but I also didn’t want to become a Craven. “I won’t turn—”
“No,” he sighed, placing my arm back so it rested across my stomach. “I told you the truth, Poppy. The Atlantians did not make the Craven. The Ascended did.”
My heart skipped a beat as my gaze shifted to the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling. We weren’t in the cell. I turned my head, seeing a rustic bed with thick covers, and a small table beside it. “We’re in a bedchamber.”
“We needed privacy.”
I remembered hearing Kieran’s voice, but the room was now empty. “Kieran didn’t want you to save me.”
“Because it’s forbidden.”
It took me a few moments to remember what he’d told me before, and my stomach dropped. “Will I turn into a vampry?”
He laughed.
“What about that is funny?”
“Nothing.” The other side of his lips now tipped up. “I know you still don’t want to believe the truth, but deep down, you do. That’s why you asked that question.”
He had a point, but I didn’t have the intellectual or emotional capacity to go there. Not right now.
“To turn, you would require far more blood than that.” He returned to resting his head against the wall. “It would also require me to be more of an active participant.”
Muscles low in my body clenched, proving that they were not, in fact, soft. “How…how would you be more of an active participant?”
Hawke’s smile turned to smoke and became just as sinful as his blood. “Would you rather I show you instead of telling you?”
My skin flashed hot. “No.”
“Liar,” he whispered, eyes closing.
The warmth in my skin started to spread as if it were a spark, and I shifted, feeling less…floaty and more…weighted. I tried to ignore it. “Are…Naill and Delano okay?”
“They will be fine, and I’m sure they’ll be happy to know you asked about them.”
I doubted that, but something was happening, changing.
My body didn’t feel like it was mine, not when the heat was seeping into my muscles, flushing my skin, and pooling in my core. I imagined it was him—Hawke’s blood slowly making its way through every part of my body.
He was inside me.
I felt out of control, just like the night in the Blood Forest, and when we were in the room above the tavern.
My chest suddenly ached and became heavy, but it wasn’t from pain, lack of air, or coldness. No. It was like when Hawke had touched me, when he’d stripped me bare and kissed me—kissed me everywhere. I felt loose. My insides tingled, just as my skin hummed. Razor-sharp lust pulsed straight through me, a dark desire that burned.
Hawke’s nostrils flared as he inhaled, and then his chest seemed to stop moving. His features were still hazy, but the longer I stared at him, the hotter I felt.
“Poppy,” he bit out.
“What?” My voice sounded full of honey.
“Stop thinking what you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
His chin lowered, and his stare was a caress. “I know.”
Shivering, I shifted my hips, and Hawke’s arm tightened around me. “You don’t know.”
He didn’t respond, and I wondered if he could feel the liquid fire in my veins, and the damp heat of my core.
Biting down on my lip, I tasted his blood and moaned, closing my eyes. “Hawke?”
He made a sound, and maybe he said something, but it was indecipherable.
I stretched, taking quick, shallow breaths. The coarse shirt and breeches scraped my skin and the sensitive, hardened tips of my breasts. “Hawke,” I breathed.
“Don’t,” he said, stiffening. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.”
There were a lot of things I shouldn’t do or say, but everything in me was focused on the way my entire body burned and throbbed with need. My hand moved, sliding up my stomach, over the ruined, clawed shirt, to my breast. Guided only by instinct and need, I closed my fingers over the shivery flesh, molding it to my palm. An aching shudder worked its way through me.
“Poppy,” Hawke ground out. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, back arching as I stroked myself through the thin, worn shirt. “I’m on fire.”
“It’s just the blood,” he said thickly, and instinct told me he was watching me, and that made me all the hotter. “It’ll pass, but you should…you need to stop doing that.”
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My thumb rolled over the pebbled hardness, and I sucked in air. It reminded me of what Hawke had done, but he’d used more than just his hands. I wanted him to do that again. An