Mal’s bloody fingers wrapped around her wrist.
She anticipated the tug that followed. But he hesitated. He searched Maeve’s face for any sign of second-guessing. She looked up at him, darting between his eyes. She swore they were darker.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered.
She boldly reached up and grazed her free hand across his face. Magic, icy and electric, trickled at the places where their skin met. She had longed to touch his face so tenderly. His perfect face with a jawline made for treachery.
His skin was smooth as cool stone. His cheekbones rolled sharply under. She ran her finger across the dip slowly.
Blood now soaked the sleeve of her dress.
She peeled her eyes away from his mesmerizing skin and looked up at him. “I come willingly, My Prince.”
His grip on her wrist tightened, and he pulled her close as his other arm tightened around her. She winced as his arms pressed against her bruised ribs. His nose brushed across hers, and she opened her mouth for him. Their bottom lips grazed one another as they lingered on the edge of temptation.
“Take me,” she whispered into that temptation. “Take all of me.”
And then his lips pressed into hers fully. She immediately opened her mouth wide, begging for more. His kiss was intoxicating. Reviving. Thrilling. It pulled her to the tips of her toes. His lips parted from hers only for a moment, pushing her hair away from her face.
Blood, warm and slick, slid across one cheek as his hands held her in his grip. She looked up into his eyes, his mesmerizing eyes that constantly swirled with a wicked desire.
Her fingers wrapped through his raven hair, tugging his lips back to hers. His hands moved across her chest, down her back, soaking her clothes in blood. Her skin shot to life. She gasped into his mouth as his cold fingers found their way under her blouse.
He gripped the waistband of her skirt and whirled her around to his other side. The back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. In one swift movement, he pushed her down onto the bed.
She crawled backwards, and he stalked over her, forcing her flat on the bed. His eyes were on hers as he slowly lowered himself onto her, pressing his chest into hers.
Their lips met. And her legs spread.
He pushed against her, and Maeve swelled beneath him. She pushed herself into him as heat rose between her legs.
She moved her hips across him, selfishly. But Mal responded in full. He grew hard beneath his clothes. A soft moan slipped from her as his bulge pressed against her. His hands moved to her face, spreading more blood and holding her in place as they writhed together.
He nipped at her bottom lip as he broke their kiss and pulled up from her. His hands, bloody and calm, slipped apart every button on her blouse until it fell open.
His eyes raked over her chest as a dark expression took hold. It was hungry. Predatorial. It spiked her adrenaline, and her heartbeat increased. He held his hand over her breasts, letting blood fall across her. His other hand moved to his cock, still concealed beneath his pants, and gripped what he could.
Blood dripped down her ribs and onto the bedding.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded.
She obeyed.
Mal’s sliced palm pressed against her parted lips, blood spilling over her tongue, dripping over her chin. The metallic taste of him sent icy shivers down her arms and spine.
She swallowed.
She swallowed his blood.
He pulled his hand back and watched her.
Something new settled in her own magic, strong and unyielding.
Her eyes tightened, and her lips parted. She craved more. Perhaps it was how wrong it was. How dirty and taboo.
But she knew it was because it was his. Blood was powerful to Magicals.
She looked down at her bloody body. Deep shades of crimson flickered in the dim lights.
