Page 108 of Her Dark Salvation

“Cross my heart, hope to die…”

“Don’t joke like that,” he warned, and his eyes sparkled red.

“So serious,” I whined.

“This is serious.”

“I know, but I already told you. I choose you. Which means I choose whatever life I need to choose to have you. I need you to believe—really believe—I’m strong enough to handle that choice.”

The corner of his mouth twitched like it wanted to smile and he wouldn’t let it. He picked up a section of my hair and spun it around his finger. “Of course, you’re strong enough. I should have known better than to doubt you.” He kissed my forehead, and the touch of his soft lips sent prickles of pleasure skittering across my skin. “I can ease your pain.” The offer held a world of promise. Another kiss. “If you let me.”

We stared into each other’s eyes, finally at our crossroads. After this, our lives would be irrevocably changed. Our commitment to one another would start with me at his wrist and him at my neck, and there would be no turning back.

I didn’t feel an ounce of anxiety. No sweaty palms. No doubt. No fear. Just unshakable certainty that this was right, that he was right. Life, even the short life of a human, wasn’t worth living without Marco.

“I love you.”

His eyelids fluttered closed as if he needed to give my words time to settle in his body, to let himself feel the weight of their truth. When he opened them, fire streaked through their obsidian depths.

He threaded his fingers into my hair and held my gaze with crimson intensity. “Ti amo, mia bellissima Anna. Sei il mio cuore. Sei la mia anima. I love you, my beautiful Anna. You are my heart. You are my soul.”

Tendrils of fire spread to encompass his irises, and he lifted his wrist to his mouth. His lips parted, and his eye teeth descended, their tips elongating and sharpening until they extended an inch beyond his upper jaw. He slashed his wrist with the tip of one fang, and it cut like a razor. Blood pooled at the wound and trailed down his muscled forearm.

He held his wrist to my mouth, and my eyes followed the red stream down his arm. “Drink,” he said, low and demanding.

Curious and alive with anticipation, I ran my tongue along the trail of blood, starting at his elbow and ending at the clean slash across his wrist. I lapped the thick liquid into my mouth, and it coated my tongue, its metallic bite unmistakable. I’d expected my instincts to rebel, to shiver with revulsion and gag, but his warm, sweet blood slid down my throat without issue or hesitation.

Marco stared at my mouth, transfixed, and his eyes glowed with unbridled need. He nodded, encouraging me, and I looked back down at his wrist. I ran my tongue over the wound, licking the blood pooled there before closing my lips over the slash.

I drank.

He groaned at the first pull, a primal, masculine sound heavy with satisfaction. More of his sweet nectar coated my mouth, and I relished its taste and the warmth of it traveling down my throat with each decadent swallow. I couldn’t get enough. I pulled harder, filling my mouth with Marco’s blood and holding his wrist in place, ravenous for more.

He squeezed his hand in my hair and pulled me off his wrist. “Enough,” he growled.

I gasped for air.

Heightened awareness bombarded my senses. The room looked sharper, and Marco’s breath roared like the ocean. The pain in my sides dulled with each heartbeat, and my muscles tingled with vitality.

Inside the blazing inferno of his eyes, Marco’s dilated pupils held me in place. He lifted his wrist to his lips and swiped his tongue across the wound. The slash closed, leaving a faint red impression that faded as quickly as the pain in my ribs.

I licked the remains of his blood from my lips, overwhelmed by my senses and panting from the power surging through my veins. His breath came fast and heavy, and his eyes trailed down to my neck, his grip tightening in my hair.

Heat shot to the space between my legs in anticipation of his fangs sinking into my neck and fulfilling the fantasy I’d yearned for since the gala. He slid his hand around my back and pulled me close. His jaw muscle twitched, a silent struggle to contain his passion. He lowered his head, and I shoved my hands into his hair, urging him on his path to my blood. He traced my artery with his tongue, and his chest rumbled with satisfaction.

I sucked in a breath, my clit and breasts swelling with unknown need. He closed his mouth over my neck and sucked, drawing my artery and blood toward his mouth. He released me, his heavy breath hot in my ear. “Do you want this, Anna? Tell me you want this. I need to hear it one last time.”

“Yes. Marco. I want this. I want you.”

My throaty plea barely escaped my lips before Marco’s fangs pierced my neck.

I gasped at the stab of pain, but the shock of his bite was immediately replaced by a rush of pleasure. Warmth radiated out from where his fangs penetrated my flesh. It spread down my neck and across my shoulders, following the path of his venom through my veins.

He closed his lips around the wound and drank, sucking blood from my neck and wrenching a groan from my lungs. With each pull, the venom spread, and the remaining pain and tension in my body vanished, replaced by euphoria. He tightened his grip, holding my relaxed body in place, and I gave over to the sensation of his feeding.

Heat spread and surged through my body, and every nerve ending tingled, hypersensitive to even the slightest touch. His fingertips danced across my skin from my back to my front, and when he ran his thumb over my nipple, I gasped and arched my back begging for more.

“Marco,” I sighed, dazed and dizzy. He’d barely touched me, and already I was on the verge of something spectacular. “Please. I need you inside me. I need you to love me.”

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