Page 17 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

My heart constricted as pain exploded in my temples. His voice. His words. Despite the aching head, I knew I’d heard him say them before. And regardless of my chaotic thoughts, I knew he meant them.

Always and forever—

Back arching, I let out a cry as a crushing force clamped down on my skull, sending shockwaves through me that stole my breath.

His weight suddenly left me as he shifted back, lifting me with him to hold me in his lap.

Releasing my wrists, he clasped my cheek.

Ravenous hunger erupted and quickly overcame the faint charge of energy, but something else brimmed beneath the need, spreading like a wildfire and clawing at the very core of my being.

It was that twisted darkness. As my gaze met his, I had the violent and blood-soaked urge to sink my fangs into his throat. Not to feed.

But to kill.

Yes .

“You need to feed, Poppy. You’ll feel better once you do,” he coaxed, his voice a seductive lure. “I’m sure of it.” A moment passed. “Take what you need from me.”

Every cell in my body was starving. My gaze zeroed in on his throat.

I should take from him. Take everything.

My stomach plummeted with fear, and I pulled back.

The arm around my waist stopped me as a pained sound came from him.

“I need you to listen to me,” he said, his voice rough, his hand sliding from my cheek to the back of my head.

He guided me to his throat. My nose brushed his skin as I breathed in his scent.

“You need to feed, Poppy.” He cupped my cheek. “Please.”

That one word from him.

It undid me.

I could no longer stop myself. My breath danced over his pulse. A heartbeat passed, and then I sank my fangs into the vein.

A tingling sensation erupted and spread in my mouth when the first drop of blood hit my tongue. The taste…

Gods.

It was a jolt to my senses, tart and sweet as it coursed down my throat.

I swallowed as unease itched at the edges of my consciousness, faint and hollow.

But I was immediately lost in the warmth and texture of his blood.

Thick and warm, it hit the void in my chest first. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever tasted.

I wanted more. Needed more. I gripped the back of his neck.

His fingers curled into my hair as I drank deeply, my body trembling with each pull at his vein.

He held me close to him as I fed, and the fog in my mind began to dissipate, taking the crimson wisps with it.

I released my fangs, moaning as the cramps in my muscles started to subside, replaced by a pleasant thrill.

I shifted in his embrace so I straddled him.

“Gods, you have no idea how good it feels to have you in my arms,” he said, his voice thicker. “I don’t know what will come next, but no matter what we face, we’ll do it together.”

His fingers brushed my cheek and smoothed my hair back in a slow, comforting caress as he spoke.

His words were confusing at first, but his touch was a gift.

And I knew that touch was important because it had been forbidden to me for so long.

The sense of being here before surfaced as I drank from him.

Because I had been.

He had done this for me before. Had given me his vein when I was in need. And I knew I’d done the same for him after he went too long without feeding. We would do anything for each other.

“Because there is no way I’m going to lose you now.” His fingers moved on my scalp. “No way at all. I will always bring you back to me.”

His blood was like liquid fire, igniting a new heat and a different kind of instinct.

A noise, much like a purr, came from me, and his hips jerked in response.

I felt him against me, hard and thick. An intense curling sensation tightened low in my stomach.

Gods, the size of him… A rush of damp heat gathered between my thighs.

“Gods,” he groaned, shuddering against me. “What you do to me.” His fingers pressed into my waist. “Will you ever know? Truly?”

I knew I wanted more of him.

Truly.

I moaned, rising so I could feel him straining against where I ached for him, thick and hard against my core.

A heaviness settled in my breasts, and my nipples pebbled against his chest. Restlessly, I moved against him, fingers digging into his forearm.

He let out a low groan as I rubbed against the hard length of his arousal.

His hips flexed, and his hand landed on mine before sweeping down, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. His fingers pressed into my bottom.

I swallowed hard and started to see something through the fog.

Brown walls and the slow, steady rocking of a…

ship. I saw myself holding a journal bound in red, and I realized I was seeing one of his memories.

He was between my thighs, his eyes heated, and his lips glossy as he grinned up at me, a deep dimple in his right cheek.

“Gods,” he groaned as I continued to move against him. “I believe you know exactly what you do to me.” His hand moved back to my hip. “I can’t believe I am about to say this—” He groaned again, his hand fisting my gown. “But you need to behave yourself.”

Whatever else he said got lost in my desire for him, the need I had. For his blood. His body. To have the hard, thick length I ground against inside me. A deep guttural sound left him as I rocked against him, pressing my core against his length.

I ground against his erection, wishing there were no barriers between us, but I was too impatient.

Pleasure coiled tightly inside me. I stopped swallowing, and my movements became almost frantic.

The tension building between my thighs ratcheted up to a level that was almost painful. The friction wasn’t enough.

“I’ve got you,” he said, gripping my hip, but he made no move to remove the clothing between us.

I let go of his arm and reached down.

His fingers quickly wrapped around my wrist to stop me. “No.”

A whimper of frustration escaped.

“I want nothing more than to be inside you, to feel your heat when you come.” He pulled my hand as I groaned. “But that’s not going to happen right now,” he said, his voice thin and pained. “We don’t need to do that right now.”

