Page 55 of Fated In Blood

Riordan tasted too good, and I was too far gone to care how this looked.

His hand twisted in my hair, the other resting lightly on the small of my back. That small touch kept me grounded, and I growled when his fingers tightened then finally yanked my head away from the punctures. “There won’t be any left if you keep going like that. You need to slow down. Three more pulls, then lick the punctures closed. That’s considered good manners.”

For the strangest reason, him calling my manners into question penetrated the fog of hunger I was lost inside. I managed to limit myself to three—very strong—pulls, then laved my tongue over the bite until I’d picked up every last trace of blood, my head spinning when his blood slammed into my system like a sledgehammer.

I should have stopped. Should have rolled off him, but he felt too good, all this muscled hardness trapped beneath me, and I rocked my hips, anticipation shivering through me.

His skin was silky smooth. Velvety soft. My tongue danced over his throat, followed by my lips, tracking up that strong tendon until I nibbled his strong jaw, cut as sharply as a knife. God, he was a handsome bastard, his rock-hard chest heaving beneath my palms. I was vaguely aware of my hips moving, of a dark pleasure building between my legs, but I was too far gone to focus on that for long.

I only felt the pressure of his hand on my back, urging my hips to move faster, the taste of him filling my mouth as I feasted on his skin, and the pinch of pain as he twisted his hand tighter in my hair. I was shattering apart on a tide of endless power and I didn’t care.

Desire and need tangled together, my core rubbing up and down along his hard length, and I moaned against his throat from the sheer ecstasy of that delicious friction as need built higher and higher until the pressure became unbearable.

“That’s it, keep going, Silver.”

My eyes flew open, the words registering like a punch to the gut.

Humiliated, I scrambled off Riordan, only to tumble off the bed in a tangle of those stupid fucking sheets and hit the floor face-first for the second goddamned time in two days. I could not catch a fucking break.

I pushed up, shoved the offending sheets off me, and climbed to my feet in an attempt to salvage my dignity. “That was a mistake.”

“Clearly.” Riordan was spread across my bed, wide shoulders protruding from the tattered shirt now flecked with blood—my mouth watered at the sight—his pants tented from an impressive hard-on. Worst of all was the big wet spot right over his cock, where I’d been grinding myself to a climax that never fucking happened.

“Get out.”

For a second, I thought he’d refuse, but he rose smoothly from the bed and prowled toward the door, taking his good old time. He paused before he left, fingers tapping on the doorframe as if he was debating whether or not to speak.

“Twice a day for the next week we’ll do this, Silver. When you’re through your transition, when you’re strong, then we’ll go after Tyrell. Until then, make yourself comfortable and get some sleep. I’ll see you at dusk.” His eyes glittered when he ran them over me, cataloging every minute detail of my appearance.

“You’re a beautiful woman. I’m not opposed to fucking you. But don’t think this is anything but a business arrangement. You’re here because you’re a tool. Nothing more. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”

God, I hated how my insides warmed at the compliment, hated how easily his casual dismissal hurt me.

“Trust me,that’snever happening again.”

His snort of amusement would have been too soft for me to discern as a human, but as a vampire, I heard it clear as a bell.

“We’ll see, Silver, we’ll see.”

By the timethe sun fell behind the trees, I’d worn a path in the rug, hands clenching in desperation, sweat pouring down my spine as I paced. I was starving. Fucking ravenous.

Self-control had gone out the window hours ago, but simple stubbornness and pride kept me from leaving this room and hunting Riordan down. Fuck, I was even desperate enough to try to find Blake.

“Sorry I’m late.”

One second, the room was empty, the next, Riordan stood by the window in a dark tailored suit, that look of perpetual boredom etched on his stupid face.

“I was delayed. Business that couldn’t wait.”

I was dimly aware I was staring, hands clenched, body trembling as I held myself in check. Restraint was pure torture, trapped between a hunger I couldn’t tame and consuming hatred I couldn’t give into, not if I wanted what this pompous bastard had to offer.

Hunger would win out, as it always did, but until then, I fought the urge, muscles straining against this overwhelming desire to feed.

The bastard in question loosened his tie and tossed it on the window seat. “Fighting your instincts just makes the hunger more intense and harder to resist. You have to find the balance, Silver. Feed enough to keep yourself strong, but not too much or you’ll fall into bloodlust…or worse.”

“Gee, thanks for the advice, sensei.”

His lips pinched together. “The rules are simple. Feed or die. Since Blake went to a lot of fucking trouble to save you…”

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