Page 27 of Until the Heart Stops
Callum’s silver eyes blazed as they flicked up to me and he gave one, long, obscene lick to the closing gash. I didn’t need the bond between us to know what he was imagining. Heat flared through my cheeks, my chest heaved, breasts pushing against my bodice.
“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”
The words were soft, merely a rasp against my skin, but they were amplified through our connection. I nodded, mouth hanging open as he licked again and my hips jumped, trying to push his wandering fingertips closer to where I needed him.
Perhaps he took mercy on me when he felt my frustration and desire mounting, because his fingertips grazed the crease of my thigh as he sucked on the wound. It was closing, thanks to his healing blood, but I groaned all the same. His chuckle skated across my skin, dark as night and breaking apart any vestiges of control I had left.
“Please, Callum, please.”
His white-blond brows ticked up. “What is it, my darling? Tell me what you need. You already know I’ll give it to you.”
It was an echo of what he’d written all those weeks ago:I want you to tell me what you want. I want to provide for you.And I couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled from my lips. A desperate plea for him to touch me, to fill me, fuck me, sink his teeth into my throat. Take and take and take until there was nothing left.
Or perhaps I said it through our bond, sending the need soaring through that strange connection he’d forged.
“One more,” he murmured, slipping beneath the fabric covering my sex. “I cannot deny you anything.”
Two fingers slipped effortlessly into me and I cried out, bowing forward and steadying myself on his upper back. Callum returned to the wound, licking and sucking. Every so often he bit his tongue to deliver more blood to the gash. And with each curl of his fingers, each pass of his thumb against my clit, each ripple of his tongue, I flew closer to the stars and welcomed the fall when it approached.
“My name, say my name,” he all but pleaded, drawing back from my leg to once again stare up in an awed sort of reverence as I came.
His name was a plea for mercy, a cry of delight and desperation all in one. Callum crooned through it all, pressing his lips to the now healed wound on my thigh, stroking his free hand across my shin.
“That’s it, just like that. So fucking beautiful—more beautiful than Amayah herself.”
Gently he withdrew his fingers and I watched on trembling knees as he lifted them to his mouth, sucking my release from his skin. His eyes remained locked on mine as he rose to his feet, towering over me, and dragged his thumb against my bottom lip. “I wish I could stay.”
I wrapped my hands around his wrists like brittle shackles. “Then stay.”
He had said he couldn’t deny me anything. That he would give me anything and everything I wanted—needed. But sorrow crept through the bond, dense like tar, and when he blinked blood tears stood in his eyes.
“I cannot, Lilith. But goddess, I wish I could.” He took one step back, sliding through my hold like it was nothing more than mist.
“No…don’t.” My throat was thick and I struggled to clear it. “Callum, please.”
He looked like he was burning, his face so stricken I could barely remember the icy mask he usually wore. Taking a step forward, I reached out, desperate to keep him here, but when I went to grab the fabric of his shirt my hands closed over empty air.
I was alone and shivering in the cold.
Chapter 13
The taste of Lilith was still on my tongue.
I ran my palms over my face as I took the stairs two at a time, groaning when the scent of her overwhelmed my senses. Tonight had been foolish—reckless even—and yet I could not find a single ounce of remorse. In the place where it should live was only a feverish need to be near Lilith again, to bask in her light and to draw from her those breathy whimpers that had me almost losing my goddess-damned mind.
A hand wrapped around my shoulder, wrenching me back. I didn’t fight it as I usually would have, not when the scent of my eldest brother wrapped around me. He was the only one strong enough to do such a thing, save our maker and Eamon.
“He has noticed your absence,” Mateo said, so low the words were barely more than vibration.
We stood in a small alcove of our maker’s palace deep in the heart of Oylen. Only moments ago I’d slipped in through the window I’d left open for myself in my bedchamber, hoping no one would realize I’d left theestate the moment the sun had dipped below the horizon.
“Is she safe?” he continued.
I nodded, not needing to ask who he meant. Mateo had been nervous when my fascination with Lilith Searah had first begun, but unlike Henry, who made everything into a joke, he’d been content to observe and listen. He knew that nothing would have taken me away tonight unless it was of the utmost importance—Mateo had made similar sacrifices in his life.
“Veneficanest.”
He swore under his breath, drew out a handkerchief from his waistcoat to scrub the black blood from my skin. I eyed his robes, the same I’d hastily thrown on, and noted the scent of incense drifting from them. Mateo worked quickly to clean the evidence of the venefica from my face and I stood stone still until he patted my cheek.
