Page 45 of Liar Witch

Rysen has other ideas. I’m dragged away from the open window and yanked backwards against his chest before I even know what’s happening.

His head nuzzles through my hair, finding my neck with unerring accuracy.

He lets out a tortured moan.

But he doesn’t bite.

He stays like that: arms banded around my breasts, head buried in my hair, his face crushed against my jugular. Breathing.

Nothing else.

If not for the awkward angle, I might almost have said it was a sweet moment.

That’s when the door swings open, revealing Nos and Kier, standing there in all their glory. Noster is clutching a cutlass with a wicked looking edge, and Kier’s blade is glowing with frost. The metal gives off a visible chill as it moves towards us, leaving a trail of white mist in its path.

The instant he scents them, Rysen tenses.

“Don’t make us do this, Ry.” Nos says, moving towards the two of us.

Kier’s eyes trace over me and widen slightly as he sees just how close his friend is to my neck.

“Stay where you are,” I whisper.

Kier takes another step forward, eyes locked with Rysen’s. The vampire growls, arms tightening until they almost cut off my airflow.

“Kier,” I grimace, “Stay there. I don’t think he’s going to hurt me.”

The fae looks at me as though I’ve gone insane.

Maybe I have. A bloodlust crazed vampire is holding me captive with his fangs less than an inch from a major vein and I’m almost certain he doesn’t mean to hurt me.

“Trust me,” I whisper, before turning closer to Rysen.

His grip tightens for a second before he realises what I’m trying to do. The iron bars of his arms loosen just enough for me to turn in place until I’m facing him.

Or rather, his chest.

It’s harder to extract my arms and wind them around his neck, but I manage.

I can’t budge his gaze from Kier and Nos, though.

“Hey, big guy, I’m down here,” I mumble. “Quit glaring at them and look at me.”

Rysen doesn’t oblige. Another wave of cramps hits me, freezing in place with a tiny hiss of pain.

Goddess, I want to be back in bed. In a ball. Surrounded by chocolate and warmth. Hopefully with more of those fae dust sweets and a few bottles of wine.

“Come on, Ry,” I whisper, pressing the lightest of kisses to his collarbone. “Stop baring your fangs at them, they’re your crew.”

Chapter Twelve

Rysen

Her words are hard to understand. Despite the lucidity her presence brings, my mind is still completely attuned to the scent ofmineand the threat lurking just beyond her.

Her blood. Goddess. Herblood.

It fills my lungs, driving me mad. I’m caught between bloodlust, desire and the most violent protective urges I’ve ever experienced.