From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,200

I did.

I drank while his gaze remained fixed on me, seeming to miss nothing. I drank, and my skin began to hum. I drank, clasping his bloodied arm and holding him to me before even realizing what I was doing. The taste of his blood…it was pure sin, decadent and lush. With each swallow, the aches and pains lessened, and the rhythm of my heart slowed, becoming even. I drank until my eyes drifted shut. Until I became surrounded by a kaleidoscope of vivid, bright blues, the color reminding me of the Stroud Sea. This blue carried startling clarity as if it were a body of water untouched by man.

But this was no ocean. There was cool, hard rock under my feet, and shadows pressing against my skin. Soft laughter drew my gaze from the pool of water to the dark-haired—

“Enough,” Hawke bit out. “That’s enough.”

It couldn’t be enough. Not yet. Latched to his wrist, I drank greedily. I fed as if I were starving, and that was how I felt. That this sustenance was what I’d been missing my entire life.

“Poppy,” he groaned, breaking my hold and pulling his ravaged wrist away.

I started to follow because I wanted more, but my muscles were liquid, and my bones soft. I sank into his embrace and felt like I was floating, a little lost in the way my skin continued to buzz, and heat poured into my chest. I had no idea how much time had passed. Could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been hours before Hawke called out to me.

My eyes fluttered open to find him staring down at me. His features were a little out of focus, fuzzy around the edges. He was leaning back against a wall, head tipped against it, and he looked utterly relaxed in that moment, as if he were the one to have tasted the magic and not I.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Was my body burning as if it were on fire? Did it sting and pulse? No. “I’m not cold. My chest…it’s not cold.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t understand. “I feel…different.”

A small smile appeared. “Good.”

“I feel like my body…isn’t attached.”

“That will go away after a few minutes. Just relax and enjoy it.”

“I don’t hurt anymore.” I tried to steady my thoughts, but they were swirling. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s my blood.” He lifted his hand, brushing strands of hair off my cheek. His touch sent a shiver of awareness through me, and I liked the feeling. I liked the way he made me feel. I always had, but I wasn’t supposed to now. “The blood of an Atlantian has healing properties. I told you that.”

“That…that is unbelievable,” I whispered.

“Is it?” Reaching over, he picked up my arm. “Were you not wounded here?”

My gaze followed his to my inner forearm. Dried blood and dirt smudged the surface, but where claws had ripped the tissue open, the skin was now smooth under the grime.

“And here?” he asked, moving his hand so that his thumb swirled around my upper arm, right below my shoulder. “Were you not clawed here?”

My gaze snagged on the pale scar of the old Craven attack, just inside my elbow. I forced my gaze to where his thumb continued to glide in small circles. There were no fresh marks. No gaping wounds. I stared in wonder. “There’s…there’s no new scars.”

“There will be no new scars,” he said. “That is what I promised.”

He had. “Your blood…it’s amazing.”

And it was. My mind sluggishly delved into all that could be accomplished with it. The wounds that could be healed, and the lives that could be saved. Most people would be against drinking blood, but—

Wait.

My gaze snapped back to his. “You made me drink your blood.”

“I did.”

“How?”

“It’s one of those things that occur during maturity. Not all of us can…compel others.”

“Have you done it before? On me?”

“You probably wish you could blame your prior actions on that, but I haven’t, Poppy. I never needed nor wanted to.”

“But you did it now.”

“I did.”

“You don’t even sound remotely ashamed.”

“I’m not,” he replied, and a hint of a teasing grin appeared. “I told you that I would not allow you to die, and you would’ve died, Princess. You were dying. I saved your life. Some would suggest a thank you as the appropriate response.”

“I didn’t ask you to do it.”

“But you’re grateful, aren’t you?”

I snapped my mouth shut because I was.

“Only you would argue with me about this.”

I hadn’t wanted to die,