Page 37 of Tears of Revenge

She stared up at him, dark hard eyes cold on hers. “I…” she stammered. “Thank you for the clothes. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She squirmed, a little insecure. They’d never been very close to each other, and him smelling like a treat wasn’t exactly helping. She was hyper aware of his blood pulsing just beneath his skin. She held his gaze with all her strength, fighting not to let her eyes travel down to where she’d bitten him before. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“I won’t provoke it.”

How was she supposed to tell him how awful it felt to stand there? Now knowing how good his blood tasted. Her teeth ached, and pain shot through her lip. Pushing her tongue forward, past her fangs, she tasted her own blood. Her hands flew to cover her mouth and she rushed back to her own bedroom.

She slammed the door behind her, trying to get her fangs to retract. She’d never been so embarrassed—or upset with herself. She never had any intention of hurting Lysander again, but the memory of his taste blinded her.

“Avalon, open the door.”

She covered her mouth and nose with both her hands. “No.”

Lysander fell silent and for a moment, the only thing she could hear was his heart thumping in his chest.

“Open the door, Avalon,” he repeated in a softer tone, reminding her of how he’d soothed her after she’d nearly ripped his wrist apart.

After another moment, Lysander opened the door and stepped in. She scrambled back, collapsing onto the bed.

“Avalon, it’s alright.”

“No.” The word was muffled by her hands still pressing onto her face.

“I know you don’t want to hurt me, but I also know my sheer presence is enough to trigger you.” He slowly stepped closer until he came to a stop mere inches away from her.

“Go.”

His eyes softened, and he reached out to grab her wrists. “That won’t help you.”

“Please,” she begged as he pulled at her arms. “I want to hurt you.”

To her surprise, her arms didn’t budge. “No, you don’t want to hurt me. Which is why you are asking me to leave. But you will inevitably hurt me because you don’t know how to control your thirst. There is a world’s difference between the two.”

Lysander stopped tugging, instead stroked her skin in a soothing pattern.

“You don’t know how not to hurt me. Feeding on someone doesn’t have to be painful but it will be if you don’t know how to do it properly.”

She tried to focus on his words, but his heart had started thumping louder and stronger in his chest. His carotid pulsed heavily under his thin skin. She was mesmerised by the motion, finding it harder and harder to understand his words.

“You need to learn to feed so you don’t hurt me, because that’s what you are afraid of. It’s the reason you’re still fighting the urge to feed. Once you’ve learned how to make it pleasant for me, you will want to feed.”

“I don’t.”

“You will, because that’s who you are now. You have to let go of those human reservations.”

Why was he saying those things? Why was he so close? “I don’t want to kill you.”

Lysander chuckled, chest rumbling against her arms, his thumb still smoothing over her wrist. “I’m not that easily killed. Marcus and Varos will help you.”

She forced her attention away from the pulsing artery and found his gaze once more.

“Pull your hands away and give into the urge.”

Her head thrashed side to side in protest but to her surprise, he let her right hand go. She watched in horror as he lifted his hand and scraped his fingernails over his skin, exactly where that gorgeous artery throbbed. There was barely any blood, but it was enough to cloud her mind. The sweet smell crept through her hands and up her nose. Before she knew it, her fangs extended past her lip, and then they were plunged deep in his neck.

Lysander’s blood ran over her tongue and dripped down her throat, coating her insides like honey. It extinguished the scratchy, burning feeling, like cough syrup to a sore throat.

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