Page 24 of Twice Bitten
“He’s a vampire,” the blond said, sounding awfully dismissive for a healer standing over someone bleeding out on the ground. I liked his unruffled style, but I could’ve wished he’d chosen another moment for it. “He needs blood. I can’t heal him when he doesn’t have enough blood. Necromancy 101.”
Another argument ensued, and I faded in and out but got the gist: “Those two are dead,” said the blond, I assumed meaning the bikers, and Jack argued that Hendler was still alive and would be an acceptable donor, and I moaned until Jack focused back on me.
“No,” I whispered, coughing up a little more of my precious, dwindling blood. “Hendler’s too gross.”
Something like a smile crossed Jack’s face, but it looked forced, and his brows were deeply furrowed. He leaned down, and gods, he was handsome. Maybe this would be the last thing I’d see. That wouldn’t be so bad, considering some of the alternatives.
“I can’t say I blame you, but you said you’d starve before you drank from me, so it’s degrees of gross.” His arms tightened around me. “I’m not letting you die, so make up your fucking mind.”
That didn’t compute for a second. I’d said that? Yeah, I had, hadn’t I?
But that meant Jack was volunteering. To feed me? Werewolves didn’t feed vampires willingly. Not ever. Letting a vampire feed had to be one of the top shifter taboos, right up there with fucking in full-shifted form.
He smelled so good. Now that I’d started thinking about it, my fangs dropped and my mouth watered. He’d be so rich and fresh and clean, so wonderful. I could even scent him over the tang of my own blood, and that drowned out nearly everything.
“I didn’t mean it,” I choked out.
And to my shock, relief flooded his expression, his brows smoothing out and his mouth curling up in a smile.
He got one arm out from under me and reached up to pull his jacket collar aside, boosting me effortlessly with the other arm so my face rested in the curve of his neck.
Jack’s pulse pounded, the flow of his blood echoing in my ears and drawing me in like a siren’s call. Instinct took over, and I opened my mouth and bit.
Oh, gods. Salty and metallic and hot, rushing in and filling me, mingling with my own blood that still flowed up from my shredded lung. Our blood together tasted like the sweetest ambrosia, felt like ribbons of crimson and gold threading together and winding themselves around my soul’s deep magic and my lifeforce itself, stitching and binding me back together.
I sank into sensation, into Jack, until nothing was real but my body pressed to his and his strength flowing into me and his pulse and his heat and the agonizing delight of my wounds healing…
Heat pooled in my chest and belly, along my side. Tendrils of helpless ecstasy flowed along every vein and nerve.
Oh, gods, no. No, no, no, not now…that heat arrowed down, tightening my abdomen and going straight to my cock. And deeper, lower, a throbbing inside me. I clutched at Jack’s shoulders, enough strength in me now to reach up and touch. I needed him closer. Deeper, harder, all around me. Fuck, this couldn’t be happening. A vampire feeding caused euphoria in a lot of people, arousal and pleasure beyond the mere physical. But vampires weren’t supposed to react that way to feeding. We were in charge of the process, not its victim.
Except I’d always had to be a little different, hadn’t I? I’d had this reaction before, to a much smaller degree.
And this was Jack. Jack, whose blood and scent and inborn wild magic hit me like a drug tailored to make me lose my mind.
I shook in his arms, cock straining, everything in the world narrowed down to the life entering my mouth and the heat and need between my legs. His low growl vibrated through my whole body.
My abdomen clenched, my ass clenching too, wishing for…oh, gods, wanting Jack. Wanting him, and my back bowed as my cock twitched and stiffened to the point of pain.
I came just like that, without a touch, locked in Jack’s arms and with my mouth latched onto his neck, aching and desperate for more but helpless against the flood of desire that swept me away.
And helpless, too, against the euphoric enervation that followed, a weakening in all my limbs. My fangs slid out of his flesh and my head fell back against his shoulder. The world undulated around me, an almost sickening swoop as pleasure pulsed through me.
I blinked slowly, feeling like my eyelashes had weights on them. Jack’s eyes glowed like stars, his fangs down fully, and his arms around me had tensed until they were as hard as steel. The look in those eyes had me gasping: pure, hungry desire, predatory and desperate.
“Angelo,” he rasped. “Fuck. Angelo. You…” His arms tightened even more as he gathered me impossibly closer, burying his face in my hair and breathing like he’d run a marathon.
“Christ, get a fucking room already,” said a new voice from a few feet away. “I mean, seriously. Arik? This isn’t the dude’s mate, right? Because I don’t think we have a job to do if he is.”
I let my eyes flutter shut and floated there in Jack’s embrace, enclosed and sheltered away from the world. He huffed a laugh against my hair. I smiled and nuzzled into him. They were talking about us. And it was kind of funny. But it didn’t really matter. Nothing mattered but Jack.
Even my embarrassment over shaking apart into a humiliatingly obvious orgasm—while Jack held me, and in front of who knew how many other people—had faded into background noise.
Jack’s heartbeat. Jack’s strength. The sound of his breathing. The way I could feel his lips moving gently against my hair, like he was kissing me.
Kissing me.
My breath caught.
