Page 49 of Tears of Revenge

As if it were his everyday routine, he returned to his food and plated it. By the time he filled himself a glass of wine, a timer went off and he retrieved the blood from the water, poured it into her glass, and offered it to her.

“Thank you.” She followed him to the living room but hesitated, worried he’d be disgusted by her drinking while he was eating.

“I have lived with two blood suckers for hundreds of years—well before donors were even thought of. Sit.”

“Why do you still work if money’s no object?” She lowered herself to the seat opposite to him and sipped on her blood.

“It keeps my mind busy and assures me that we can survive comfortably if we ever do need to return to hiding.”

“And how are you not being detected? I mean doesn’t anyone get suspicious when you don’t grow grey hair and become wrinkly?”

“We move and start somewhere new.”

“But is Lysander your real name?”

“It is. Though usually we use an alias; this time we kept them.”

“I like Lysander.”

He set his plate aside, fixing his gaze on her as she finished her ‘meal’. “Come here.”

“What?”

A mischievous grin curled his lips, and she couldn’t help but stare. He lifted a finger to his neck, slicing his skin just like before. “Come here,” he repeated.

Her fangs extended as she eyed the drop of blood forming on his skin. The scent of him crept up her nose and made her body move of its own accord.

“Good, just like that. Nice and slow.”

The praise made her skin tickle—in a good way—as she closed the distance between them. Once she was within arms’ reach, he grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. Her head snapped forward, fangs sinking into his skin.

“You did so well, Ava,” he groaned, rolling his head back and exposing more delicious skin for her to taste. “You controlled yourself so well.”

She fought the urge to suck, trying to let the blood flow naturally into her mouth. She desperately wanted to taste him but didn’t want to hurt him. She shifted to get comfortable, gasping into the bite as she felt his hard bulge beneath her. She made an attempt to move but he held her in place, grinding her against his lap.

“You feel so good,” he hummed, rocking into her touch.

It did feel good and with her throat no longer burning and her mind feeling foggy with all the fresh blood, she couldn’t help but grind her hips against him. Lysander’s blood slowly drained from his body, filling her system and she needed more. She needed to get closer.

Her hand slipped beneath his shirt, palms smoothing over his stomach. His skin was warm beneath her palms and when he flinched under her touch, she remembered how much cooler her skin was.

She pulled back, releasing his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Put them back,” he demanded, his eyes lazily on hers.

“I’m not too cold?”

“You’re perfect. Now put them back.”

So, she did. This time Lysander let out a low moan as their skin touched.

“You might be a different kind of trouble than I thought,” he admitted, high from her antidote. “I thought we would have to move and start over again. Maybe even somewhere remote to be able to tame you, but you are vastly different from what I thought you would be.”

“Why does that sound like a bad thing?”

“It’s not, but me wanting you is. I have no right to lay claim on you, yet here I am using your weakness against you to have you in my arms.”

Before the guilt could set in, Marcus fell next to them on the couch. “We can share.”

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