Page 61 of Loreblood

“Master Lukain . . .” I croaked.

He dipped his head closer. “I denied him. Said you weren’t an option. He offered a great sum of money, power in his court. But you’re a fighter, not a breeding mare. And you’re mine.” Closer still he leaned, until our lips were mere inches apart. His eyes skimmed over my face, taking in every inch. “You are beautiful, you know.”

“I never thought so.”

“I know so. I see it every day. I have for years.”

My lips opened but no words came out.

Master Lukain gently pressed his lips against mine. My eyes closed when he kissed me, a content hum escaping me and seeping into his waiting mouth. His tongue lightly batted against mine as our lips parted and the kiss became fervent and needy much quicker than I had anticipated.

Then again, I could have never anticipated falling for my half-vampire slavemaster. The kind of man Father Cullard had warned me about as a child, when it was actually the Father himself I should have feared.

My thoughts drifted away as I pressed the kiss deeper. I wrapped my arms around his narrow middle, tightening against him until my peaked breasts pushed against his chest. The coldness of his leather garb brought much-needed friction that made me wet between the legs. A muffled moan rumbled out of me.

He sucked up my sounds, my touch, and dominated me with his graceful embrace, his darting tongue, and his firm hold on my body, lifting me into an upright position in the bed.

He kissed me harder until my lips felt bruised. Then he pulled back with a look of regret. “Your wounds.”

“Can’t feel them,” I answered, shooting him a half-lidded smile.

“Even so. I could get Old Endolf to concoct something to heal them once we’re home. But . . .”

“But what, Master?”

“. . . Nothing will heal your injuries faster than the blood of a vampire. Even a half-breed like me.”

My body tightened. His eyes moved from my face to his wrist, where his hand cupped the back of my head. “Not if you don’t wish—”

“Yes,” I answered before he could finish. “I do.”

His smile flickered. “That’s a good girl.”

The words, the idea, the notion of drinking from Master Lukain, it was everything I desired. Everything I needed. I didn’t even care if he was lying to me—if half-vampire blood did nothing to heal my wounds. That wasn’t the point. I wanted to bepartof him.

He put his wrist to his mouth, hiding his lips and fangs behind his flesh. His eyes never left mine, the dark pools flaring brighter as the sound of splitting flesh filled the space between us.

“Drink, little grimmer,” he muttered, and then moved his wrist to my face. Beads of ruby-red dripped down his forearm.

I slanted my head and suctioned my lips to his cut, closing my eyes as the iron taste of his warm blood slipped past my tongue and down my throat like blessed nectar.

My world became dim then, hazy, lost in the throes of lust pulsing between my legs and in the slick warmth in my mouth. I felt nothing likehealingat first—no thoughts of my injuries at all.

Only a ravenous hunger formore.

He pulled back before I could lose myself completely. I shamefully nipped at him, head darting forward.

Lukain chuckled, watching as blood trickled down my chin. He wiped the streak away with the pad of his thumb, licking himself clean. He resituated himself on the edge of the bed to have a more frontward position with me.

I noticed the throbbing between his legs. It looked painful behind his leathers, constrained like that, and my heart was greedy for this man. I was not in my right mind.

My hand found its way between his legs to press against the thickening bulge. “I want you, Master.”

“That’s good, little grimmer. Because I am going to take you.”

“I’m begging you to, sir.”

My hand dipped inside the waistband of his pants. I clutched his warm, thick cock in my hand. It was scalding and—