Pain flared at my throat, sharp and bright.
Lips, softer than feathers, moved against my throat; the flick of a tongue, curious and wicked, had me groaning low in my throat.
I’d been bitten before—by enemies, by lovers, by strangers even—but this was… euphoric. Life changing—the way Ember’s fingers curled into my skin, the feel of her warm breath skating over me. I banded an arm around her back, holding her in place, my blood roaring.
She drank like she’d been starving her entire life.
Growling deep in her throat, her fingernails dug into my skin, little nips of pain that had me seeing stars as she moaned against my throat, her entire body writhing against mine.
“I’m moving you higher, so you’re at a better angle,” I husked, and the second her fingernails dug deeper, I swept her onto my lap.
Fuck yes. This was heaven.
I felt every hard, hungry pull in my cock, every swallow sending a faint echo of sensation into my chest, beneath where her hand was firmly planted. Her body relaxed, then shuddered as the full effect of my blood hit her—vein-hot instead of bag-cold, from a Dominico male in his prime, even if I was damaged beyond repair on the outside.
Her fingers tightened, and a small, involuntary sound slipped out of her, half-moan, half-growl. I closed my eyes, lost in this perfect moment. Not that I should savor this so much.
I was using her, and when I was done with my revenge, I’d cut her loose.
Emberline DiRavello was never part of my permanent plan, but this… this was fucking perfect.
“Easy,” I soothed, letting my hand come up to cradle the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. The strands felt like the finest silk, sifting through my fingers. “Ember,” I ordered, a little sharper.
She didn’t stop.
The room tilted faintly as she growled, biting deeper, drawing harder. She’d never done this before. Of course, she didn’t know when to pull away.
I tightened my hand in her hair—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get her attention—letting a tone of absolute command slip into my voice.
“Emberline.Look at me.”
Slowly, as if fighting her own instincts, she pulled back, lips dragging over my skin, her tongue tracing the punctures one last time. Blood stained her mouth, eyes blown wide, pupils swallowing almost all the color.
“I—” She licked her lips automatically, catching the last streak of red before a deep flush crept up her throat. “Gods.”
“No gods here,” I muttered roughly, still cradling her against me, her ass against my hard cock, the full length of her glorious body pressed against mine, soft and pliable and smelling like sunshine and citrus. “Only me.”
“Only us,” she agreed dreamily, burrowing deeper into my arms.
“How do you feel?” I asked, reaching up to check my neck. The punctures were deep, still bleeding.
Perfect.
“Warm.” Her lips curved into a woozy smile. “Woozy, like I drank way too much wine.” She made no effort to move, curled against me, all warm and relaxed like a kitten. “All I want to do is sleep for days. Weeks.”
“You’re exhausted. You were starving, and this is what real blood does to you. The effects will wear off in an hour, but until then…”
I held onto her tight as I pushed to my feet, scooped her weapons up off the table with one hand, and stuffed them into my pocket before I closed my eyes and reached for my magic.
What I wouldn’t give to stay inside this pocket of silence for just a few more hours, I thought, spooling my power back into me, dropping the wards around the room, even though it wasn’t yet dawn. But it was time for the game to begin, with my wife’s teeth marks in my throat and her in my arms… I couldn’t think of a better way to get started.
“I think I hurt you,” she murmured sleepily in that throaty voice, reaching up, her fingers touching the bite. She slipped the stained ends into her mouth and sucked. My starving libido went haywire when her red lips closed around them, cheeks hollowing out.
“You fed from me, and I enjoyed every minute; remember that.” I rasped, knowing I was the worst sort of bastard, every raw inch of me tight and aching as I watched her suck my blood off her fingers like a godsdamned voyeur.
The moment the wards dropped, chaos surged in, angry, shouting voices, pounding footsteps, far off screaming.
I kicked the double doors off their hinges, everyone rearing out of the way—Zia Elisabetta, the awful daughter, enough soldiers to start a war. And my brother, Gabriel, eyes promising pain.
