I’m shaking so hard my teeth chatter. Tressa’s hands tighten on my face.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says. “I think it’s time for you to stop punishing yourself.”
“No.” I try to pull away from her. “No, no. Please, you have to punish me. I deserve this. I need it.”
She holds me tightly, not letting me escape. Before I can pull back again, she presses her lips to mine.
I freeze. My entire body goes rigid with shock. I don’t know what to do.
Her lips are soft and warm against mine. They taste like salt from her tears. She kisses me firmly, as if she’s trying to anchor me to this moment, to pull me out of the darkness I’ve been drowning in.
Her mouth is gentle but insistent, and I feel the heat of her breath mixing with mine. She’s so warm, so soft, so alive. Her body is pliable in my arms, and her skin is smooth where my bloody hands grip her waist.
I stay still, afraid that if I move, if I respond, this moment will shatter, and I’ll wake up alone on the cold floor.
Tressa breaks the kiss. Before I can process what just happened, she jumps to her feet and hurries into the sitting room.
I brace myself on the floor, my head hung low, and I touch my lips with my fingers. They’re tingling. I can feel the ghost of her mouth on mine. I cannot believe that she actually kissed me. That she initiated it. My heart pounds so hard it hurts.
I hear her coming back. The next thing I know, she gasps, and then warm liquid drips onto the wounds on my back.
The sensation is immediate. The burning pain eases, replaced by itching that spreads across my torn flesh.
I realize what she’s doing.
“No,” I whisper and crawl away from her, turning to look at her.
She’s holding a letter opener in one hand. Her other hand is cupped, and blood pools in her palm. She used the blade to cut herself.
The look of hurt that crosses her face when I pull away destroys me.
“Why?” she asks, her voice small. “Is it because my blood is filthy? The blood of a human?”
“No.” I crawl back toward her on my hands and knees. “No, you are perfect. I adore you. You are perfect, but please don’t hurt yourself to heal me. Please, Tressa.”
She kneels in front of me and kisses me again. This time, it’s passionate and demanding, and I feel like her breath is changing me from the inside. Heat floods through my chest and spreads to every part of my body.
She pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips.
“Please let me.”
I look at her. Her green eyes shine with tears.
“I don’t know if I can save you, Altair,” she whispers. “But please let me try.”
After a moment, I nod. I can’t speak. My throat is too tight.
She wraps her arms around my neck and lets the blood that has pooled in her hand drip down my back. She smooths her palm over my wounds. The itching intensifies, and I know the gashes are closing, the flesh knitting back together. I drop my head onto her shoulder and sigh deeply.
I am burning on the inside. It’s lust and desire, and so much adoration for her I think it might kill me. Our blood mixing makes me feel hot, almost possessed.
My cocks harden painfully, both of them swelling and straining. I pull her onto my lap and press them against her core, and I delight in the way she shudders against me.
Tressa lets out a small moan and pulls closer, clinging to me the way I’ve been clinging to her. Her body molds to mine, soft, warm and perfect, and I hold her tighter. When I raise my hips, she pushes down, meeting me halfway.
Chapter Fifteen
Tressa
