Page 66 of A Taste of Bliss

My stomach threatens to unleash itself on the ground. I put a hand over my mouth, taking several steps back and allowing Amelia to wrap me up in her arms. “Oh my stars…”

Tubbs holds Reese close and Blake puts an arm around my sister. Taser comes to a stop in front of me.

“Grim’s calling it in,” he says gently, meeting my eyes. I look past him and see Grim with his ear to his phone.

“At the festival, yeah. Get here quickly.” The way he’s speaking it almost seems like he called someone specific rather than the emergency line for the fae constabulary or the human police. Who would not be much help here.

“Was it warlocks?” I ask no one in particular. Not that I’ve ever seen a dead body before, but the way she’s been fed on—it isn’t something I’m familiar with.

“Possibly,” Grim says. He slips his phone back into his pocket and turns to address someone over my head. “Probably should get them home. I can stay and wait for the police.”

Mumbles of agreement sound around me and I let Taser lead me back home along with the rest of my friends.

Shock has numbed me, but as we walk back to the townhome, exhaustion joins in. I stumble through the front door of the townhouse and up to my room.

It’s not until I close the door behind me and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror that I realize I’m still wearing Wrath’s hoodie.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

BLISS

I wakeup with a pounding headache. I didn’t drink that much last night at the party—not more than usual anyways—but having used up every ounce of my magic on Simon and Wrath, I’m basically hungover. And that’s not to mention images of the dead woman in the green dress haunting my nightmares all night long. With a groan, and my eyes barely open, I stumble out of my room and down the stairs to the floor below.

Taser’s door is open just a crack and I slip inside, shame, lust, anticipation, the need to escape all swirling around in my stomach. I steel myself by going over my plan again. I need to somehow get Wrath’s tears. To do that, I need to get close to him again, which might require using Simon. Either way, I need to use my powers onsomeone. Which means I need to be well fed.

Step one, recharge. Step two, get close to Wrath somehow. I’ll figure out the tears later.

Lust stirs inside me, urging me further inside the room.

“Bliss?” Taser’s head barely lifts off the pillow as he regards me. I slip forward on soft feet and kneel on the side of the bed. I let the shoulder of my oversized tee slip off. His eyes trackthe movement and he shifts upwards, leaning his back on the headboard as he wets his lips.

I don’t hesitate. I don’t want to leave any time to second guess myself. I straddle his lap, and even though the sheets and covers are between us, I can feel him start to harden. “Bliss,” he says again, but it’s not a question. I lean forward, my lips meeting his in a lust-filled clash.

“I need you,” I tell him, lifting his shirt up and over his head.

He nods and gives into me, his hand slipping between us and into the sleep shorts I’m wearing. He meets no further resistance as his fingers slip inside me.

We kiss as I ride his hand, and before long, with my inner fae urging me to feed, I’m already coming apart for him. He groans as my hips buck and my pants come quicker.

He captures my mouth again with his lips and strokes his tongue in rhythm with his fingers as I come back down to myself.

Sex with Taser has never been particularly earth-shattering, but it has always been good.

But right now, as the quick high leaves my body, I find myself not entirely satisfied. Yeah, sex is usually the most satisfying, but usually any orgasm from another fae will replenish my power fairly well.

But this was different. I could feel a bit of power flowing to me, but not nearly enough.

My gaze meets his and I can see the lust in it. My eyes go wide as shame truly hits me. He’s still with Stacey. Oh stars.

I jump off him. How could he have let me do that?

How couldIhave just done that?

Am I truly so occupied with myself that I could forget?

I run from the room, even as he calls after me.

Amelia gives me a weird look when I sit down at the picnic table, a latte from a trendy-looking espresso truck in my hands. She has some sort of vegan breakfast scramble in front of her that she’s picking at, so I slide it towards me and shovel a few bites into my mouth, groaning a little when I realize it’s pretty fucking delicious.