Which makes me smile. “Hi.”
“I’m sorry?—”
I put up a hand. “Just… don’t. There’s no point in apologizing. It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault. And there’s nothing we can do about it. You can feed off me or… take your chances on what happens if you don’t. I’m not recommending that, by the way. Whatever those consequences are, I’m absolutely sure it will be much worse than… this.” I make a little gesture to the two of us. “And I guess I could refuse to feed you. But you must have it, Ryet. And if I say no, then…”
I don’t finish. I don’t need to. If I don’t feed him willingly, he’ll just take it from me.
I am hisfood.
It’s not personal, it’s just nature. It’s survival. If I were starving and saw a hen, for instance, I could catch it, and keep it as a pet, and eat the eggs. We could be friends. Companions. But if it stopped laying eggs, what choice would I have? I would kill it. And then consume it. It’s just survival.
Ryet sighs. “I don’t understand it all yet. But I’m going to figure it out. And part of that is figuring out how to free you from this.”
It takes a real effort not to scoff at hisproclamation, or whatever it is. But I manage. And I force a smile too. “Here.” I lean towards him, moving my hair aside so he can have access to my neck. “Go ahead.”
“Come on, now. We can do better than this.” He says this easily. Lightly. Like feeding him my blood can be fun.
“What do you mean?” My tone is the opposite of fun.
He reaches for my hip and pulls me towards him, then grabs my legs and pulls them over his lap. One arm sliding behind me, the other hand reaching for my breast.
I stop breathing. Conflicted. Because the feeding is already a little bit sexual and this is just adding to it. I’m not sure I want to associate drinking my blood with sexual arousal.
But I can’t deny that I like this switch in position. I like the feel of his body next to mine and his hand on my breast. It’s not like I want to stop all this closeness and touching, it’s just disconcerting that I find it enjoyable, given that he’s literally eating me.
I don’t have time to ponder this further, though, because that hunger of his is coming at me like a wave and my whole body picks up on his cravings. There doesn’t seem to be any way forward except for surrender. So I let out a breath and lean my head to the side. Closing my eyes as he presses his mouth to the soft, tender skin just below my jaw.
I expected a little more hesitation. A few more awkward moments. More effort, on his part, to protest the unfairness of it all. But almost immediately I feel the sharp twinge of his teeth piercing my skin. It’s like two needle pricks. Jolting, a little bit painful, but over quickly.
He pauses here. This has been his little ritual since he woke up. When he was mostly unconscious, he didn’t pause. He sank them in deep and took. So the pause is his conscious effort to make it easier on me. I’m not sure it does, though. It might just prolong it. I might just prefer he be rougher and get it over with.
There is a little bit of pressure now. And this is what triggers the hormonal response, I think. Because new feelings rush through me. And the slower he goes, the more I feel them.
His hand is on my breast, gently squeezing it, when he takes the first pull.
I almost come undone from the warmth that floods through my body. His lips on my neck, the pulling of the blood, his hand on my breast—it’s more than just a little bit sexual, it’s erotic and I’m getting turned on. My breath is coming faster, my heart beating quicker, and for a moment, I think I might come.
Then I’m sure of it, but just before I do, he stops. Pulls back. Sighs.
And all the feelings inside me go with him.
I let out a long breath, feeling very embarrassed at what almost happened, and then open my eyes. Ryet’s head is resting back on the couch cushions, his eyes closed, his lips smiling. Like he just came as well.
I bite my lip and squirm until I’m off his lap and back in my own space. “Feel better?”
“Mmmm-hmmm.” He can barely talk. “Much better.”
I watch him for a few moments, captivated by the expression of bliss on his face. Picturing myself with that same feeling if he had just fed on me for a few more moments. The most confusingpart of this is that I’m not sure if I’m upset that he’s feeling this way and I’m not, or I’m just resentful that it’s so enjoyable for him.
Ryet sighs, then opens his eyes. “Thanks. I really do feel much,muchbetter.”
“How come you don’t feed longer, Ryet? I mean, instead of taking frequent little sips, couldn’t you just… take a lot and need it less often?”
He sinks into the cushions a little. Like he’s getting comfortable. His eyes are lazy and low. Like he might sleep. “I don’t really have control of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need it. I get it. And the moment my teeth sink into you and the blood flows, I lose control. The need goes away and then… I don’t even make a decision to be done. I just pull away when I am.”
