Page 72 of Blood Match

Not yet…

I’m savoring this. Because she’s sweet. So fucking pure.

And yet, she’s moving with an abandon that I sense is unusual for her. Her body molds to mine as I pull her against me, my lips still moving over the heated skin of her neck. My hands roam over her body, exploring the curves and contours with a hunger that’s as much about the woman in my arms as it is about the blood that courses through her veins.

Her breasts are full and lush in my palms as I glide my hands up and cup them. Rowan had been adamant about keeping this clinical, about drawing a line between the physical act of feeding and any form of intimacy. But as she rubs against me, her body undulating with a need that mirrors my own, I can’t help but feel a sense of triumph. She may have set boundaries for herself, but her body knows what it wants – knows what it needs.

“Darick,” she whispers, her voice thready with need. She turns her head to the side, exposing the long, slender column of her neck. “Do it. Drink from me.”

I don’t need any further encouragement. My fangs elongate, piercing the tender flesh of her throat with exquisite precision. Her blood rushes into my mouth, a cascade of sweetness that sends a jolt of pure ecstasy coursing through my veins. It’s better than I remembered – better than anything I’ve ever tasted.

Fuck…yes!

“Oh, my God!” Rowan’s response is immediate. She cries out, fingers biting into my skin as she grabs at me. “Oh! God! Yes…yes…fuck!”

It’s a moment that I knew would come for her – the sweet paradox of the act of drinking. We give pleasure where we take nourishment. It’s a careful balancing act that suits our kind. Right now, she’s in the grip of a mind-numbing orgasm, her body convulsing as she reaches her climax.

She grinds against me, her hips moving in a frantic rhythm as she rides out the waves. I can feel the heat of her through the fabric of my trousers, the slick moisture seeping through. The air is ripe with it.

I tighten my arms around her, holding her close as she shudders against me, the last waves ripple through her. My own need is a fierce, demanding ache, but I ignore it. This moment isn’t about me – it’s about the woman whose life force is flowing into my body, whose blood is a perfect match for my own.

As her tremors subside, I reluctantly withdraw my fangs, licking the wound to seal it. I press a gentle kiss to her throat, then another, simply because I can.

She sags a little and I tighten my grip, raising my head and looking down at her.

“I…I…” She licks her lips. “I didn’t…” Her chest is still heaving as she fights to steady her breath. “Is it always like that?” she finally says.

I nod. “Always.”

“My…God…” She licks her lips. “Do I have a choice?”

“Do you want one?”

She takes a moment to think about this, then shakes her head, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. I dip my head and flick my tongue over her lips, knowing that she’ll taste her blood on my mouth. Then I tighten my arms and pull her closer against me, liking the fact that she doesn’t resist. Because for this moment in time, Rowan Blackwood belongs to me.

And I have no intention of letting her go.

24

Chapter 24

Rowan

Power. I’m buzzing with it. Tingling, humming, my skin on fire. It’s mind-blowing.

Is that what you’re going with, Ro? Your skin is tingling with power?

More likely afterglow.

My cheeks flame as I stand in my kitchen, trying to focus on the task of tidying up. The bite on my throat was still bright and visible when I woke up this morning. Two tidy puncture wounds still mar the creamy skin of my throat.

And that tingling is concentrated in a spot that is making it hard to focus as I work. Namely, between my legs.

Oh, my God. What am I getting into?

I’m startled from my thoughts by a familiar chatter. Poppy scampers onto the kitchen counter, her bushy tail twitching.

“Well, hello. Looks like someone’s finally decided to grace us with her presence,” she chirps, eyeing me suspiciously. “What’s got you all hot and bothered, witchy woman?”

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