Page 168 of Obsidian and Frost

“More than just withstand it,” I said, smirking at him, as I slicked my tongue all over the bat, lapping up every drop as my eyes locked with his. “Relish it.” I tossed the bat across the room and vamp sped right in front of him. “Yourblood. Andyourreaction to this now and the feed the other day.”

His hands shot out and he grasped my throat in a brutal grip.

And then he swept us up in a cloud of teleportation.

We rematerialized inside his apartment—theplace I’d barged into and confronted him at not long ago, my emotions barely checked.

Now they were barely checked for a whole other reason.

Before I could get my bearings, he slammed me up against the wall, squeezing my throat hard enough to make me gag.

I grinned as his eyes lit up.

The shocks kept on coming as he leaned in and breathed me in, his lips brushing my cheek. His free hand fondled my hair, then he slowly trailed it down over my collarbone, my pecs, my torso, covering the expanse of my shirt beneath my hoodie, all the while trapping me against the wall with his Immortal strength.

Need clawed at me and had me undulating against the wall, leaning into him setting dozens of nerve endings alight with his explorative, yet unsure touch.

He stilled, his eyes widening as he took in my hard cock pushing noticeably against the confines of my jeans.

“Is this the blood? Or is my touch… enjoyable?” His gaze flicked to his hand wrapped around my throat. “Or is it the dominant hold? You like to be checked and guided during sexual interactions,wild one?”

“All of the above,” I told him, smirking. “Wild one?”

“It is fitting for you, is it not?”

I laughed, but it got caught in my throat when he suddenly released me and drew a deep gash across his left wrist with his magic.

Opening his vein.

For me.

Because of me.

“Shit,” I choked as the scent of his blood hit the air, infusing me like a whirlwind of intensity now we were away from that spell.

He guided it to my mouth and gave a nod, that enraptured look on his face again.

I grasped his wrist, our fingers touching and eliciting a gasp from him.

And then I licked the rivulets of blood already starting to drip over his skin.

“Hades…” he rasped, staring at my tongue lapping at his blood.

A snarl broke free from me and I dropped my fangs, then sank them into his flesh.

He grabbed my bicep with a shaking hand, his eyes rolling back in his head, a deep groan sounding from him and rolling the fuck through me.

Sweetest, most delicious, and most intoxicating blood ever.

It got all the more intoxicating in a different way—the same way he’d given to me that first time, just way more subtly—as he suddenly ground back against me.

I looked up at him as I continued to feed slow and easy from his wrist, and my gut twisted.

Confusion, frustration, and a deep ache emanated from him.

He was experiencing things he wasn’t used to. And not only the feed.

It was clear in that moment that he really didn’t know what to do with himself.