Sweeping the brush back through his hair, she followed the loose center part that had formed. With each pull, his neck muscles corded to keep his head in place.
Cormia's fangs sprang out of the roof of her mouth.
The instant they did his eyes flashed open. Brilliant yellow met her stare.
"You're hungry," he said in a strangely guttural tone.
She let her hand with the brush fall to her side. Her voice gone, she simply nodded. In the Sanctuary, the Chosen didn't need to feed. Here on this side, however, her body demanded blood. Which was why she'd been struggling with lethargy.
"Why didn't you tell me before now?" His head tilted to the side. "Although if it's because you don't want me, that's okay. We can find someone else for you to use"
"Why... why wouldn't I want you?"
He tapped the artificial leg. "I am not whole."
True, she thought sadly. He was not whole, although it had nothing to do with him missing part of a limb.
"I didn't want to impose," she said. "That is the only why of it. You are comely to me with or without your lower leg."
Surprise flickered over his features, and then an odd pumping sound came out of him... a purr. "It's no imposition. If you want to take my vein, I'll give it you."
She stood motionless, held still by the look in his eyes and the way the features of his face changed as something came into his expression that she'd never seen on anyone's face before.
She wanted him, she thought. Badly.
"Kneel," he said in a dark voice.
As Cormia sank down onto her knees, the brush fell out of her hand. Without a word, the Primale leaned into her, his huge arms going around her. He didn't draw her to him. He undid her hair, all of it, the chignon and then the braid.
He growled as he fanned her hair out around her shoulders, and she became aware that his body was trembling. Without warning, he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into his throat.
"Take from me," he demanded.
Cormia let out a hiss that sounded like a cobra, and before she knew what she was doing, she nailed her fangs into his jugular. As she struck, he barked out a curse and his body jumped.
Holy mother of Words... His blood was a fire, first in her mouth then down in her gut, an all-powerful wave that filled her out from the inside, giving her a strength she'd never known before.
"Harder," he bit out. "Suck me..."
She ran her arms under his and sank her nails into his back and took great pulls from his vein. She grew dizzy - no, wait, he was pushing her backward, taking her down onto the floor. She didn't care what he did to her or where they ended up, because his taste was all-consuming as she consumed him. All she knew was the fountain of his life at her lips and down her throat and in her belly, and that was all she needed to know.
Robes... her robes were being pushed up to her hips. Thighs... hers parting, this time hers parting by his hands...
Yes.
Phury's brain was up on a shelf somewhere, way out of the reach of his body, way out of sight. He was all instinct with his female's feeding, his cock on the verge of coming, his sole focus on getting inside of her before it did.
Everything about her, about him, was suddenly different. And urgent.
He needed himself in her in as many ways as possible, and not just the temporary kind of in that sex provided. He needed to leave himself behind, mark her up good, get his blood and his come in her, and then repeat the process again tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. He had to be all over her so that every fucking asshole on the planet knew that if they got near her they were going to tangle with him until they spit their teeth out and needed splints for their arms and legs.
Mine.
Phury yanked the robing out of the way of her sex and - Oh, yeah, there it was. He could feel the heat come up and -
"Fuck," he groaned. She was wet, welling up, overflowing.
If there had been any way to keep her at his vein while he went down on her, he would have shifted around in a heartbeat. The best he could do was whip his hand