Page 67 of Blood Day

Words whispered through my mind as well. Forbidden ones that begged him to take me back to his palace.Justone more night. Let me escape this existence for a little bit longer. Please.

But my voice failed me.

I couldn’t speak.

His touch shifted to my cheek, his gaze falling to my mouth as though he was waiting for whatever I might say.

Nothing came. No air. No appropriate words. No cohesive sentence. No confession or apology or whatever he needed to hear. I just stood before him like a worthless pet, utterly lost to my emotions and the confusion of the last twenty-four hours.

“Already wilting,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the hollow beneath my eye. “It’s a cruel world, little flower. I wish you were born in a different time.”

He pressed his lips to mine before I could even fathom a reply. It wasn’t like the other kisses we’d shared. This one seemed final somehow, almost cold.

At least until his tongue slid into my mouth.

His palm moved to the back of my neck, his grip harsh as he commanded me with his touch. I melted into him, lost to the sensation of his presence.

He was so strong, so domineering, it was impossible to think of anything else while he held me in his arms.

Which was why I swallowed automatically, completely under his thrall.

Ambrosia, some part of me registered.He’s giving me his blood again.

Not copious amounts like he had from his wrist, but just a little from his tongue. Enough to renew my spirits and stroke my senses back to life. I was still high on his essence from before; this just emboldened the sensations and made them that much deeper.

Was he trying to remind me of our secret? Or was he testing my resolve to remain quiet?

I wasn’t sure.

And my mind refused to process any potential responses to the questions.

All I wanted was him, his mouth, his taste, histongue.

But he pulled away, breaking our kiss, and slid his lips along my jaw to my neck.

His fangs pierced my throat in the next instant, making my legs buckle from the unexpected intrusion. A muscular band—his arm—wrapped around my back, holding me upright as his opposite hand remained around my nape.

I succumbed to him, allowing him to drink, dazed from the flavor of his blood and the pleasure of his bite.

My veins burned.

My stomach clenched.

And my thighs rubbed together to create necessary friction.

I barely recognized myself, this wanton version of me so different from the one who’d wanted to be a Vigil. She still existed deep down. Maybe. I’d search for her later.

Master Cedric’s leg slid between mine, his muscular thigh pressing into my heated center and giving me the pressure I needed.

I moaned.

He growled.

Then the mattress of my bed met my back, startling me back into reality.

Master Cedric still had one leg between mine with his knee planted on the bed, but his arm was no longer around my back. His hands were on my shoulders instead, pinning me beneath him as he pressed his mouth to my ear.

“Careful,” he whispered. “Prospects don’t react.”