But I needed that right now.

I needed .

“Trust me,” he bit out as he shifted, dragging me down just enough for his hard ridge to press firmly against that sensitive nub of nerves. “Take what you need.”

I cried out against his throat as a wave of shivery pleasure erupted from deep within me.

“There you go.” His hand tightened, digging into the gown, into my flesh, urging me to take what I wanted.

And I did.

He trembled as I moved against him, his cock hitting that spot with each roll of my hips.

He was breathing heavily, his entire body tense and hard against mine as a quaking inferno built within me, ready to burst. And when it did, the release was intense and overwhelming, crashing over me in pounding waves of ecstasy as I took what I needed. And kept taking.

I knew he would give me everything until his body grew limp—until there was no seed or blood left in him to give. And I would take it all. Pleasure spun itself up once more.

“Poppy,” he rasped.

That name.

Poppy .

Penellaphe.

That…was me. And his name…I knew it, didn’t I? They meant something together. They meant…

No .

My brows furrowed as I slowed against him. Yes. I was Poppy. Penellaphe. Queen. The fog in my mind started to dissipate, allowing bits of coherent thought to surface.

My body locked. I didn’t want to take it all because I…I loved him.

I loved Casteel .

All at once and without warning, I remembered myself.

I jerked back so fast I fell onto my rear.

He moved to snag me around the waist. Pressure swelled in my head as I panted for breath.

I looked at him, unable to ignore the thick ridge of his arousal straining against his breeches.

I forced my gaze upward as I hung half-suspended over the edge of the bed.

The skin of his throat was bruised around two puncture wounds that still seeped blood.

My gaze crawled over his features, noting the sharper angles of his cheeks and the tension gathered at his mouth. Shame and still-lingering lust scalded my skin as my gaze fixed on the wound I’d created.

“You haven’t taken nearly enough,” Casteel said, pulling me back against his chest. His hand went to my cheek, and then he was guiding me toward his throat once more. “You need to feed.”

I wanted to tell him that I remembered him. That I remembered us , but all I could force out was, “Cas.”

He froze for a heartbeat and then leaned back. His chest rose sharply, and his eyes widened, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper when he said, “Poppy.”

My lips parted, and a cold chill slithered through me as the pain ramped up in my head. I wanted to tell him there was something wrong with me, but the coldness invading me was spreading. The crimson haze returned, clouding my thoughts and edging out reason.

“Poppy,” he breathed, curling his fingers into my hair. “Do you—?”

My head snapped down. I sank my fangs into the flesh above the first wound. A hiss escaped him as I gripped the back of his neck. I drank deeply, pulling hard as my heart pounded.

Pain pricked at my senses, burning hot. It wasn’t mine. It was his. I was causing…

Keep taking.

His voice was strained when he spoke again. “I need you to release your fangs.”

I drank, mindlessly obeying the cold, dark need growing within me that spoke to the part of me that was the shadows in my blood, commanding me to keep feeding, to keep taking until I felt his heartbeat slow and flutter.

Until it ceased beating.

No, I didn’t want that.

I needed to stop, but I couldn’t. Oh, gods, I couldn’t stop.

Panic surged, scattering my thoughts into a chaotic frenzy.

My eyes snapped open. The blood-red haze wrapped in shadows had followed me into the chamber, rippling across the bed behind us and rising like vicious swords.

A smell flowed around us, overpowering the scents of pine, spice, and fresh citrus in the snow.

I knew that smell.

Lilacs.

Stale lilacs.

Death .

His voice was in my ear, sounding strained and distant. The hand buried in my hair trembled and then firmed. My grip on his neck tightened.

Just a little bit more. I just needed to keep taking until his body turned as cold as mine. Until I ended him. Death was in my blood, I was meant to do this, it was a part of my nature—

Tension seized my muscles as my thoughts echoed back to me. That…that didn’t feel right. Death wasn’t in my nature.

My attention shifted to the hand wrapped around the back of his neck.

At first, I didn’t understand what I was seeing.

Shadows tinged in silver and gold swirled beneath my skin.

My gaze followed the display of eather beneath my flesh and the wispy tendrils of essence seeping from my fingers into the air.

I squeezed my eyes shut as his hand slid to my cheek. His fingers pressed in firmly, attempting to unlock my jaw.

A loud crash shattered the silence of the chamber. His fingers dropped from my cheeks. “What…fuck?” he growled, his voice fading in and out as I remained latched to his throat.

Something hard and rough clamped down on my shoulder, and a sound rumbled from my chest in warning.

“Get your hand off her,” Casteel warned. “Now.”

A heartbeat later, my fangs ripped through his flesh as someone yanked me backward.

There was resistance as Casteel still held on to me, refusing to let go even though he’d held death in his embrace.

But he was either weakened just enough that he couldn’t hold on, or the pain of his flesh tearing had momentarily stunned him.

I lost my grip on him. Maybe because I hadn’t taken nearly enough blood.

Suddenly, I was airborne and flying backward. I smacked into the wall, and pain flared on the back of my head and down my spine, throwing me into the darkness.