Page 80 of Barely Breathing

The wood is unforgiving against my bare skin, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is the way he is looking at me.

He kisses me everywhere. The contrast between his pliable tongue and sharp fangs sends a shiver over my heated skin. There seem to be two realities—the one we’re in and the one I feel when I’m with him like this. One of his hands pins my hip, holding me in place as he lavishes attention on first one breast, then the other. I squirm to feel him between my legs.

“Please,” I manage, though I’m not sure what I’m begging for. My fingers tangle in his hair, trying to draw him closer, torn between pulling him to my mouth and pushing him between my thighs.

He lifts his head, eyes blazing with crimson promise. “Tell me what you want.”

The sound of the monster is thick in his voice. One hand trails down my stomach, fingers playing along the edge of my sex, teasing my need. “Tell me.”

“You,” I breathe. “Just you.”

His mouth follows his hands. He keeps my hips in place with one hand as the other works magic between my legs. They thrust into me as his mouth clamps down on my clit. I writhe for more.

Just as I’m about to find release, he stops. I cry out in protest and try to sit up.

He keeps me on the table like a feast he’s about to devour. When his mouth finds my neck, I turn my head in invitation. I wrap his waist with my thighs and force my body to slide to the edge. His fangs scrape my pulse point, and the tiny sting only heightens every sensation.

He growls incoherently against my throat and enters me with agonizing slowness, like he’s still trying to maintain some control. I use all my strength to pull him closer to impale myself on his thick cock. We’ve fucked before, but it’s never felt like this.

“Do it,” I command, not caring who hears my cries. I force a violent rhythm against him, bucking for release.

Only this moment matters. His fangs pierce myskin as his cock penetrates my body. The dual sensations are overwhelming—pleasure and pain mixing until I can’t tell them apart. It’s too much. My stomach tightens, and I become lightheaded. Costin’s hungry mouth pulls hard against my neck. My arm drapes over his back. He’s taking too much blood. I slap his shoulder in warning, but his body is moving over mine. That deep need for sweet release wars with self-preservation.

My vision dims, and I worry I might pass out from the intensity.

When he finally pulls back from my throat, his lips are stained red. The sight frightens me a little. I have no time to react as the pleasure takes over. His hips pound into mine with heated abandon, driving me hard against the tabletop. My head tilts back, and I shut my eyes.

“Mine,” he growls, gripping my thighs to keep me next to him.

He stops moving until I open my eyes. He holds my gaze, not resuming the frenzied pace. The slow, measured strokes are too much. Our bodies strain together, pushing and pulling, until the primal need takes over.

My heartbeat hammers in my ears, and I can barely hear anything else. My nails dig into his shoulders. The bittersweet pleasure builds between us. A cry is ripped from me. Climax hits me so hard Ifreeze into a trembling mass. He follows immediately after, my name a broken cry against my injured throat. For a long moment, we remain perfectly still, connected in every way possible. But as the tremors subside, his forehead drops to mine.

“You are like fire and daylight,” he whispers in awe, “like you could burn away the darkness inside me and make me human again. I wish I could be that for you.”

I catch his face between my hands, making him look at me. I see the marks healing on his shoulders from where I gripped him. “I don’t want to burn away your darkness. I want all of you—light and shadow both. I know you’re a vampire, and there is no coming back from that. Just as I am human, and you accept me for my mortality.”

What I don’t say is that I don’t want to be a vampire. I don’t want to drink others to live.

Something breaks in his expression. His mouth finds my neck again, fangs scraping but not breaking skin as he licks the wound as if to help it heal. Next, he pulls me to sitting and kisses me gently, still tasting of blood and passion.

When he releases me, it’s to pick up the amulet. He hands it to me. “You should put this back on.”

I do, watching him lift that horrible old tome from the floor and place it down next to me. I hate that book and everything in it. Thefirelight casts long shadows across the library walls, and the weight of history and prophecy feels like it’s closing in once more. I want to throw the book into the flames and watch it burn. If only it were that easy to stop the ritual.

The amulet heats as if the dragon is angry at being ignored, and with it comes the strange sensation of memories trying to surface. Not mine this time, but older. Ancient.

“Stay with me,” he whispers against my lips, drawing me away from Draakmar’s needy demand for attention. “Whatever comes tomorrow...”

I kiss him to shut him up, not wanting to think about blood moon rituals or choices yet to come. I need time to stop. Right now, in this moment, I just want to feel loved.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

“Stay with me.”

Costin’s voice echoes in my mind, mingling with Draakmar’s insistent white noise. I try to put them both aside, but it’s difficult.

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