grin against her shoulder as he clearly took great pride at what he found. Her body had answered his call with a rabid fervor. “You lie to me still, my Lady of Souls.”
“I’m not—”
“Shush.” His fingers began to explore her, and her words cut off in a soft cry. She was helpless to stop him, namely because she found no desire to do anything of the sort. His sharp claws brought an edge of danger that only served to quicken her heartbeat.
“I can’t…I can’t do this. It’s too much. Please—”
He let out a thoughtful hum as he rolled his tongue over the puncture wounds in her throat. “Allow me to bring you pleasure, Maxine. Allow me to do this much, and I will go no farther this night.”
When his thumb nudged over the sensitive bud at her core, she bit back a startled cry at what it did to her and at the sensations that ripped through her body. She felt as though she were made of molten lava, yet she felt as fragile as glass.
If he left her now, she was not certain what she might do. She was too scared to let it progress, but too desperate to let it end. I am a goddamn bloody fool.
She nodded.
He growled, a sound of hunger and desire, and she felt his fangs pierce her throat again, reopening the wound he had paid her. This time, there was no pain at all. She merely felt the pleasure rush over her.
As he drank, his hand deftly toyed with her body, careful not to prick her with his sharp nails. He was skilled. Too skilled. She whimpered and moaned beneath him, twisting weakly in his grasp.
When the purr began again, she was undone. She arched and writhed, her mind going pure white as ecstasy crashed over her in a wave. It was like nothing she had ever felt. No memory, no stolen dreams, could have ever compared to what washed over her. Her mind went reeling into bliss. She cried out.
“Vlad!”
She cried his name as her pleasure consumed her. Vlad shared in it like it was his own, and he nearly spent himself then, without ever being touched. He growled in frustration. This link of theirs—their shared minds and emotions—was as troublesome as it was amusing. While it was an intoxicating drug and a wonderful game, it challenged his control.
He nearly broke his promise. He wanted to split her wide, to bury himself in her volcanic heat, to feel that trembling and quivering body he held in his hands clench tight around him. He wanted to feel them joined in all ways at once—in body, in blood, and in soul. He wanted to take her like she had wished for in her dream.
Patience, you old bastard.
She was panting for air as he pulled his teeth from her throat and let his fingers cease their ministrations. She was twitching, her hands weakly tangled in his shirt. One of them had found its way to press against his chest, her palm over his beating heart.
It would still its tempo soon enough, but for now, he would relish in the warmth she shared. He had barely taken a mouthful of her. It had been enough.
It had certainly served its purpose.
She had asked for his bite. She had asked for his pleasure. She had wanted him. She was too afraid to do much more—yet—but he would lead her down that road by the hand. He knew now he would not have to drag her behind him.
He placed a kiss to her lips, knowing she would taste her own blood on him. To her, bitter and copper. To him, the bliss of life itself. But she did not turn away from him. She did not resist him. She kissed him back.
Beautiful girl. So innocent and yet so wicked in the same breath. I think I have become besotted with you.
If she heard him, he did not find that he cared. He was an open book to her—a library with all his tomes and pages thrown open for her to read. There was nothing he could hide from her. No sin of his that she could not see. He belonged to her. And she was kissing him back.
Perhaps that was what drew him to her now. Perhaps that was what brought him so much joy to watch her twist in his arms.
It was still midday. He could feel the position of the sun, and it was pulling on him