I’m addicted to her touch. I’ve never particularly liked anyone touching me before, even when I was human. But Ember, I never want our flesh to part.
My fangs dip into my wrist, and I bring it to her mouth.
“Drink,” I tell her.
She looks maybe slightly skeptical, but doesn’t question me as I bring my wrist to her mouth. My cock jerks inside of her when she does, and she moans as she swallows it down.
When I think she’s had enough, I pull my wrist away; the skin knitting back together immediately.
“So, how long is that going to go on for?” she asks, looking down at where we’re connected.
I give her a wide grin as I play with her hair. She smells so goddamn good I want to rub myself against her and carry her scent.
“Oh, sunshine. One of the many perks of being mated to a vampire? As long as I have a steady stream of blood, everything is more than operational.”
She licks her lips and grabs the back of my neck.
“Thank Hecate,” she says as she crashes her lips against mine.
I’ve lost track of time. I have not a clue what time it is or how many times I came or made Ember fall apart over the course of how many hours it’s been. All I know is these have been the best hours of my life.
I haven’t slept, and I only consider it now as Ember sleeps next to me. Her lips part as she breathes, a slight snore escaping her lips. She’s fucking precious, insatiable, and completely mine.
She doesn’t stir as I stand from the bed, hunting down my pants to find my phone. It’s two in the afternoon and I laugh at the absurdity.
I don’t even feel tired and I assume it has to do with drinking her blood. I’ve never felt stronger, more alive.
I’ve never felt this happy. Nothing even comes close.
There are a few messages from Samantha.
Samantha
I’m keeping the vampire council very busy.
If you know what I mean.
I want to gag, but put the phone away. I crawl back into bed with my witch, holding her tight, and despite this endless energy I feel, I close my eyes, feeling at peace for the first time in my life.
When I wake, Ember is not in the bed, and I groan into the pillow that smells like her. The scent of chicken and something else is thick in the air. I ignore the scent as I grab my underwear and crack Ember’s door.
She hasn’t removed the darkening curtains and I go into the kitchen where she’s magically cooking, spoons stirring on their own, dishes washing themselves in the sink as she hums to a song I’m not familiar with.
I stare at her for a long time, watching her ass swish in her dress as she cooks and the way she tastes things by putting a finger in her mouth. It all feels so utterly domestic in a way I didn’t think I’d ever experience.
“What are you making?” I ask.
She jolts, jumping a little and turning to face me, clutching her chest.
“Didn’t we talk about you being louder with your stalking?”
“My apologies,” I say, taking a seat at her dining table.
“Just some chicken and rice, nothing fancy. I woke up starving. It won’t be sundown for a few more hours, though.”
I shrug. “I like it here more than I thought I would.”
“More than your fancy mansion?”
