“Yours?” His brow quirks higher, along with the corner of his mouth.
I nod.
He takes a deep breath, and I wonder what he’s learning from the scents in the air because he steps to the very edge of the symbol and stares down at me with a new intensity. “Because I wish it.”
God, I want his touch. My nipples harden under the silk, and inside, my body is begging me to say yes. I hate that a part of me, however small, hears Tony’s voice in that moment.Who would want you?
But even if I were attractive, I’d expect Damien to be interested in my blood and nothing more. Granted, the first time I performed the spell, I’d presumed there might besex involved, considering it required me to be naked, but when he hadn’t tried anything then, I gathered it wasn’t his primary interest. And while he’d grabbed my ass last time, he hadn’t taken it any further, although I’d flat out asked him to stay.
“You could havetouchedme more last night, but you didn’t.”
“I may be a monster to you and your kind, but as I told you, I do not take what isn’t offered me.” He curls his lip as if the thought is distasteful to him. “Make no mistake, Eloise, what I’m asking is to touch you between your thighs where even now I can smell you’re wet for me. I want to touch those breasts I so enjoyed you holding against me. If we make this agreement, I will touch you… everywhere.”
I must be crazy to entertain this idea. I chew my lip, tempted, aching to say yes.
When he speaks again, his voice is scorched velvet. “What will it be, little bird?”
I could say no. I could renegotiate the agreement.
I don’t want to.
“Okay. You’ll investigate Gold Weaver, and, in exchange, you can touch me wherever you like, in addition to taking my blood.” I raise my chin a notch and meet his gaze. “We have a deal.”
The symbol rises off the floor, twinkling like a million sparkling stars, and then crashes, disappearing like dust on the wind. Damien steps over the now non-existent line, but he doesn’t come straight for me. He circles me, slow and deliberate. He’s making me wait, probably listening to my pulse ratchet faster as he closes in. One strong hand wraps gently around my throat, fingers cradling the back of my neck while his thumb strokes toward my chin. My lips part on a jagged breath. His eyes never leave mine, but I gulp atthe brush of his fingers untying my kimono. The sides swing open, and cool air skims across my belly and between my breasts. He sweeps the silk off my shoulders and it ripples to the floor.
Only then does his gaze trail down my body. My breath hitches at the heat in his eyes, some primal essence triggering an instinct to run. I jerk back, but his hand cradles the base of my skull. “Shhh, easy.”
His other hand settles in the small of my back and he pulls me closer. Two deep breaths and the urge to bolt morphs into something else, a hot, tingling sensation that swirls low in my abdomen. I submit with a sigh, calming in his hold.
“Good girl,” he coos. The praise sends an unexpected thrill through me. And when his lips brush mine, my heart lurches into a gallop. When he said he wanted to touch me, I hadn’t thought he meant to kiss me, but his full lips meet mine, in a breath-stealing battle of mouths and tongues. His fang nips my lip, and he swallows my cry with another kiss. He licks the spot, closing the wound, then plunges back into my mouth, the taste of him mingling with the taste of my blood. I moan at the way he strokes against my tongue, exploring the hidden depths.
This kiss is a firebrand, a catalyst. I can feel it changing me, drawing out a long-dormant need like an animal coming out of hibernation after a long winter. I turn molten and slide my hands inside his jacket, feeling the hard planes of his chest. My fingers find their way to his buttons. I’ve managed two when he pulls back, grabbing my wrists and twisting them behind my back where he pins them inside one massive hand.
It doesn’t stop me from spotting the tattoo on his chest through the open neck, a skull and crossbones patternright over his heart. I wonder if he has more. Inspecting every inch of his body for tattoos seems like a good idea at the moment, but when I tug against his grip, he holds firm.
“Easy,” he whispers again, as if I’m a skittish animal to be calmed. He strokes down the front of my throat, his fingers splaying between my breasts, my nipples tight and hard with wanting to be touched. His hold behind my back tightens, and I arch. The new position lifts my breasts and he bends his knees to lower himself, catching one in his mouth, sucking greedily until I moan. His fangs scrape either side of the hard bud, but the pain is a wicked counterpoint to the pleasure of his tongue. Just when it begins to be too much, he moves to the other side, tongue flicking, teasing, nipping at the sensitive peak.
“Damien,” I whisper. “I need... I need.” I can’t complete the thought. I want to touch him. I want to taste his skin. But I need to ease the ache between my legs. I straddle his knee, shamelessly rubbing myself against his tree-trunk-sized thigh. He releases my breast with a feral growl.
“I’ll show you what you need.” His fingers find my center and slide easily through my wet folds. I pant as he dips inside me. “Oh, you do want this.” Never breaking eye contact, he withdraws his fingers and thrusts them into his mouth, sucking them clean.
I moan at the sight, fighting against his hold on my wrists, wanting desperately to touch him, to get closer.
Mercifully, his fingers find my center again and this time they stay there, massaging with delectable pressure. I shamelessly ride his hand, my eyes widening at the jolts of energy his touch sends through me. He sinks his fingers deeper, all the time working my clit with his thumb. “Let me feel you come, little bird.”
A command issued in warm velvet.
Already I can feel the pressure build, coiling at the base of my spine. I circle my hips, climbing higher. Almost there. I tip my head back just as the pleasure crests.
That’s when he strikes. His fangs sink into my throat at the exact moment a tsunami of ecstasy washes through me. My eyes roll back in my head and my toes curl. If he wasn’t holding me up, I’m sure I’d slump to the floor. I come and keep coming. Every draw at my neck amplifies the supernova exploding inside me. It blinds me in white light.
Minutes or maybe hours pass. He stops drinking. Licks the wound closed. Gently, carefully, he balances me on my feet, releases me, and backs away.
He’s not unaffected by what transpired between us. He’s hard and his long dark lashes are low.
I reach for him, prepared to return the favor, but he dodges my touch.
“The agreement is made.” His voice is curt and gruff as a bear’s growl. At once, he breaks into shadow and is gone, leaving me standing naked in my parlor, my body still ringing from the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced.
