Page 21 of Sin of the Saints

His hot tongue licks at her sweaty neck and she writhes with desire, arching her back in invitation. No words are needed here, no logic. The only thing that reigns is illogical loss of control. In one swift motion he shoves himself into her, and her eyes widen just as her body embraces him. As he realizes what happened, he withdraws and gazes in wonder at the product of their lust.

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

“I’ve hurt you. Please, forgive me.” He rocks his head in terror, guilt etched onto his face.

“Equal among equals, Hillel. I bleed for you, and you’ll bleed for me.” She pushes her hips forward and draws him deeper intoher. Lilith embraces the pain with a deep sigh, bursting forth from the deepest part of her. He responds with a growl and buries his head in her neck.

Her mouth is a monstrous maw and an itch spreads through her upper gums. Delirious, desperate, needy, she bites his neck. She wants him inside her every way she can get. He possesses her, thrusting while she feeds on the red juice flowing in his body.

Thrust. Feed.

Thrust. Feed.

Endless friction burns them from the inside out. Lilith convulses around him, choking him, he’s on the verge of death as he spills himself into her. In a desperate attempt to muffle the sound of his shout he bites her neck and greedily feeds off her.

Hillel am I. I am Hillel. We’ve become one body.

Passion is fire, lust of the flesh is friction, and their place bursts into flames.

And thus the inferno of Hell was created, with an oath of blood.

“I need you to take me away from here, Bar. Now,” I plead as my body is drawn to his. I can’t stop panting, can’t breathe. Damn it, I’m having a fucking anxiety attack! Why do I need air to breathe? God, what’s happening to me?

“Belle? Belle?” His voice is dim and my vision is blurry. Are these Lilith’s memories again? They’re different from the other memories I’ve received from her so far.

“Now, Bar, now!” I plead with him, and he gets out of the car and gathers me into his arms. But I squirm out of his grip, leaning forward and grabbing my knees.

“Breathe, Belle, I’ll take us somewhere safe. You’re alright, you’re safe with me,” he keeps murmuring his promise as a mantra while I struggle for air that refuses to fill my lungs. Bar caresses my back and he seems lost. It isn’t helping. I’m choking. I’m a walking corpse who’s about to die. God help me. God fucking help me. Bar pulls me upright and rips the collar off his white shirt. “Drink, Belle!” he commands, and I shake my head. “You need to feed, Bellcolor! I won’t lose you, not when I just got you back!”

The thought of drinking his blood makes my insides twist, and I grunt as his sweet smell breaks through the wall of my doubts.

His blood is different. It’s not mixed with demon blood anymore, and suddenly I understand just how much his presence is what’s paralyzing me.

The familiar itch appears in my gums, and my fangs lengthen with the primal need compelling me to obey it. I lift my head and sink my razor-sharp fangs into his throat.

He moans as I feed on him, drawing him into me.

Flooding.

Full.

Madness.

Serenity.

My talons lengthen and stab into the flesh of his chest. I can’t get enough of him, I need more of him.

Closer. Deeper.

I need more.

“That’s it, Belle,” Bar chokes out. I feel his pain, but I can’t stop. He understands the war being waged in my head, and relaxes his body, lying on the burning hood of the car and gently caressing my hair. “Take it, Belle, take me,” he grunts, and I force my eyes shut to banish the haunted memories.

His chest rises and falls wildly, and his heart is pounding like a thundering drum. He moves his hips on the car hood, I hear a familiar rustle. I open my eyes and find that he’s as needy as I am. The tremendous erection between his legs threatens to tear through the black denim he’s wearing.

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