Page 45 of Immortal Bastard (The Order of Vampires)

Her physical instincts and hunger drove her enough that she required no compulsion to feed, he merely held the command for her to sleep.

He gripped her hip as her thighs pressed tight. He tried to still her rocking motions as her body chased additional friction. It was common for mates to bond when they fed and her immortal blood hungered for such a connection—as did his. He wanted to give her what she craved, but knew—deep down—she would not want that, so he tensed and held his breath, trying not to draw any satisfaction from the way her body gyrated against his.

There was no denying how much he wanted her. She was the other half of his soul, the light to his darkness, the answer to his prayers. Denying himself access to her body was a sort of masochistic torture he hadn’t anticipated, but more than anything, he wanted to be the mate she deserved, the mate she wanted.

He believed himself an honorable male and deeply craved her to see him as such, despite their rocky start. He would not take from her what she did not consciously offer. But he would always provide for her and protect her, no matter what she believed she needed and no matter how much she hated him.

Unfortunately, his body was not aligned with his thinking and the longer she pulled from his vein the more his cock hardened. She drew his release closer to the surface with each precious sip of his blood.

“Delilah…” He breathed, pressing his lips into her shoulder and forcing his mouth to remain closed.

Unconscious of her actions, she greedily took from his vein, the result of not feeding properly for days. Ecstasy, a natural consequence of feeding, amplified his pleasure through the link they shared. Soon enough he’d have a mess of his own to clean.

Her body responded to the sensual process, and he could scent her arousal, hear her quiet purr. He ached to meet those carnal needs as well, but he would not—not until she came to him willingly of sound mind.

Mating was their most sacred vow. The act went hand in hand with feeding, and while he did not touch her in any lustful manner, her moans increased and her muscles tightened until her body finally climaxed. To his shame, his release naturally followed.

Her delicate finish was innocent and affirming, reminding him that much patience was needed on his part. He traced a finger over her hair, in awe of her perfect ear, as she continued to gently feed.

“That’s right, little one. Let me take care of all your needs.”

Fragile tremors shook her body as she remained asleep. This was what she did to him. She stripped him down until he was defenseless against her beauty and touch, leaving him with the mess of a young male in his lap.

The desire to earn her trust and true, conscious affection carved a hole in his heart. A jagged breath escaped and he shivered as her tongue reflexively closed the puncture wound at his neck, another natural instinct that came to her as effortlessly as breathing.

Reluctantly, he lowered her back to the bed. She showed no adverse response to the blood. On the contrary, her flesh was once again rosy and her eyes no longer appeared sunken in.

A droplet of his blood remained on the curve of her lower lip. Leaning down, he licked away the trace. She sighed and he groaned, forcing himself to leave the bed and clean away the mess he’d made of himself. When he returned, she lay exactly as he left her.

She was a portrait of perfection. A masterpiece. His pintura. He paused in the doorway, gratitude overwhelming him as he breathed in the image of her sleeping soundly on his bed. Then her eyes flashed open wide—fully dilated—and he knew he was in trouble.

CHAPTER 7

He was watching her. She sensed him before seeing him, could feel him admiring her while she slept. Her eyes flicked open, finding his tall form filling the doorway. Her blood boiled.

Him. He did this.

The lethargic shock that overtook her these past few days had abated. In its place seethed an uncontainable rage.

A low growl broke the near silence, the uncharacteristic rumble coming from her throat. Beneath the primal snarling, she heard the insects crawling under the foundation of the house, the flap of birds’ wings overhead, the snap of a branch, and the snick of a matchstick catching flame. She could scent the sulfur burning, feel the tingle of the sunlight damaging her skin through the glass of the window, and taste a strange copper tang on her tongue.

She glared at him, pouring every bit of hatred into her gaze.

“You’re awake.”

She sensed his surprise and a trace of something else. Fear? Uncertainty? Good. He should be afraid.

Time stretched and yawned within every passing second, moving slower than usual as her mind gathered and stored every transient detail. Baring her teeth, she panted through her fury, her muscles vibrating with the urge to wound him. He did this to her.