Page 105 of Hunger & Harmony

I choose him.

“Here.”

I offer my hand. No prophecy can stop me.

“What about my finger?” I ask, and his flickering eyes widen.

His hand gently grasps my wrist, my pulse fluttering against his fingertips. A visible shudder rolls through his body. It has me sucking in a quick breath.

“Just a small prick,” he murmurs after one more heartbeat of hesitation. “I promise not to hurt you any further.”

“To be fair, I’m sure resisting the bond hurts more.”

He only half-smiles in response, but I’m happy to see even that. I know he’s terrified. He’s shaking as he guides my hand upwards, and he stops again to meet my eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I say, meaning every bit of that one, small word.

I don’t push him. It’s him who has to move carefully, gentle with my mortality as he teeters on the edge of losing control.

“I trust you,” I breathe. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

That settles him enough to kiss the top of my hand. I smile, warmth pooling into the cracks that pain left between us.

His lips next press to my knuckles, and he lingers, inhaling the scent that glows crimson in his eyes. Hunger eases into steadiness as he reaches the tip of my index finger.

My heart skips a beat. The way his mouth feels against my skin is sacred, and it’s not fear, but fire igniting in my abdomen as his right fang grazes me.

A sharp, brief pinch gives way to relief. With one hand on my waist, his other holds my wrist still as blood beads on my finger.

I shiver. He draws closer, eyes on mine as he takes his first taste.

My mouth falls open, bliss coloring the corners of my existence as he feeds. His satiation is my own, and so is his euphoria. It’s overwhelming. Perfect. A cross between a giggle and a moan bubbles up my throat.

“Whoa,” I gasp, and he hums, dark lashes sweeping closed.

It feels so good, the last echoes of shared anguish dissolving. I’m boneless. The weight of our bond eases completely, and he hasn’t fed that long. It’s not long enough when he slowly pulls off my finger, licking the small wound closed.

His irises remain steady, a stain of red on his bottom lip as he kisses my hand again.

Warmth blossoms on my face. I’m not shy, but maybe I should be as he places another kiss on my inner wrist.

He’s whole again. A single drop destroyed everything, and only a few more have restored Sancte Noctis’ king. While the implications unsettle me, I can’t linger in that worry.

Not with him looking at me like that.

“Mmm.”

He hums contentedly, and I realize I’ve never seen him relaxed. In control. Liquid desire burns between my hips as he kisses up my wrist, witnessing an entirely new him. Fear and weariness have been chased out, but I can only tell by how Niko moves without restraint. While his soul remains tucked behind my ribs, I’m not in step with his senses and thoughts anymore.

“What’re you thinking?” I ask, followed by a breathless giggle.

“About how I’ve never felt so good.” Another kiss before he pulls me on top of him. “About how I wish to return the favor.”

I squeal, feet kicking lightly as I lie on top of him. We’re still on the floor, and moonlight peeks through the blinds. There’s no place I’d rather be.

“Niklaus,” I tease, and I swear, I can see my smile in his blown pupils.