Page 9 of It's in His Bite

I was lost. I settled my lips over the punctures and drank. Each intoxicating swallow was the sweetest nectar, a balm that soothed the biting pain of the thirst more effectively than any human blood could. In a matter of seconds, the sandpaper burn in my throat was gone entirely. And yet I continued to drink, needing to take her deeper, needing to taste her until she was embedded in my bones.

God, it had been decades since I had allowed myself to drink from another preternatural. The memory paled in comparison to Harlowe’s sweet, delectable blood.

And with every pull and suckle of my mouth, her body strung tighter. The aphrodisiac nature of my bite overrode her distaste of me, needling deeper the longer I kept her vein open and pulled her blood into my body. A sick, horrid part of me slowed my swallows, forcing the feeding longer so I could keep her next to me, keep her skin against my lips, keep the pleasure growing in her body.

Her breathing grew choppy as she let her head fall back, her eyes fluttering closed. Her fisted hand relaxed into my hair, twisting strands around her fingers. It was a proprietary grip, holding me against her skin. I couldn’t hold back the hum of satisfaction at proof my bite was pleasuring her. Even if it was only biology, even if it would fade in the hour after this forced feeding ended. In this moment, I could pretend it was her arousal in truth, that every subtle adjustment of her legs and and scratch of her nails was fueled by her wanting me and not the base response to a vampire’s bite.

Just like her blood, I drowned in the fantasy.

It wasn’t until her grip on my hair slackened that I pulled away with a rueful sigh. I swiped my tongue over both punctures, making damn sure they were fully sealed. No way was I going to leave her with a mess like that dumbass prick. Herhand slipped out of my hair as I straightened, coasting down my arm.

Her eyes were half-lidded, hazy with desire. Her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed even darker than before. I couldn’t look away as I licked the last drop of her blood from my lip, not ready to lose the strawberry taste. Her nails dug into my forearm, and then her wrist twisted out of my hold.

I had one heartbeat to hate myself, to reel in disgust at my assumption she would let my bite sway her toward wanting me. One heartbeat, and then she had my palm against her lips, her eyes still locked on mine. A small flick of her tongue, and I groaned. I let myself trace her lip with my thumb and palm her cheek.

A small smile tilted her lips, and her eyes closed entirely.

No, I couldn’t let this happen.

It was just her natural reaction to me feeding from her. The last thing I wanted was to have her wake up tomorrow ashamed that she succumbed to all of this.

I gently freed my hand from her grip. Her lips drew into a pout, but she didn’t look at me.

“Landon?” Even her voice was lower, breathier. “Landon, please.”

Bloody hell, I shouldn’t. Taking her blood was one thing. I could explain that to her father, could make him understand the need. He would, too. As irritated as he would inevitably be that his daughter was the host, he would understand the impossibility of waiting. Every vampire had a story about needing to feed in the worst situation.

But this? Touching Harlowe, sating the need my drinking has stoked in her body? In no possible scenario would he forgive me this. Harlowe’s nails bit into my forearm as she tried to drag me back to her. Her eyes fluttered open. The bright, heavy look stole my breath.

There was no worry, no hesitation. There was only a woman who craved, who squirmed in her seat because she needed an orgasm, desired it with every cell in her body.

“Kiss me,” she ordered on a whisper.

“Ah Christ.”

I cradled her face in my hands, stroking my thumbs across her cheek bones, counting each freckle dotted across them. She twisted a hand under my sweater, her palm spreading across my stomach.

My words were nothing more than a growl fueled by a year’s worth of unholy craving.

“Fuck it.”

And then I slammed my lips to hers.

Chapter Seven

Harlowe

Landon Rhodes was kissing me.

The thought still felt impossible, but his lips were soft and full against my own. They carried that faint taste of mint and strawberries, like a summer cocktail. It was his hands cupping my face, his knees wedging my legs apart as he crowded fully into me, his fangs that scraped against my lips as his tongue delved into my mouth and explored without hesitation.

My body burned with need, long, pulsing waves that built on each other until no coherent thought existed beneath them. I was drowning in the desire. It was so consuming, it became all I had ever known, all I would ever know. Despite all the feedings I’d been a part of, all the vampires I’d given my vein to over the last six years, the depth of the bite’s induced arousal was shocking.

It had never once felt like this.

Landon ran his tongue along my lip as he pulled away. I couldn’t stop the whine that crept up my throat. I wasn’t done, couldn’t be done. I needed more of him. I needed him to touchme and slake this awful need he’d awoken that I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from.

Bloody hell, she’s too damn sweet.