His hand smoothed my veil from my neck before slipping his fingers beneath to grasp the partially loose hair underneath, tugging me close again.
I winced at the pressure at the base of my neck, a chill racing up and down my spine.
A playful smile danced as he studied my reaction, reveling in the upper hand. “Admit it, you missed me.”
“I did not.”
“Tell me you never dreamed about me.” He playfully swept his bottom lip against mine, the veil our only barrier.
“I had nightmares about you.”
“Because you wish me to haunt you?”
“Because you broke my heart,” I whispered, my lips brushing against his as I spoke, the proximity entrapping.
He was silent for once; that is how I knew he heard me.
“Alina—”
“Stop talking.” I leaned in, pulling him close, so close his breathing fanned against my neck, ragged in constraint.
He hesitated, the only proof of a sober thought. His fingers traced over the hems and folds of the dress around my waist until it reached my back. A deep breath before the fangs buried beneath my skin, the first opportunity they could.
My moan was involuntary, but it was hard not to feel the pleasure that overtook me as he fed. His cologne became stronger, my heart jumping; I’m sure he heard it, because his bite became firmer on my neck, as if to trap me.
Pictures overtook my mind suddenly like a silver screen.
The dull, gray room. Powerless in the dark, unable to sleep or else I would be teased by dreams of freedom or be subjected to another nightmare, only to have no relief when I finally awoke inthe middle of another night terror. I could feel my skin heating up; I was seeing stars like a combusting reel of emulsion film.
I clung to his shirt, steadying myself.
His hand was firm on my waist, his hand on my head moved to a firm grip on my hair, as if the bite wasn’t enough.
Curiously, he was not feeding anymore, just biting.
That is when I realized I hadn’t let him go.
“Silas,” I said shakily.
He withdrew his fangs quickly, flattening his tongue over the wound as if he anticipated it, waiting for even a whisper of his name on my lips. Just one word to stop.
He lifted the veil, just enough to expose my lips. That is when he kissed me, like he was desperate to taste the very word, hoping it would come again.
The metallic brass taste of blood and bourbon stung at the back of my throat. My eyes fluttered open, and I separated the kiss, his grip on the back of my neck keeping us in whispering distance.
“How does it feel,” he whispered, blood dripping from his lips to mine, “to be caught in my grasp again?” He pulled his gaze from my mouth to my eyes. “Is it as decadent as my venom coursing through your veins?”
“All I taste ismalice.” I pushed him back, but he caught my hand before I whipped it away from him.
23
THE CREATURE
My heartbeats matched each step she took away from me, except instead of becoming quieter, they became louder as the distance grew. Oh, what it would be to paint the walls with her. What a feast that would be.
I jerked my head back along with a mouthful of bourbon, then another. Once the second swallow was down, the Fixer was already breathing on my neck.
“Slow down,” he said as he snagged my arm. “What are you doing?”
