises, but even as he says it, the weight of his eyes presses into me, and I already know that I won’t protest either way…
Almost as if on instinct I extend my arm. His mark is glowing.
White teeth sink into my wrists, piercing my skin and I almost moan. I can’t help it, my head falls back exposing my throat. Eyes closed, I relish this.
Pain flares, sharp and insistent, a warmth hums beneath the sting. A small drop of blood leaks from the wound, and he sucks, his cheeks hollowing and expanding, drawing me into his mouth. My essence. I can feel it, the weight of my heavy magic seeping out of me.
And the only thought on my mind that manages to survive the haze?
The thought of his lips between my thighs. The desire is so strong that my legs shake.
Gods, I’m hopeless.
My usually barely visible veins light up as a sign that my Arken power fights the drain, wanting to stay with its owner.
It loses the battle, and as soon as it lights up, it goes out.
With each drop of blood, with each surge of magic, something settles within me, taming the storm inside me.
Gods therelief.
I inhale deeply, enjoying the first peaceful breath since that cursed power awakened inside me.
“Thank you,” he stops, placing a feather-light kiss on the wound, changing the throbbing into a tingling, and I don’t have it in me to contain another moan that slips from my stupid lips.
What the fuck. Get a grip, you melted candle.
Afterthat- whatever it was - I try to focus on the amazing baked goods in front of me, but the sweets lose their magic. Especially since he leaves me to enjoy them alone. And I’m sulking? I’m mortified at how lame I am.
I sip the mead, its bittersweet taste familiar. The brand is unmistakable by smell—Mommy dearest used to bring it for Trisha and me when she still came around, when she still cared.
Then she decided that being a mother was too inconvenient and left us in Gram’s care. She didn’t even bother to reach out after what happened.
“Fuck her,” I groan, letting the curse slip in the safety of being alone.
I’ll enjoy my favourite mead without sentiment.
Only the top two percent of Fae can afford it. It’s so expensive that even my second cousin couldn’t have more than one in fifty years.
