“Are you . . . Is this . . . ” I can’t seem to get the words out. “Is this real?”
A grin tugs at his lips before his mouth drops. His lips brush mine, unhurried. My body leans in, unconsciously drawn to him, and I feel the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. A soft whimper escapes me, and Maxon’s grip tightens, his arm sweeping around my waist. In one swift motion, he pulls me flush against him, our bodies pressing together as if we were made to fit this way. His kiss deepens, and I melt into it, surrendering completely to the intensity of his touch.
My mind is a haze, every thought drowned by the intoxicating taste of him. Our kiss grows more urgent, more demanding, his tongue finding mine in a rhythm that feels like it could set my very soul on fire. I can’t get enough of him—his warmth, his strength, his very presence envelops me, grounding me in a moment that feels both fragile and infinite.
How can this be real? This is him. He is here. But how?
Logic slips away, lost in the heat between us. If this is a dream, I am determined to live every second of it, to drink in every sensation before it fades. My fingers twist into the fabric of his tunic, pulling him impossibly closer, my need for him growingwith a desperation I’ve never felt before. I press myself against him, aching to erase every inch of space between us, to feel nothing but him and the fire blazing between us.
Maxon carefully eases us down onto the billowing waves of tall grass, the sensation of the soft blades tickling our skin as we continue to kiss. I gasp as he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth before trailing kisses down my neck and across my collarbone. My body is on fire, my core like liquid heat as he trails his hand up my body, cupping my breast. I lose my breath as he slips the strap of my nightgown down over my shoulder, his lips following its path, exposing my breast. My fingers thread into his hair, and I anchor him to me, as his mouth latches onto my nipple.
My back arches and I rock my hips upward, needing to feel him even closer. In desperation, I tear at his tunic, needing it gone.
“Maxon, please,” I beg.
Lifting his head, those violet eyes flicker with a heat I've missed dearly. He slides his palm down my stomach and between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine as he presses two fingers inside me. My breath rushes out and I tip my head back on a moan. Maxon pauses his movements and leans closer to my face.
“You have fangs,” he breathes.
“Huh?” I reply, confused.
His hand leaves me, but before I can protest, his mouth is on mine. He kisses me, long and deep, his tongue sliding over my teeth.
“You do have your fangs,” he says wickedly as he pulls away, the words making my stomach flip.
“Raiden said something about having to feed on the new moon. Can we? Is it possible?”
Maxon’s eyes light up. His hands slide up my thighs, bunching the thin fabric of my nightgown at my waist. Without hesitation, his mouth finds its mark, covering my most sensitive spot. A deep, primal growl escapes his throat as his tongue begins to swirl, teasing and tormenting before he draws me fully into his mouth, the sensation both electric and consuming.
“Oh . . . holy–” My mouth drops open as waves of endorphins flood my body, sending every nerve in my body on fire.
Maxon growls, the vibrations shooting through my core, as he presses his fingers inside me, curling them and rubbing along my inner walls. He sucks and thrusts in the perfect rhythm, making my head spin.
My hips jerk and words tumble from my mouth as he continues as if he were starving for me. Heat engulfs my body as my orgasm rips through me, lighting up the air around me with golden sparks.
Oh, fuck . . .
I scream, my fingers digging into the dirt beneath me as I struggle to catch my breath. Suddenly a violent searing pain radiates from my inner thigh, and a strange pulling sensation washes over me, sending my orgasm into overdrive. My entire body is shaking uncontrollably, as my back bows. I glance down, seeing Maxon’s mouth locked onto my inner thigh, his fangs sinking deep into my flesh. The sharp puncture sends a jolt through me, but it's the slow, deliberate pull of my blood that overwhelms my senses. Each drag of his lips draws my pulse in a thunderous rhythm, the sound pounding in my ears. A wave of arousal floods me, making my muscles tremble, thighs shaking beneath his grip. I can’t stop the whimper that escapes me, the heat growing unbearable as my own fangs ache, needing release.
Maxon’s violet eyes flick up, catching mine, and the raw hunger in his gaze sends my body reeling. My head grows lighter with each pull, my breath hitching as I fight to stay grounded, though I feel like I’m drifting—losing myself in him. The line between pain and pleasure blurs as his mouth lingers, drawing deeper, tasting me.
Maxon keeps drinking, each pull of my blood making my head swim. My vision blurs, and the world tilts as I try to hold onto some sense of balance. “Maxon,” I slur, barely recognizing my own voice. The sound of my pulse is deafening, pounding in my ears as if it’s trying to escape.
His mouth releases me abruptly, and I hear a violent curse burst from him, filled with tension and something close to regret. The absence of his bite leaves a strange emptiness in its place, and before I can process it, I’m being lifted, my body moving as if I weigh nothing at all. I’m cradled in his lap, my cheek pressed against the warmth of his chest, while his arms wrap around me.
His grip tightens, one hand cradling the back of my head, and I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
“Stóirín, drink from me.” He guides my head to his neck, wrapping my legs around his waist.
My mouth trails slowly over his shoulder to his neck, the smell of him making my mouth water.
“I shouldn’t have taken so much, but the damage to my body . . . ” He trails off with a sigh.
A tremor runs through my body, quick and sharp, at the regret in his voice. It isn’t his fault. My eyes flutter and the urge to taste him overrides all other senses.
My mouth clamps over the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, and my fangs slide into his skin effortlessly. Immediately,warm liquid fills my mouth, the taste of his blood coating my tongue. It’s coppery with a burst of citrus. I moan, drawing deeper, his blood and magic filling my veins.
“That’s it, Stóirín, drink,” Maxon murmurs, his hand running through my hair.
