It was too much for him to resist.
He wanted her too desperately, for too long.
As his release ratcheted tighter and his tempo grew wilder, the last shred of his control snapped its fragile leash.
He came on sharp roar, and at the same time lunged down and sank his fangs into the tender column of her throat.
Willow’s blood hit his tongue like a taste of pure starlight. Sweet and hot, yet infused with an elusive, cosmic power that astonished him. One sip fired his senses as if they’d been dormant all his life and were suddenly awakened and set aglow.
He felt her in every cell of his being. In his heart. In his blood, bones, and marrow.
In his very soul.
A deep self-loathing spiraled in the pit of his conscience for how selfishly he’d taken this extraordinary gift. Too late for regret, although it churned inside him like a black tide beneath the staggering pleasure and power of the blood bond that now linked him to Willow.
And while he hated himself for losing control when there was still the matter of the secret he had yet to tell her, he couldn’t stop drinking from her vein.
He couldn’t stop savoring the rush of power flowing into him from this woman who had turned his life upside down and ruined him for any other.
He was never going to forgive himself for what he’d just done.
The more damning question was, would she?
CHAPTER 22
She hadn’t known what to expect when she invited Razor to take her vein.
She’d expected pain from his bite, so the sharp piercing of her throat hadn’t come as a complete surprise. It was the sensations that came swiftly behind the fleeting jolt of discomfort that caught her totally unaware.
Pleasure like she’d never known before exploded inside her, all of it radiating from the point of contact where his mouth had fastened onto her neck. His fangs sank deep, then retreated as her blood began to course into his mouth. Each frantic pulse of her heart, each possessive tug of the suction from his lips and tongue against her tender skin, made her orgasm spiral tighter, higher, until she could hardly contain the enormity of how good he made her feel.
Clutching him against her as he drank, knowing the significance of what his bite meant—that he had just initiated a bond that would link him to her forever—only added to the depth of her pleasure. He’d just come moments ago, yet if anything it had only made him harder inside her. He rode her relentlessly, until she thought she might die from ecstasy.
She had no hope of holding back the rush of release that detonated within her. She came with his name a broken cry on her lips. He plunged deep at the same time, shuddering with the force of yet another climax of his own.
Willow hung on to him as they shattered together. As powerful as her release had been, so too was the depth of her love for him. The words spilled off her tongue before she could even think to keep them inside.
“I love you, Razor.”
She tried to tell herself the sudden stillness that seemed to wash over him was only her imagination. She wanted to believe the low curse that vibrated deep in his chest wasn’t a sound of regret.
But he had gone still. The curse she heard was followed by another, this time more vivid. Full of barely couched anger.
Razor’s tongue swept over the punctures he’d created in her throat. It was an intimate sensation, yet it sent a cold chill through her.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his hot breath fanning the side of her face as he began to push away from her. “Fuck, Willow . . . I’m sorry.”
She felt as if the floor had suddenly opened and was about to swallow her. “What’s wrong?”
He rolled off her and moved to the end of the bed. He sat there, hunched forward, holding his head in his hands. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”
Willow stared at his back, at the tangle ofdermaglyphsthat were still writhing and swirling with vibrant colors all over his naked skin. “W-what did I do wrong? Is it because of what I said?”
“No.” His reply came out sharp. “It’s nothing you’ve done. Nothing you’ve said.”
Abruptly, he got up and began to hastily put his clothes back on. Willow watched him in a state of confusion and concern. A terrible thought occurred to her. “Oh, God. Is it my blood? Please, tell me it hasn’t harmed you—”
“It’s nothing like that.” He bit off the words and wheeled around to face her. She’d never seen him look so tormented, so furious. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one at fault here. I should’ve had more control instead of taking something that can never be given back.”
