My gaze locks onto his wrist so I don’t have to read too deeply into his words. The gash left by his fangs is already beginning to mend. If I drink his blood, does that mean he will take me home?
I latch onto the wound, my lips sealing over the torn skin, and I suck, his essence exploding on my tongue—rich, heady, and intoxicating. I swallow, and each gulp is a river of molten silk, liquid fire igniting my senses and awakening my body. His blood courses through me, healing my wounds, knitting bones back together, banishing pain and exhaustion, and replacing it all with a surge of power, strength, and vitality.
Vane sighs, his body melting against mine, his arm tightening around my waist, holding me close as I lie in his lap. A primal moan vibrates through me, through him, as my tongue dances across his skin, savoring his taste, relishing the feel of him hardening beneath me.
Fuck. He tastes delicious. I could drown in his blood.
Vane’s mouth finds my neck, his lips a whisper against my skin, his breath a searing caress. He captures my earlobebetween his front teeth. Each swallow is greedier than the last. I arch against him, pressing closer, craving more. Him. Us. More.
“That’s enough,” he says, his voice low and rough, but I can’t let go. The need is too strong, the hunger too deep. I grind my ass against him, eliciting a hiss from his lips. “Desiree,please. Not here.”
His plea pierces through the haze of desire, forcing me to stop. Releasing his wrist is like trying to break bones with my bare hands. It takes every ounce of strength to let go, to pull away, to separate myself from his taste and from the hard press of his body against mine.
I open my eyes to find a thirst, need, and desire that mirrors my own. His half-lidded eyes, glowing red in the darkness, are a temptation I yearn to lose myself in.
My tongue skims my bottom lip, savoring the lingering traces of his blood. The urge to mark and make him mine pulses through me, but I know these thoughts are not entirely my own. It’s the blood’s influence.
“Thank you,” I breathe, the words are inadequate. He saved my life. It makes no sense, considering I thought he wouldn’t mind if I died.
Vane doesn’t answer. His attention drifts toward the north entrance. His unease ripples through me like a mirage.
“The groundskeeper is coming to inspect the blaze,” he says, then picks me up, and whisks me away from the cemetery. I let him take me only because he’s bringing me back to the Nest.
Much to my disappointment,we return to Wilder’s loft. The elevator ride to 2B is a suffocating journey, with the confined space amplifying the unspoken words between Vane and me. With Vane’s blood coursing through my veins, I’m painfully aware of his proximity. Every inhale sends goose bumps racing across my skin, and every exhale draws a silent whimper from my throat. Thank fuck Vyvyan was unconscious after I fed her my blood. I’m shaking with need.
I flick on the loft’s lights and storm straight to the bathroom. Though the torn skin on my face has knitted together, the blood remains. I grab a towel and wet it, the cool water a welcome relief as I clean the caked blood from my skin.
Once I get most of it off, I return to the living room to deal with Vane. Why the fuck did he bring me here instead of the Nest?
Dropping onto the couch, I wince as the cushions press against my formerly tattered body. The metallic scent of blood fills my nostrils as I peel off my torn shirt. The fabric clings to my healed wounds, but it doesn’t stop me from tossing it aside. In just my bra and jeans, I swipe at the dried blood on my chest and stomach. I’m positive my back is a web of scratches and bruises.
Vane stands stiffly near the window, his silhouette outlined by the few city lights working in this area of town. When he turnsto face me, his eyes roam over my exposed skin, lingering on my curves.
A flush creeps up my neck. What does he see when he looks at me now? He’s given me his blood, completing half the bond. We already had a connection due to him siring me, but now that he’s given me his blood, I am overly aware of him. The difference is that the sire bond doesn’t amplify attraction, unlike the blood bond.
With his blood coursing through my veins, the desire to erase the distance between us is paramount above all else. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. Is he angry or having trouble keeping himself from touching me?
When I gave my blood to Vyvyan, she wasn’t a vampire long enough to experience the full effects of the blood bond before my blood turned her human. But now, I can sense the powerful connection that Vane’s blood has forged between us. It’s a sensation I’ve never felt, both exhilarating and terrifying. Is this what Vyvyan would have felt if my blood weren’t poison? I choke on a laugh. She would have hated that.
“Let me help you.” Vane stalks toward me.
I freeze in place. He takes the towel from my hand, and when his fingers brush against mine, a jolt of electricity rips through my body. He kneels before me as he did before my date with Jaxson to help with my shoes, his eyes never leaving mine as he wipes blood from my skin, his touch surprisingly gentle.
I’m so used to his callousness that I close my eyes, losing myself in how his fingers brush over my skin, leaving fire trails in their wake. I bite my lip, stifling a sigh, as he works his way up my arms, across my collarbone, and down my chest.
It’s not real—this behavior toward me, this kindness. He might have given me his blood, but only because, as my sire, my pain must’ve felt visceral to him. Soon, the effects will wear off, and the maddening need to touch and be touched will dissipate,or at least, I pray it will. Vane doesn’t care about me; he only cares about Vyvyan and himself.
“Vane,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over my pounding heart.
He looks up at me, his eyes brimming with desire, and I know in that moment that I’m lost. I’ll never be able to resist him, no matter how hard I try. Not anymore.
I stifle a dark laugh. Was his intention to ruin me for anyone else?
“I’m confused,” I say, taking the towel. I can’t think with his hands on me.
“About?” Vane replies, still on his knees.
“Why did you save me?” I ask.
