Page 67 of Tempting the Fae Lord
He huffs and ducks his head. “Trouble is drawn to you like a vulture to the scent of death. I’m to believe you’ll stay whole and healthy long enough not to warrant my involvement?”
I chuckle. “Don’t ask me for promises you know I can’t keep.”
He smiles, fangs glinting in the glow of golden fae lights.
I want him. More than his blood. His attention, his touch, his kisses. Even with my bones broken and my mind exhausted, my body yearns for his.
“Only a little,” he says. “A few drops will go a long way to speed your healing. Afterward, you must stay here and rest while I deal with the threat.”
Very carefully, I say nothing and let him assume my consent. A lie of omission. One he’s too wise to believe anyway. But the hungry look in his eyes says he wants this too. Enough to fall for a tiny fib. But I can’t actually be expected to stay behind. What if he needs me?
“How is it done?” I don’t have teeth like his—sharp enough to slide through flesh like a knife through butter—though the thought alone thrills me.
“It’s simple enough.” He doesn’t explain further. Rather he lifts his wrist to his lips and uses one fang to pierce the delicate skin.
I suck in a breath. A drop of pure ruby beads to the surface.
With his free hand, he cups the back of my neck and props me up.
The scent coils to my nose and burrows a path deep in my gut. A feral desire burns in the back of my throat.
Ezra’s blood. A precious gift. I part my lips.
He presses the wound to my mouth.
I don’t hesitate. I lick the scarlet droplet greedily and close my eyes as I swallow. The nectar strikes like lightning, hot and bright and devastating.
I suction my lips around his wrist and suck for more. Another taste. Another swallow. Another avalanche of ardor.
He tightens his fingers on the back of my neck. His energy pours into my veins, invigorating my mind and quickening my breath.
Aches and pains are forgotten.
Desire churns.
“Stop, Mooncalf. That’s enough.” His deep voice drifts into my thoughts like a fall breeze. I sway, hazy and sated, but I don’t stop. Not until he pries me away by force. “Enough, I said.”
I think I giggle.
Is that sound me? Probably.
Oh, but who cares?
He’s so pretty, bending over me like he is, watching with midnight eyes that twinkle with their own dreamy lattice of stars. A long strand of ebony hair has come loose and ghosts over my cheek. I reach for it and twirl it between my fingers.
He licks the wound on his wrist close, pink tongue darting and retreating.
I stare at his mouth. “Kiss me.”
He stares back, eyes darkening.
I feel his gaze on my mouth like a whisper. A hint of what we both need. But I would have all of it.
“Your injuries,” he says, voice impossibly low. “Better?”
I check in with my body, arching my back, flexing my feet. It’s amazing what his blood can do. “Better. Thank you.”
He murmurs an acknowledgment and seems at a loss as to what follows.
