His chest stilled, and panic frosted her veins.
“RONIN!” She cocked her arm back and punched him in the jaw.
He surged to life, wrapping his arms around her waist, and hauled her into his lap.
And she tried not to scream as Ronin fisted her hair, exposed her neck, and sank his sharpened canines into her flesh.
A heady,succulent liquid flowed into Ronin’s mouth, singeing down his throat and through his veins.
It tasted like a snow-dampened bonfire, smoldering embers on the back of his tongue.
It tasted like a forest floor covered in pine needles and icy moonlight.
It tasted like awolf.
Mirielle’s wolf. That familiar combination of musk and overripe flowers.
His own wolf howled, dissolving the Delirium stupor.
There was a soft body cradled in his lap. Feminine hips pressing against his cock. Muscular legs straddling his waist. Silky hair tangled in his fingers.
He slowly became aware of his lips on Mireille’s neck, his teeth piercing her flesh as he sucked down mouthful after mouthful of the most intoxicating blood he’d ever tasted.
Snippets of their conversation pelted him. Something about him needing to sober up.
Frenzied Dienses, what the fuck was he doing?
And why couldn’t he stop?
Pliant in his lap, Mireille whimpered as his throat worked, drinking her down.
Was she enjoying this?
Her delicate hands rested on his shoulders, steadying him. Or perhaps steadying herself.
As the fog of the Delirium lifted, he removed his mouth from her addictive flesh. He shortened his canines, panting as he pressed his forehead against her chest.
Fuck,she tasted good.
She stroked the back of his neck as he returned to himself, and when he lifted his head to look at her, there was fear in her eyes.
But not for herself.
For him.
As if he were fuckingworthsomething.
“Are you okay?" she asked. “Did you take enough?”
He licked the smear of blood off her neck, and the two puncture wounds began threading back together. “I… I think I’m good.”
She made no move to remove herself from his lap.
He cupped her face, gratitude squeezing his chest. “So fucking brave.” Another shiver of pleasure ran through her at his praise.
His wolf was frantic, the infusion of Mireille’s blood stirring the creature into a frenzy of indecipherable yips and barks and howls.
Which was probably a blessing. Ronin didn’t want to hear any of the beast’s vulgar ideas, especially since his and Mireille’s limbs were still tangled together. Their faces were so close that he could feel her warm breath on his lips.
