Page 58 of The Pureblood Daughter
His hand, previously limp at his side, comes up to touch Nadia’s face as he pulls his fangs from her flesh. His lips are brushed with her blood, and his green eyes are so bright they very nearly shine through the dark.
“Nadia,” he whispers, his thumb trailing across her cheek. It’s the first time he’s used her new name, herrealname, and it sounds true and real and right.
His fingers brush the tender spot on her head where the man struck her, and she winces. As if just now remembering where he is, Theodore sits up with a groan, and his gaze goes to the dead man lying in the grass.
“A hunter,” he growls. “And he hurt you.”
“I’m fine, Theodore. It’s just a bump.” As rain patters around them, she reaches for Theodore’s arm, fighting the tears that threaten to streak down her face. “I thought he’d killed you. But you... You appear...”
“It’s your blood.” Tenderly, he touches the wound in his shoulder, then the bullet hole in his chest. Though he winces, the injuries no longer leak blood. “You arepur sânge,” he whispers. “Your blood heals.” Theodore looks at her then, his face softening. “You saved my life.”
She doesn’t let him get another word out.
Her lips find his, and she tastes her blood upon them, which serves only to drive her further into a frenzy. His waistcoat, saturated with blood, can’t come away fast enough, and so she rips it from his body, then gasps in delight as he does the same to her bodice, tearing straight through her gown, corset, and underclothes to expose her chest to the night. Her breasts are freed, and then his lips are on them, his tongue tracing delicious circles about her nipples, causing them to swell in the moonlight cutting through the rain clouds above.
“Take me away from here,” she manages to say between panted breaths.
In the next moment, Theodore finds his footing and sweeps Nadia into his arms. She captures his lips again as he carries her deeper into the garden, away from the dead man lying in the rain, away from the puddles of blood soaking into the grass.
“Hurry,” she whispers against his mouth, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, wanting—needing—to be closer to him.
His smile is fangs and hunger. “Hold on.”
She tightens her grip on him, then gasps as the world moves around them, blurring too fast for her to focus on any one thing, her hair and skirt catching and dancing in the wind.
A breathless moment later, Theodore is standing in a secluded glade, the trees stretching tall and proud all about them. He lowers Nadia to the grass in one smooth motion, and then he’s above her, his hands on either side of her head, his green eyes vibrant and wolfish, her blood still staining his mouth.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispers, and the grass tears as his fingers curl. “Wecan’t.”
“Give me one good reason.” Nadia reaches for his breeches, her fingers finding the buttons on the waistband. She sets one free, and Theodore’s resulting growl is hungry.
“You’re not strong enough. I could hurt you.”
“Then make me strong enough.” She gazes up at him, challenging.
In response, his eyes narrow, seeming to study her. Then he wraps one arm about her waist and flips her over, reversing their positions so she’s straddling him, the front of her torn gown flapping open, her breasts exposed to the night air.
“Drink,iubit,” Theodore says, reaching up to cup her face with one hand. “Show me who you really are.”
Her body, already on fire with lust and thirst, responds immediately to his touch, his invitation. Leaning forward, her hair falling all about them, she closes her eyes and inhales his scent. Her fangs ache to sink into his skin, so she lets them.
Nadia wraps one hand around the back of Theodore’s head, holding him firm, and claws into the soft wet grass with the other. She presses her fangs against his throat. His skin breaks easily, and then her lips are on his neck, his pulse throbbing along with the arousal still trapped in his breeches.
And Nadia drinks. Sheindulges, drawing his hot lifeblood into her mouth hungrily, as if she’s been lost in the desert and he’s her own private oasis. The taste is overwhelming. It’s intoxicating.
Her first two experiences drinking his blood—the night instinct overtook her in the carriage and the evening they lay in bed together—were tinged with conflicting emotions: want and shame, longing and disgust. But now, tonight, there’s only pleasure.
As she drinks, her body tingles with power. The ache in her head lessens until it’s undetectable. Nadia sinks her fangs deeper, and Theodore growls out a moan beneath her.
“Thirsty little thing, aren’t you?” His voice is rough, edged with want. His hand tangles in her windblown hair, and he tugs her head back, freeing her fangs of his flesh, leaving her wanting more. He crushes his lips to hers, then once more takes her about the waist and flips her so that she’s lying in the grass. Her chest heaves with heavy breaths, and the gently falling rain makes her bare skin gleam with moisture in the diffused moonlight.
Theodore pins her down, her wrists shackled in his strong hands, and draws his tongue along the side of her neck. She squirms beneath him, aroused and hungry and wanting. The tips of his fangs tease her skin, trailing along her throat but not sinking in.
“Please,” she whispers.
He shifts on top of her, releasing her wrists and sitting up to undo the last button on his breeches.
Entranced, she watches as the fabric comes away, freeing him in his entirety, the length of him hard and long and intimidating.
