Page 56 of Little Wing (Shades of Fairhaven #1)

T he words that left Silas’s mouth required more than a moment to register.

Even after I asked him to repeat himself, I couldn’t believe what I heard.

This man—this gorgeous, generous, and strong man wanted me to claim him first. Realizing this, I wrapped my arms around his neck and adjusted my position in his lap as he was still sheathed inside me.

“Are you certain?” I asked, moving one hand to trace along the thin skin of his sun-kissed flesh. “Here?”

He nodded, gripping my hips to help resume the slow sway of our bodies. “Yes. Where it’ll scar and everyone can see.” His smile grew. Was he already imagining it? “I’d want everyone to know who you are to me.”

The thought of Silas wearing a scar given by me with pride satisfied me almost as much as our borderline animalistic lovemaking.

I traced my hands over his neck again and licked my bottom lip.

The last time I put my fangs on someone’s flesh to feed was Wesley, and that felt like an out-of-body experience.

It horrified me to not have the control to stop myself from draining every drop of his blood.

It was like I was caged by the very monster I longed to subdue with animal blood.

It worked me like a puppet, allowing me no control over what was happening.

When I touched Silas gently, my touch leaving nothing but traces of my love for him—I began to cry.

I was in control.

My lips pressed softly against his neck, feeling his gentle pulse against my mouth.

There was already so much pleasure and gratitude in this position alone, but even more so as he leaned into my touch, patiently waiting for me to begin.

I couldn’t hold back my smile against his chilled skin.

Every moment of weakness, of not feeling good enough, evaporated when I felt Silas’s hands cling to my naked back.

“Thank you,” I whispered as my tears fell between us. A moment passed and then I sank my fangs into him.

The first burst of blood that coated my fangs forced my eyes wide open.

It was like a technicolor explosion of emotions and sensations coating my body in goosebumps from my scalp all the way to my toes.

He tasted… exquisite. The flavor was unlike any blood I’ve ever savored.

This was bold like an aged wine, timeless, and mature, and all mine.

I moaned into his skin as I drank, wrapping my legs tighter around Silas’s waist to draw him closer to me, to keep our bodies chasing a high I didn’t think I could ever top.

Consuming human or animal blood was like drinking water.

We needed it to survive, to not succumb to bloodlust that truly brought out the animal in us.

But consuming a vampire’s blood? A lover’s blood?

I felt everything. His blood quenched a thirst that I couldn’t define until the moment I finally tasted him.

It was love.

I was starved of it for years, even with Wesley. Even as he made love to me and adored me, we were never meant to fit together.

But this moment with Silas? Nothing else in my existence felt more right than this .

When I moved my lips from his skin to lick up every bit of blood that streamed down his neck, I listened to his quiet groans of pleasure, not pain. Did this feel good for him, too? The puncture wound would soon close, leaving a scar of my own making to decorate his skin.

When I finally pulled away, Silas turned my face back to his and kissed the corner of my mouth, tasting his blood on my lips.

“Now you,” I urged him. “Consume me.”

As those words dripped from my mouth, I watched Silas observe me with an identical thirst in his silver eyes. A thirst not to survive, but to live and thrive. To live with a purpose that did not die with our mortality. To live knowing we were equal and devoted to one another.

Silas inspected my neck, his touch still so tender as he settled on a vacant spot. “Here?” he whispered, his voice delicate against my skin.

When I approved, he pulled back to look me in the eyes for a moment that stretched long enough to confirm that there was no doubt, no fear—this was it.

This decision to be claimed by him was my own. Silas would have me, consume me, just as I had consumed him. We would be bound to one another.

And so, he returned his soft lips to my neck and bit down—inhaling the stream of the aged crimson, tying my existence to his.

Whatever would come next, we would always have this moment, cemented in our eternity.