Even if it was for her blood.
Her fingernails dug into his back as that shimmering, glorious peak hovered just beyond reach.
At the moment she would have agreed to anything he demanded.
Anything.
"Yes," she whispered.
With a growl that would have terrified her if she weren't caught in the throes of passion, his head slowly lowered to the slender length of her neck.
Despite her excitement Darcy found herself tensing. There seemed no possible way for a pair of fangs to stab through the skin without pain.
His tongue lightly touched the vein throbbing in her throat. "I swear I will not harm you," he said in a husky tone.
"Styx..."
Her words were brought to a shuddering halt as there was a sensation of cool pressure and then a shocking jolt of intense pleasure flooded through her body.
She could feel each deep suck. As if he were pulling blood from the very tips of her toes. And in perfect rhythm he continued to stroke his thumb over her tender spot of pleasure.
It was all too much.
Darcy gasped as she writhed beneath his touch, her nails raking down his back. She had enjoyed the touch of a man before. She wasn't a complete novice.
But nothing—nothing—could compare to the near violent explosion that clenched her lower muscles and brought a startled scream to her lips.
With a gentleness she would never have expected from such a large man, Styx carried her to the bed and tucked her still-shaking body beneath the covers. Then, stretching out beside her, he leaned on his elbow and studied her with a searching gaze.
"Angel?"
It took Darcy several moments to recall how to speak. "Gripes," she at last managed.
His expression became concerned as he touched her cheek. "Are you . . . well?"
"I think so."
She began to inch her way up the mound of pillows when she was halted by a firm hand on her shoulder.
"You shouldn't move yet." He turned to reach behind him, catching her off guard as he pressed a chilled glass he had brought into her hand. "Here."
"What is it?" she demanded with obvious suspicion.
His lips twitched. "Nothing more dangerous than fruit juice."
She took a cautious sip, relieved at the sweet taste of oranges. Relieved and surprised.
"This is fresh. Did you make it?"
"Why are you so surprised? I'm not utterly useless."
She drained the glass before setting it aside and returning her attention to the man looming over her.
"I just can't imagine why a vampire would need culinary skills. It's not like you spend a lot of time in the kitchen."
"No, our sustenance does not come from food." A heat that she was beginning to recognize smoldered in his dark eyes as he deliberately trailed his fingers down the curve of her neck. His brows lifted as a sudden color stained her cheeks. "You are blushing."
Well, duh.