“I can’t live on human blood. You know that.”
“Will it hurt you?”
“No.”
“Does it taste different than other blood?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve never tasted human blood.”
Bijou held his stare, searched deep in his eyes, attempting to see where he was going with this.
“Please.”
Her gaze shifted to his neck, to the pulse she could hear thumping steadily.
“Oliver…”
“Please,” he whispered.
“Okay,” she heard herself say.
Oliver didn’t move, his eyes still steady on hers.
Bijou reached up, cupping his face as she shifted in his lap, bringing her mouth toward his neck. She would’ve offered to take from his wrist, but she didn’t want to. Despite her hesitation, she had a strong desire to feed from him, to taste him, her curiosity likely spurred by his.
“Relax,” she urged, bringing her mouth to his neck as her fangs elongated, her upper lip pulling back.
Oliver moaned softly when she pressed her lips to his skin, and it was then she realized how intimate this was. He wasn’t a Fae, nor was he merely a blood source for her to survive on. No, Oliver’s blood would do nothing for her, which made this more intimate than anything she’d ever done before.
“Bite me,” he ground out.
Shocked by the command in his tone, Bijou pressed her fangs to his skin then sank into him as gently as she could.
He hissed, his hand tightening on her hip. She couldn’t ask if she was hurting him, and she only hoped he would let her know if she was.
The instant his blood hit her tongue, Bijou noticed something different about his taste. It was familiar almost. Which was odd because she’d only ever fed from vampires and the Fae. The first time she’d taken from Madok’s vein, she had noticed the difference. He didn’t taste like vampire.
But Oliver did.
“Don’t stop,” Oliver moaned, pulling her toward him. “Please don’t stop.”
Bijou wasn’t sure she could’ve if she’d wanted to. As she latched on, sealing her lips to his skin, she drank him down. His soft moans were erotic, making her want to continue even though she feared she would hurt him. She had no idea how much blood a human could spare.
“Bijou … oh, Christ…”
Oliver’s hips jerked beneath her and she felt his erection.
“Oh, fuck … you have to stop,” he warned. “I’m …asyra… Christ, I’m coming.”
Before she could pull from his vein, Oliver’s hips bucked again. Bijou allowed him to finish before she jerked her mouth from his neck, sealing the wounds quickly.
“What did you call me?” she asked, her voice nothing more than a breath of air.Asyrawas a word from the ancient vampire language. It was a term of endearment, one she knew no one here had ever used before. Yet he’d spoken it, even enunciated correctly. How? Where had he learned that word?
His brown eyes met hers briefly, but before he could respond, they rolled back in his head, his body convulsing once more.
“Shit!”
“Do you have a moment?” Acadia askedwhen Obsidian came down from the sunroom.
