Like a prick, a smooth slide, and then the burst of heat… Hot liquid surged from her skin, exploded from her vein. She felt him sigh and settle against her even as she froze, unable to move as he drank from her. A scream strangled in the back of her throat.
No.
She pushed at him, even as the warmth drained from her, tears filling her eyes, horror paralyzing her. Betrayal. Fear.
Not Vosswas all she could think.No.
Dimly she let herself go and prayed he wouldn’t kill her.
9
A TRUST BETRAYED
Voss hardly knew what he was doing until his incisors slid into her sweet, warm skin. And then…a burst of heat and pleasure like the shock of lightning. She flooded his mouth, filled him when he swallowed, and his body loosened.
The agony in his shoulder eased, and he could breathe again. He could almost think.
Relief. Oh, Luce, oh, God,relief.
He breathed Angelica, tasted her, touched and smelled the deepest, most intimate essence of her.
She convulsed beneath him, twitched in that way they did, and he felt the shock and horror as it shuttled through her. His eyes closed and he tasted, gulped the thick ambrosia and felt the resistance leave her. She sagged.
He trembled.
Stop.
No.
Enough.
The pain was gone, now that he’d given in, but because he’d begun, he wanted more. Not to feed…but all. He needed her, all of her. His vision still blazed red, his hands shook as theyimprinted on her skin…butsomehowhe turned his head away. Pulled free.
Somehow,somehowhe released her, stumbled back, swiping at his mouth as if he were a child.
Blood streaked the back of his hand, the smell filled his nose, and he looked at her, fighting the pull, the tempting urge that threatened to draw him back.
Their eyes met: hers dull with shock and pain.
Voss wiped his mouth again, swallowed the last bit of her that remained on his tongue. He trembled, his knees weak. But he could breathe.
Blood streamed from the four bites on her shoulder, in that delicate, soft spot just above her collarbone. It trailed in two crooked lines down into the pink bodice of her gown.
Voss struggled to clear his thoughts, but the blood—the smell—it filled his mind. Her taste, the soft, smooth flesh under his.
He turned away. The pain in his Mark had eased only slightly. He wanted more.
Silence, and then soft gasping sounds drew his attention. Her unsteady breath, not quite sobs. Holding on to the other chair, Voss turned back to see Angelica unmoving. Sitting, ravaged, her hair yanked to one side, cascading over her unwounded shoulder.
Blood, pumping from the punctures, glistening crimson and beckoning him.
He swallowed. Saliva pooled in his mouth, his cock still throbbed, filling his trousers. He closed his eyes for strength.
He had to…finish.
She reared back, flailing, when he reached for her, but he was too strong and he pulled her out of the chair, yanking her upright, ignoring her struggles.
He must.
