Page 28 of Savage Thirst

I grin, slow and wicked, letting the weight of it settle between us.

"The lesson I mentioned earlier. Consequences. For your very…colorfulbehavior. A punishment."

She flinches, just a flicker, before lifting her chin in defiance. "Punishment?" she echoes.

"Mhm," I hum, nodding slowly. "Exactly, sweetheart. Punishment. You act out…"

I take a step closer, lowering my voice.

"…I correct."

"But… what kind of punishment?" she asks. Her voice wavers, but there's a rougher edge there now.

She bites her lower lip, dragging her teeth across it like she doesn't know it's the kind of move that makes it ten times harder to behave.

I clench my fist, channeling every ounce of willpower not to press her against the wall and let my instincts take over.

Instead, a slow and dangerous smile curves my lips.

"I'm glad you asked."

I close the space between us, my hand circling her waist, pulling her flush against me. She's warm, soft in all the ways I remember—infuriating and irresistible.

My other hand trails down her back, fingers skating over the curve of her ass before resting there, firm and possessive.

"I'll take you over my knee," I whisper against her ear, "and spank that pretty, defiant little ass until you forget every lie you've told… until all you can feel is me and the slow, exquisite regret of every sin you've committed."

And maybe, if she begs just right, I'll give her more.

But for now, I wait. Let her decide how far down the rabbit hole she's willing to go with the monster she nearly killed.

Gods, I hope she picks wrong.

Sage

A shiver rips through me at his words. It starts low in my spine, curling up as his body presses into mine like we're two pieces of some dark, forbidden puzzle. Everything in me tightens, my skin flushed, heart racing. And what's rising inside me isn't fear.

Well, notjustfear. It's want. Actual, visceral want.

This is wrong. So wrong. Absolutelywrong.

He's a vampire. A goddamn creature of death. I was taught to see his kind as abominations. You run, or you kill. That's it. There is no middle ground.

Definitely no getting draped over a gorgeous vampire's knee like some misbehaving schoolgirl. And definitely not this teasing, this tension, this heady want coiled in his voice and pulsing through his body like he's barely restraining himself.

But that's the point—he is restraining it.

They aren't supposed to feel. Supposed to be walking corpses wrapped in a skin of lies. Masks built well enough to pass among humans, feed off them, manipulate them. But Kayden doesn't feel like a mask. He feels real. Asher too.

Are they anomalies, or is everything I was taught… wrong?

"Tick-tock, sunshine," Kayden murmurs, low and lethal. "I won't be waiting until morning for your choice. Keep stalling, and I'll make it for you."

His eyes pin me, searing into mine. That dominant, cocky glint laced with something darker, something that shouldn't make me ache, but does. There's a promise in that gaze, sharp as fangs and just as dangerous: he'll either unravel me with pleasure or break me on the edge of pain. Maybe both.

There's a rational move here. I could lie, maybe, but I already know he reads me too well for that. I could tell him the truth. But even thinking about it cracks something in my chest. It's too vulnerable for me to admit.

I tried hard to shake the memory of what that night felt like. That forbidden thrill, the one impossible moment where everything—guilt, ache, orders, mission, who I was supposed to be—disappeared the second he touched me. How much he made me feel.