Page 22 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
She didn’t even have the energy to respond. Cursing, he set her head down and squeezed the vein on his bicep, forcing a few drops onto her tongue. “Drink, Vampress.”
The film of haze in her gaze cleared as her eyelids fluttered and her lips closed as she tested his taste. When she opened her mouth again, her incisors were out. He took that as a sign. Tipping her head to the side, he pressed his vein between her lips and flinched at the instant her teeth broke his skin. At the first drag of his blood, her eyes flew open, wide and dilated. She seized his arm to keep him from withdrawing and then drank two more large gulps. He held in a chuckle. He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. That was expected.
An unexpected searing heat surged in his own veins, his chest swelling with a sudden and overwhelming need. He looked down at her flawless marble skin, tinged with the faintest hint of color. His gaze lingered on her delicate nose, her high cheekbones, and the soft flutter of her lashes, dark as onyx, framing her eyes in a soft, mysterious haze. Exquisite burning flowed through his body. It turned his thoughts shadowy, like someone had slipped a drug into his drink, and his awareness became clouded and oh so black.
Could this be the effect of her venom? It was much more powerful than he supposed. For humans, it forced them to go limp. For demons, it felt… shit.
Aryana moaned and grabbed him with her free arm, urging him over her body. She gripped his shirt and jerked it from where it was tucked in his trousers. Then her fingers slipped underneath the fabric, running over his chest. He had expected her reaction and histo a degree, but he had fully intended going into this in complete control. He tried to cool the fire, tried to—his cock twitched. Fuck.
The beast inside him had awakened. His breathing picked up, his heart hammering against his ribs. An insatiable hunger raged deep within him, causing him to drop onto her. Another moan escaped Aryana, and she writhed underneath him. Gods, thefeelof her. A feral energy rushed through him, his length hardening, straining against his trouser’s front. The beast roared for more, demanding satisfaction. He brought his lips to the softness of her throat, dragging his teeth lightly over her vulnerable skin. She released yet another moan of pleasure and her hand slid lower, grasping the edge of his trousers.
If she did much more to him, he’d lose all control. He wanted to lose control. His shadows pulled around them, darkening the room, brushing over her body. For a moment, he struggled to fight it, lifting his hips slightly, attempting to breathe, to take back the beast, but it was useless.
“Aryana,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky. She kept pulling blood from his arm. Her hand tugged on his trousers, making the near-unbearable need burn even harsher.
His shadows wrapped around her legs, rising under her skirts, lifting them, helpless to the beast’s commands. Her fingers were working at undoing the buttons on his trousers. Shit, how he wanted this. How he wanted her.
The beast growled in possession. He’d have her. He’d please her body in a way she’d never felt before.
Pressing his palm to her soft silken skin, he traced the shadowed path up her leg, caressing her, drawing his claws over her. She released a gentle whimper.Yes, little vampress,the darkness inside him snarled.Feel me.
She pulled even more blood from him. How long had they been doing this? Some dull alarm clanged in the back of his mind, but to hell with warnings. He thrust his hand upward, reaching for that spot that would bring her the most pleasure.
A sharp, aching coldness stung through him, a pain gathering in his chest.
Wait, no. Something was wrong.
She took another protracted draw from his vein, her hand dipping into his open trousers.
“Aryana,” he gasped.
She drank more, and Zarathos’s vision blackened. He shook his head trying to clear it. “Aryan—”
The world closed off around him.
Chapter 8
Aryana
Aryana’s body had been lit ablaze.
Shadows slithered over her, grazing her skin, lingering on her cheek, her throat, her thighs, with a relentless chilling insistence.
The raging inferno in her veins, a harsh contrast to the icy darkness against her flesh, made her writhe, her body begging for a release.
Zarathos’s fingers curled beneath her skirts. Ah, he wanted this too. She drank more, drawing the nectar over her tongue, swallowing it down. She needed him. Oh gods, she needed him like she’d never needed anything before in her entireexistence.
Something was off with his blood. She could usually pull herself out of her haze and stop, but with Zarathos… With Zarathos, it felt so, so, so good. It was wrong. Something was wrong. And yet…
His fingers slipped closer to her center.
She dragged her hand over his sable chest, feeling every muscle, every spasm as her touch dipped inevitably lower. Now, she felt him straining against his trousers as she pulled the last button free.
Without a second thought, she reached in.
“Aryana,” Zarathos gasped. Light, clawed strokes scraped ever higher under her skirts, her core pulsing with a harsh anticipatory urgency that demanded gratification.
His bicep between her lips twitched as if he were about to retract it and she bit harder, taking more of his delectable essence inside of her.
