Page 27 of Bad Demon

“I’m very hungry,” I confessed, my face heating. I hated this feeling, being in over my head, being perceived as weak in front of this male, in front of everyone else. “Is there someone here who can stop me if I get, um … carried away?” The only reason I chose this place was because I assumed it was safer, controlled.

I expected him to look frightened, to maybe change his mind and skedaddle back to his buds. Instead, his heart rate quickened, and the front of his pants literally tented before my eyes.

“Is this your first time here?” he asked.

“It is.”

He nodded, breathing heavily now. “Someone is always watching. If you have trouble stopping, they can intervene.”

“Right. Okay, that’s good.”

He motioned to a vacant couch.

I looked around. Did I really want to feed for the first time in front of everyone? What if I fucked up or did something wrong?

He led me to the couch and sat down, looking up at me expectantly.

Shit. I felt like an idiot.

I sat and shifted so I faced him. I had to be honest with this guy. He needed to know what he was signing up for. “Look, this is the first time I’ve done this. You’re my first.” I cringed. “I’m feeling a little out of my depth here, so you wanna tell me your name?”

His eyes flared. “Oliver.”

“Hey, Oliver. I’m Fern, and I’ve recently learned I need to drink blood.” I didn’t know why I was telling him this, only that it made me feel better to have some kind of connection with this guy—flimsy as it was. “I don’t think I need to feed as often as some, but I have this … craving, and I can’t resist it any longer. I think it’s only fair you know up front that I don’t know what will happen when I have my first taste of blood. I really don’t want to hurt you. The idea of doing that …” I rubbed my clammy, trembling hands on my thighs. “I really don’t want to do that, but I can’t guarantee you won’t get hurt either. If you want to get up and go now, I’ll totally understand.”

Oliver shivered. “I’m your first?” His hand went to his erection, and he squeezed, then shuddered again.

Gross. But then I was literally about to suck the blood from his vein, so if he wanted to jerk off, I guessed it was only fair.

“Yes.”

“Where do you want to bite me?” he said, voice trembling but definitely not from fear.

“Is there somewhere you’d prefer?” I asked, so nervous now that I felt queasy.

“My throat. I really like being bitten on the neck. I showered before I came, using unscented soap so there’s nothing to interfere with my scent or taste.” He squeezed his dick again, then kept massaging.

This was so fucking weird. Yes, nauseatingly, I’d been kind of turned on when I walked in here, but I wasn’t anymore. Far from it.

“Sounds good,” I said, but had no fucking clue.

He licked his lips and tilted his head, exposing his throat for me. I slid closer on the couch, my hand curling around the back of his neck, and leaned in. I blew out a nervous breath, ruffling his hair—

Oliver jerked and shuddered, a low groan leaving him.

I stilled, looking down. There was now an obvious wet patch on the front of the guy’s pants. I looked back up, and his face was bright red.

“Did you just …”

“It’s okay,” he said breathlessly. “Bite me. Oh, fuck, please bite me. I want to be your first. Let me be your first, mistress.”

I wasn’t a fan of this whole mistress thing, not at all. “Fern. Call me Fer—”

Athumpinvaded my brain, pulsing through my skull. Not Oliver. His heartbeat was racing like a wild hare being chased by a fox. This was steady, strong, the beat heavy. Whoever it belonged to was big. They had thick veins, thick enough to pump blood around a large frame. I turned to search the room, but I knew exactly who I was looking for, didn’t I? And I didn’t need to look far.

A pair of golden eyes locked with mine from across the room.

The hound—he’d gotten in. His lips were peeled back, his canines bared, extended. He didn’t move, keeping his distance like he’d promised, but he didn’t have to come closer. His hard stare sliced to Oliver, who was looking at him as well now, eyes wide, and the hound shook his head.Feed her and die—it was all there in that look, in that subtle shake of his head.

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