Page 87 of Savage Thirst

It wasn't just carnal. It was transformative. Even without biting, without tasting her blood, I felt her. As if she were the first drop of spring rain after centuries of drought. The kind of life vampires dream of but can never taste. And yet, I tasted it. Still taste it.

Honey. Rose petals. Fresh earth and sunlight.

I want more.

Hell. I wantallof her.

I'm the first to wake, as always. Discipline doesn't sleep in, even when tangled in desire. I slip out of bed quietly to give her space. Let her breathe.

Kayden stirs a heartbeat later, eyes opening as if sensing my movement. Always the predator, even half-asleep.

And then Sage blinks awake.

She looks radiant. Disheveled, glowing, bare in every way that matters. Like a flower just beginning to open toward morning light.

Her gaze flicks between us. I see it—the flicker of hesitation forming.

But Kayden, gods bless his reckless charm, doesn't let it settle.

"You know," he says, reaching for her hand with lazy confidence, "the morning after is always the most dangerous. That's when doubt creeps in, when you start asking yourself if it was a mistake."

He turns that crooked smirk on her, the one that's gotten him out of more trouble than it should have. "But I've got no regrets, sunshine."

It works. The tension in her shoulders melts a little. Her mouth softens.

He's quicker with feelings than I am. Faster to speak. Sometimes too fast. But right now, it's exactly what she needs.

"No regrets, Sage," I add, my voice even and certain. "Now let's go get your crystal."

She gives us a bright smile that cuts straight through my ribs. And then she stretches, stands, gloriously unashamed, and pads toward the bathroom without a word. Her tattoos curve across her body like inked stories, and I swear I feel my blood thrum with the memory of our hands on her skin.

Kayden and I both watch her go.

She knows it too. The sway of her hips, the unhurried steps. She knows exactly what she's doing.

The bathroom door clicks shut.

Kayden exhales and turns his attention to me.

"So," he says, voice low and edged with something like wonder. "We got ourselves a nymph."

I narrow my eyes. "She's not ours."

It was one night. One choice. A need met. Nothing more. At least not yet.

"She hasn't said she'll stay," I add.

His jaw tenses. I see it in his body, the flare of resistance. Kayden doesn't handle uncertainty well. He's desire and instinct—he wants to claim what he wants and be done with it.

"Kayden," I warn.

"Brother," he says, raising one brow in that familiar, baiting way. Testing me.

I don't bite. Not when we're standing in the uncertain space between what just happened and what comes next.

Because that choice and that path are hers.

Breakfast unfolds smoother than expected.