Page 25

Adrian began to remove his armor, and I shifted to the bed, lowering myself onto my stomach, much as I had done earlier with Ana.

I watched as Adrian undressed, and as he went to remove his breastplate, my eyes settled on the large puncture at the center of it.

“You were hurt,” I said.

Adrian’s eyes found mine.

“Were you worried for me?”

His question made me angry.

“Of course. You are not the only one who fears losing someone.”

Adrian said nothing, and I watched as he set his teeth, jerking the remaining armor from his body. As it fell to the floor, I saw that the skin on his chest was shredded. His body had healed around the metal of the plate, and even as it bled before my eyes, it healed again.

Adrian did not clean the blood away. Instead, he pressed his hand into it and approached me, naked, smoothing it over my back. I drew in a breath. It wasn’t painful but also not pleasant—it felt as though my skin was prickling—so I focused on the way Adrian’s fingers moved down my back, slow and sensual.

When he bent to kiss my shoulder, I knew my wounds had healed. I rolled onto my back, facing Adrian. His eyes burned as they trailed down my body.

When he met my gaze again, he spoke.

“This will hurt,” he said.

I rose to sit and gave him my arm.

“I trust you,” I said.

He kissed me and then anchored his hands beneath my knees, pulling me closer. I wrapped my legs around his waist, tight, focusing on the feel of his cock nestled against my heat, hoping that would distract me enough.

“Rest your head against my shoulder,” he said as he held my injured arm. “And if you need to, bite me.”

It was the only warning he gave before he sank his teeth into the hound’s wound.

I screamed.

I had not been prepared for the pain, though I did not know how I could have prepared for it. It was acute, sharp, burning. With each pull, Adrian filled his mouth, then he would release me and spit the blood and venom on the floor. I tightened my hold on him, digging my nails into his skin, and each time he bit into me, I bit him, though I did not break skin.

I didn’t know how long he worked, but eventually I felt nothing beyond the pain in my head. When Adrian finished, he dropped my arm and tangled his hand in my hair, kissing my face and holding me close.

The last thing I remembered was how he looked at me as he guided me to my back—completely and utterly haunted.

Later I woke, my wounds no longer hurting, but I was covered in sweat and desperate to fuck.

I arched my back, parted my legs, and slid my fingers into my heat. A strangled sound escaped my mouth, my head pressing hard into the pillow. I was so hot, so wet, my fingers did nothing to bring pleasure.

Frustrated, I rose and rolled onto Adrian. I straddled him, sliding my heat over his swollen length. He groaned, his hands going to my thighs as I kissed him, driving my tongue into his mouth while he helped me move over his cock.

“I need you,” I said, releasing his mouth and guiding him inside me.

As he drove into my heat, he drew in a sharp breath. “Fuck!” His hands dug into my skin. “Yes.”

He rose, one arm around my waist, the other on my shoulder. He used the leverage to set a pace that made my muscles tighten around him. I moaned deep and guttural. My hands threaded into his hair and pulled, forcing his head back so I could mold my mouth to his.

When he broke free, he spoke. “Your skin is on fire.”

“Don’t stop,” I begged, kissing him again.

I was hot, but so was Adrian. Our bodies had grown slick together in our desperation to find release.