Page 57 of Fated In Blood

One second, my back was flat against the wall, the next…I had Riordan pressed against the window glass, knees on eitherside of his hips as I sank my teeth into his neck.This is so, so wrong, I thought dimly before the taste of him hit my tongue.

Then I was soaring, carried along by his taste and his power, held steady by his hands braced on my hips, ever so slowly gyrating against him. I took three deep pulls—four, because he was late and I was starving—before I gathered myself together and carefully licked the punctures closed. I went to stand up, but Riordan pulled me against him until I lay against his chest.

After these past few days, I had to admit, the contact felt…nice.

Weird but nice after years of not being touched, even if Riordan was nothing more than an enemy cloaked as an ally.

My lips skimmed over his skin, tongue flicking out to capture any residue left behind.

“You are insatiable,” he murmured. “Two more sips, then you should sleep. You’ve had a hellacious day, Silver.”

“I really have,” I agreed, picking the perfect place on his throat to strike, right over his beating pulse. This time I tried to be more careful, more precise. After all, I’d be doing this for the rest of my life, I might as well get it right.

But at the first taste of Riordan, I lost every bit of restraint and turned into a savage.

Even worse, I didn’t think the king minded one bit as I viciously sank my fangs into the soft, smooth skin of his neck like an animal, his powerful hands gripping my ass, yanking my writhing body hard against him.

27

EVANGELINE

“Well, at least now I know why he kept staring.”

Even though the last thing I remembered was grinding myself into Riordan like an alley cat, I’d woken up alone the next morning, covered with a moldy blanket. Even with eight hours of sleep and a buttload of power humming through my bones, I was a walking disaster.

My hair was a giant snarl on top of my head, still full of twigs and leaves from the battle at the quarry, which sounded like some kind of heavy metal band name from the eighties. There was a smear of Riordan’s blood—dear God, I hoped that was Riordan’s blood—across one cheek, and in the light of day, my shirt was full of moth holes.

I groaned. I might as well have been wearing a see-through nighty last night.

But the spigot worked just fine, and I sank beneath the water in the claw foot tub, wondering how my life had gone so far off the rails. Honestly, I didn’t know what pissed me off more. That I was a vampire or that I was a prisoner.

I’d never been a vampire before.

But I’d been a prisoner for the first sixteen years of my life, and I’d sworn to never be one again. We’d narrowly escaped with our lives, Angel, me, and Mom. And these last twelve years, Angel and I never had much in the way of personal comforts, but freedom tasted better than money any day of the week.

My father hadn’t been able to keep me caged.

Riordan wouldn’t, either.

I popped out of the water and sucked in a breath of warm, humid air, then leaned my head against the cool rim of the tub. My body was a strung wire, my head stuffed with cotton from the constant hum of power rushing through my veins. Not unpleasant at all, just…inconvenient when I was trying to formulate my plans.

One week, Riordan had said, before my transition was complete, whatever that meant.

Before he’d stormed off, Blake had told me the same. So…one more week of this feeding shit, then I supposed we’d kill Laurent Tyrell. All I wanted was to get my sister out of that castle and far away from Thorndale, New York.

But there were logistics I hadn’t considered before.

We’d both need to feed. We’d need a steady supply of fresh blood, and I had no idea how to go about that, since stalking humans was off the table. And as far as feeding from Riordan…I had to get a handle on my libido before he made his appearance today.

My body became a raging inferno the second his blood hit my tongue and that had to stop.

Hell, just the thought of his body pressed against mine sent a shockwave of desire through me.

I drifted in the weightless heat of the water, my hand settling between my legs. The second I stroked my thumb over my clit, my unrequited climax roared back to life, legs going loose and weak, pressure coiling in my belly. There was adefinite correlation between vampires feeding and sex, but I’d be damned if I’d fuck His Majesty.

Blake was off the table, but I still had to feed.

Which meant I had to take care of myself, because fuck them both.

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