It was obscene. It was gentle. It was intimate. A kiss that understood every place I’d ever wanted to be touched but hadn’t said aloud.
“Is it supposed to feel like this?” I managed.
In answer, he made a deep, satisfied sound that rumbled against my neck and straight through my spine.
Too soon, he pulled back. Cool air replaced his mouth, and I swayed forward, my body betraying me completely.
“You done?” My voice came out rough, breathy.
“Yes.” His voice was different now—lower, thicker, threaded with something possessive. “May I heal you?”
I simply nodded because words had left the building. He leaned in again, his mouth finding the same spot, and dragged his tongue reverently over the bite.
It was tender and electric, and every inch of me reacted.
A sound escaped me—half sigh, half moan—and I slapped a hand over my mouth, mortified. “Oh my god.”
He straightened, eyes darker, lips faintly parted, and I could still feel the ghost of his mouth on my skin. The bond between us hummed, thick and heavy, and I realized I was trembling for a different reason now.
Every cell in my body was screamingyes,while my brain frantically flipped through its therapy notes forhealthy coping mechanisms.
I needed to step away, take a deep breath, maybe call my therapist, or possibly fling myself into the ocean.
“Excuse me,” I said way too loudly. “I need the bathroom. Immediately.”
I bolted down the hall before he could say a word. Inside, I slammed the door, gripped the sink, and stared at my reflection. My pupils were blown, cheeks pink.
“What thehellwas that?” I hissed at myself.
My pulse was still galloping. My neck looked perfectly fine—no bite marks, no hickey. There was no evidence whatsoever of the absolute emotional crime scene that was happening in my body.
“Get it together, Nadia,” I muttered, splashing water on my face. “You’re not into him. You just got… vampire-tongue drunk. Happens to the best of us. Totally normal.”
My reflection did not agree. She looked smug. Hell, she looked horny.
“Oh my god. You absolute slut.” I pointed accusingly at the mirror. “No. We are not doing this. You are a professional. You teach children how to spell. You wear cardigans with inspirational pins. You cannot be out here catching feelings because a four-hundred-year-old vampire used hismouth powerson your neck.”
I took a deep breath. “You’re fine. You’re grounded. You’re an emotionally mature adult who just”—I gestured wildly at myself—“participated in supernatural co-regulation with light neck licking. It’s fine.”
My reflection raised one eyebrow.
I groaned. “Yeah. I don’t believe me either.”
Then I pointed at myself again for emphasis. “No touching. No feelings. No more… supernatural mouth adventures.” I paused, grimacing. “God, even saying that out loud sounds dirty.”
Somewhere down the hall, I swore I heard Cristian laugh, like he knew exactly what he’d done to me.
I flipped off the mirror and muttered, “I need a vacation from my vacation.”
Chapter 8
Cristian
Isat stiffly, hands clasped in my lap, doing everything in my power not to panic.
Her blood sang inside me.
I had drunk from queens, warriors, witches—but nothing like her. Nadia’s blood was life distilled. It burned with warmth, color, and something I could not name. Magic, perhaps. Or madness.
