Hesitantly, she reaches out and lays her palms over mine. Her essence pulsates eagerly, rich and vibrant. But it’s not just her essence flooding my awareness—it’s the flutter of her pulse, the coolness of her skin, the little hitch in her breath. Her hands are so delicate that I might shatter her fingers if I squeeze too hard. As her skin warms under my touch, it’s like holding onto silk.
Focus.I’ve fed on hundreds without getting distracted by the mechanics of their bodies.
I close my eyes and begin the incantation, drawing her energy into me like a deep swig of ale.
“Tua essentia mea fit…”
The sensation is immediate and intoxicating, like warm honey flowing through my soul. And oh, thefeelof her. Unlike a life force stolen from an unwilling victim, hers is offered freely, and it tastes sweeter than anything I’ve ever experienced. Her flavor, her texture, the way she settles into my bones…
Hannah sucks in a sharp breath, and I open my eyes to find her gaze locked onto me. In the firelight, her eyes are molten. Her cheeks are flushed, her full lips parted. The way she’s looking at me makes heat coil deep inside me, pleasure rushing through my core.
As I continue reciting, her breaths become fast and shallow, and her fingers tighten over mine. She’s enjoying this, as she should.
But her life force is…resisting. Perhaps she’s stronger than I thought.
I push up her sleeves, exposing her wrists and forearms so I can access more of her. When I press my palms to her bare skin, she makes a small sound in the back of her throat, like she’s surprised by the sensation.
I recite the incantation again, louder this time.
My fingers darken. Her life force flows into me in waves, each pulse sending an intoxicating rush through me. I tip my head back, my breaths quickening as power fills me.
God, has feeding always been this good? Have I forgotten after spending so many years dormant? Her taste is better than anything I can remember, and the sensation of her in my veins is better than what any mouth or fingers could do to me.
Hannah’s hands twitch in my grasp, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans closer.
My magic wants to keep going. It wants me to push her onto her back and pin her hands above her head, to thoroughly drain her, to take every drop of energy she has until…
Her eyelids flutter, and the rosy color in her cheeks drains. She begins to tremble, weakening.
No.If I don’t stop, the binding spell will ensure I die right along with her.
Hannah might be mine to feed on, but she’s also mine to protect, whether I like it or not.
My hands might as well have turned to stone, given how hard it is to let go of her. But I grit my teeth and force my grip to loosen. As my darkened fingers uncurl from her forearms, the connection snaps, leaving me breathless.
My insides burn, left wanting and unsatisfied. Like drinking a single drop of water after being parched. Or like stopping right at the moment of climax, denying myself the full release. Spikes of pain pulse through my veins, and I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching for her again.
That’s enough,I tell myself firmly.
I wipe my arm across my clammy forehead. My magic coils tighter, yearning to take a little more.
So this is where Rebecca gets me: leaving me perpetually unsatisfied and unable to drink my fill.
Hannah pulls her hands in, cradling them against her chest. She blinks and looks around. The color has returned to her face, which is reddening as a flush creeps up her neck. Her fingers tremble as she touches her forearms, tracing the path my hands took as if trying to understand what happened to her. She looks thoroughly ravaged—lips parted, pupils dilated, sweat glistening at the base of her throat. When her gaze darts to mine, quick and uncertain, the look in her eyes is not fear or disgust, but something like curiosity about a feeling she doesn’t know what to do with.
Interesting.
She has no idea what she’s invited into her life.
I tear my gaze away and flex my fingers, my restored power tingling beneath my skin.
At my gesture, the kettle rumbles, and steam billows from the spout. I guide it to the coffee table and pour boiling water into Hannah’s mug.
“Much better.” I set the kettle back onto the stove, sighing with the satisfaction of having my magic respond properly. At least it’s enough to sustain me for now. I’ll be able to perform basic magic and maybe a complex spell or two before I need to feed again.
“Now we can find the witch who cursed us?” Hannah says, her voice hoarse.
I stand and dust off my sleeves, pleased with how steady I feel despite the incomplete feeding. “Yes. We will start by finding what’s left of my coven.”
