Page 71 of The Serpent's Bride
It really shouldn’t.
Grasping himself, he pressed himself to her entrance. She had no idea what she was in for—and he hadn’t prepared her at all. And it seemed he was aware of that. “Usually, I like to work my partners in a little. But I fear you have gone and worn my patiencethin, my dear sweet killer.” He shifted his grip to hold her hips in both hands.
“Will you justshut upalready?” She had heard enough of his talking. She needed action.Now.
He pulled her to him as he drove himself forward.
Her mind went white.
He was merciless. Relentless. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t process anything except the feeling of him inside of her—moving harder and faster than any human was capable of.
She had never felt anything like it before in her life.
It wasamazing.
It wasn’t pain that had driven her mind white when he had rammed into her, filling her to the hilt and stretching her. It had been ecstasy. It had been a sudden and instant release, a push over that cliff into pure bliss.
Even now, she lay beneath him, gasping and mewling, and when she had the air to breathe, she found herselfwhimpering his name. Twisted up with words likemore,andharder,she was begging him, pleading with him to keep her where he had put her—somewhere safe from what she had done. Somewhere in this bliss, this pleasure, this cloud of ecstasy away from death and murder.
And he seemed more than happy to oblige. “Look at you…” He slowed down, if only seemingly to taunt her. He straightenedup, and placed his hand around her throat, cinching his grip to cut off her air just enough to keep her from responding. “Gods, you feelincredible.And thattaste.You are going to be an addiction if I’m not careful.”Pulling nearly all the way out, he rammed himself forward, jerking her hard on the table, sending coins rattling to the ground.
Her eyes rolled back. He was too much for her—justbarelymore than she was made to handle. And all she wanted was more.
“My little bloody bride, my killer, my little murderer—you like it rough, hm?” He grinned, flashing his fangs. “Do you like it when it’s violent?” He rammed into her again, and she moaned as her body spasmed around him, so close to another wave of release. His hand tightened around her throat again and it only made her dizzier. “Tell me the truth.”
“Y—yes,” she half breathed, half moaned. “I like it…” And it wasn’t a lie.
“Good.” A third impact, and he nearly roared, snarling through his clenched teeth.
She wailed—she was so close. She was going to faint if he kept his grip on her throat for much longer. “Raziel?—”
“Do you want to feel my bite? Do you want me to drink you? Do you want me to taste you and truly make you mine?” He leaned over her, his grasp on her throat loosening. His voice softened. “You may die. I may not be able to stop myself.”
She met those red eyes of his. And by the moons, if she died like this…she didn’t know if she cared. She deserved for her soul to be eaten by the void, either way. Because there was no excuse for the one word that was a whisper as he turned her chin to the side to bare her throat to him.
“Yes…”
TWENTY
Bliss. Pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Her blood burned in his veins. And he’d never felt anything like it in all his centuries of life.
Raziel carried his wife’s unconscious form from the caves in his arms. He left the truck behind, there was no need for it, and should anyone want to try their hand at taking a truck full of weapons, they’d soon find it more trouble than it was worth. Besides, he felt like stretching his legs after what he had just done.
Ivan and Hank had been told to bring a car to meet them. He was happy to have all the Iltani nonsense concluded, and it had ended surprisingly well.
He had dressed his little murderer in the black wool coat he had worn on the way there. As her clothes were in shreds, or covered in Luciento’s blood, it seemed only appropriate to redress her in whatever he had available.
She was alive. He had managed to stop himself from drinking her to death.
If just barely.
But the way she simmered in his body, the way every vein and artery seemed to burn with some new kind of life? Hecouldn’t explain it. He had heard of some vampires finding mates that had this effect—something about the blood singing to theirs. But he had thought it was only a myth. But now that he had tasted her? It was the only thing that made sense. He would have to do some research. Or ask his grandmother Lilivra about it, if he could get an audience with the old hag.
Either way, it made their situation far more complicated. Because whatever he discovered, he would still have to kill her.
There was no use attempting to delay. His mother would simply roll her eyes and see it as a sign of weakness, and demand he take the girl to the ancestral home and get on with the sacrifice. With a sigh, he looked down at the woman in his arms. She was pale, her head resting against his chest, forehead tucked against his throat. His body temperature would keep her warm, as he now had her blood in his body.
She would heal. And she healed quickly, which was convenient, seeing as he had likely bruised her badly enough she would limp for days with how hard he had rutted her. He couldn’t help it. Seeing her like that, after having murdered Luciento? There was no stopping him.
