I close my eyes, feeling the brunt of his words. Of course, I do. I am frightening myself, I?—
“Because I’ve never felt likethisbefore,” he breathes, leaning closer to me. I open my eyes, noting his lips are barely inches from mine, as are his fangs.
“For a vampiress,” he says, as if the word itself is some sort of curse.
I nod, leaning forward a hair of an inch. Just enough to feel the edge of his lips.
“I’ve never felt this way for a vampire.” My voice isdarker than it should be. “So I suppose we can blame it on the heat,” I say carefully.
His hand in my hair tightens as does the hand holding mine.
“Right. It’s just the bloodheat,” he says.
And then all at once, the fire catches between us; like someone’s poured gasoline on that invisible entity.
Wesley’s mouth caresses mine, slowly. Carefully, as if he is afraid I will break.
Or perhaps it ishimhe fears will shatter.
I slide my free hand up his chest, grabbing his neck with equal fervor and the rush of heat overtakes me.
I have only ever kissed one man, and that kiss had been one-sided. Pleas of mercy didn’t exactly make the experience as satisfying as I'd hoped.
But kissing Wesley…
Kissing Wesley Castor is what I dreamed kissing a man would feel like.
He does not rush as I expect him to. His kiss remains slow, torturous and deep. He tightens his grip on me, and I press myself against him, feeling his evident hardness pressed against me, igniting the flames of my bloodheat with renewed vigor. I can’t help the groan that escapes me, nor can I help the way I grind my body against him, aching to feel more of his solidness against me. He parts his lips and I don’t think twice about slipping my tongue into his mouth, seeking his sharp fangs.
He groans, his tongue caressing mine, and I lose myself in the bliss of his perfect kiss. Blood prickles the edge of my tongue as I caress the edge of his sharp fang.
“What the fuck?” A voice breaks the moment, and Wesley shoves me away. I blink, trying to process the world around me as it comes back into view, and then I smellhim.
Woods and moss.Adrien.
I turn to see him, with tears in his eyes, shirtless, his hands balled into fists.
He’s glaring at Wesley like his stare alone could kill the man.
Or wishing it might.
“Adrien—” Wesley’s voice shakes, and it is more fearful than I’ve heard it yet.
Adrien glares at me, through his tear-stained gaze. Perhaps he wants to murder me, too, and something about that calls to my heart. I take a step forward.
“I can explain. I—” I say, but Adrien holds his hands up.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he says. “You don’t mean anything to me, I don’t give a shit whatyouwant to say.” He snarls at me.
“Adrien…” Wesley advances towards him, and Adrien steps backward. He keeps moving, putting distance between us, and Wesley follows him like a pet on a leash.
“I can’t do this right now, Wes,” he says, and I hear the choked pain in his voice.
Adrien tightens his lip. “I need space right now.”
And with that, he turns, giving us both his back and flees into the darkness.
Tears culminate in my own eyes as I watch Wesley run after him, calling out his name as if doing so willbring him back, even though I know it won’t. Call it a hunch. Wesley stops at the threshold of the door. My heart breaks, and I don’t know why.
