In all my years, all my feedings, no one has ever asked me to be with them without my magic. They wanted the power, the intoxication, the dark thrill of being consumed. But Hannah wants…what? I don’t understand why she insists on this. What’s the point of this intimacy if I’m not going to fill my magic in the process?
But if this is how I get her to surrender enough to break the spell, so be it.
I grip her waist and kiss her back hard, running my tongue over her lips. Somewhere during the evening, my desire for her has turned into something painful. Every brush of her lips sends fire through my veins, andevery sound she makes deepens the ache between my legs until I cannot think.
Her hands tangle in my hair, tugging hard enough to make my breath hitch. She swallows the sound with a deeper kiss, and I can’t help the way my back arches to meet her.
What is she doing to me? Making my body move without my permission, making my breath catch and my insides ache with desire. I’m Julia Moreau. I do not lose control. I do not let anyone reduce me to trembling need, no matter how beautiful. But her hands in my hair, her tongue in my mouth…
This is dangerous. A traitorous part of me wants to be touched without the excuse of hunger, to matter to someone beyond what my magic can do for them.
“You’re thinking too much,” Hannah murmurs against my mouth, her breath hot. “Let go.”
She grinds down against me, the friction through our clothes making my thoughts dissipate like scattering dust. And as she trails her lips down my throat, nipping at spots that make me shiver, the confusion roaring inside me falls away. All that matters are her lips and hands.
She pulls back to look at me, her eyes wide and wild, her lips swollen from our kisses. No one has ever looked at me the way she does, with a hunger that matches my own.
“That’s better,” she whispers.
Before I can deny whatever she thinks I’m feeling, she rocks back and grabs the hem of that tiny shirt of hers. She pulls it over her head, revealing her perfect breasts and hard nipples. Her smooth, pale skin isn’t full of goosebumps this time, but she’s marked by my fingers and the rough tree bark from earlier. This evidence of what we did, of the way she begged and moaned for me in the woods, makes something desperate roar back to lifeinside me. I want to mark her again. I want to bite her perfect skin until she’s gasping my name.
Without taking my eyes off her, I extend my hand toward the parlor doors, sealing them with a rune. Of course, nothing will truly keep Elizabeth out of a room in her own house, but it will be enough to deter her and to stop the others from entering.
Hannah glances at the door, her chest heaving as she watches red marks seal us in as if by a molten blade.
“Undress for me,” I command. I want to savor this, to see every inch of skin she reveals for me.
She hesitates for the briefest moment, then stands, removing her bottoms so she’s naked in front of me once more.
“Your turn,” she whispers.
She reaches for my bodice, and I catch her wrists, stopping her. The movement was instinctive, my body reacting before I thought about what I was doing.
Hannah goes still, holding my gaze. “Trust me.”
The word prickles my ears.Trust.I have never granted anyone such power.
Every instinct screams at me to get to my feet and back her against the wall, to pin her wrists above her head and show her who’s in control. I could have her on her back in seconds, legs spread and bound by magic, perfect lips begging. The urge to dominate her is so strong that magic crackles between my knuckles.
But something challenging in her gaze makes me stay seated. She is daring me to let this happen…and I hate how much I want it.
Slowly, I force my fingers to uncurl, releasing her wrists.
My pulse is racing. This simple act of letting go feels like stepping off a cliff. Every second I allow her to continue is a second I’m not dictating what happens next, not protected by the armor of dominance.
But when she smiles—not triumphant, but something softer—the unease inside me loosens, and I let her reach forward once more. Her hands are gentle as she finds the small hooks down the front of my bodice. One by one, she pries them free until the whole piece relaxes.
She eases it open, sliding her hands around my waist as she pushes the cloth back.
With only my blouse and chemise between her skin and mine, her touch is like fire, making me burn and ache everywhere.
She kisses me, slow and deep, then pulls back to unbutton my blouse next. When the cool air meets my skin, she pushes it back over my shoulders, her hands following. Only my chemise is left.
She traces the curves and planes of my body like she’s memorizing me. I shiver.
Never has anyone touched me like this. Charlotte worshipped my power, but Hannah touches me like…
I don’t know.
