Page 23 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
Stop. I need to stop. I need to…
She moaned.
“Aran—”
Zarathos collapsed onto her.
Aryana gasped, jerking his arm away. When she sat up, the heat coursing through her cried out in dismay. She stared in amazement at the demon arch king slumped in her lap. She’d taken way too much.
Her body trembled at the intensity of the desire in her veins cooling. Maybe he’d recover, maybe—
She started to choke. She clutched at her throat, unable to breathe. What was happening? Vampires rarely choked or struggled to breathe, ever. Was his blood poisoning her?
But then she understood.Shewas dying because she was breaking their deal. Which meant Zarathos was dying. A dead demon arch king couldn’t win the Demon Trials.
He needed some of her blood.
She paled. This wasn’t allowed. Not on a harvest moon. The mating bond… darkness seeped into the corners of her vision. Damn it, shewouldn’tpass out.
She wheezed. If she didn’t do something, King Salen would find them in the morning completely lifeless.
His blood was in her veins. Would it revive him to feed it back to him? Enough time had passed that her body had added the rejuvenating effects of her vampire blood.
She had to hope it would work.
Not from her throat. No, that was much too obvious. Zarathos lay in her lap, his hand already up her skirts, exposing her bare skin. It was the fastest. She seized one of his clawed nails and suppressed a cry as she speared it into the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, making her bleed. She gripped his hair and hiked up her dress, shoving his face into that spot where the blood leaked, hoping it would be enough to revive him.
“Come on, Zarathos,” she gasped, as she swayed from side to side, fighting unconsciousness that would be their doom.
His tongue lapped against her thigh. It came out thin and pronged, unexpected, and wonderfully warm. He grasped her leg and buried his face in her. Shit, this actually felt good. She fell onto her hands and tipped back her head as her breathing began to clear and she could focus on the pleasure of him lapping up her blood.
But she couldn’t let this go forever. This time, she had to make sure that one of them had some sense of control.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Zarathos imbibed deeply from her veins, taking three long drags, his lips locked around her wound, and then drew away, swiping a hand over his face, clearing it of the lingering crimson.
A storm of panic filled his gaze as his eyes met hers. “Vampress. What the hell have you done?”
Chapter 9
Zarathos
Zarathos recoiled, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes locked on the mark blooming out around the wound in Aryana’s thigh. It curled inward, two serpents twining together as one.
He checked his bicep, his stomach plummeting. A matching mark encircled the spot where Aryana had drunk from him.
The Bloodbinding.
Fury ratcheted in his chest like an animal seeking to protect itself from danger.
He snarled and lunged at Aryana, pushing her to the floor, his hand curled abouther throat. “You planned this.”
She bared her teeth at him, hatred sparking in her eyes that had flooded a brilliant shade of crimson. “Yes, because I knew that you offering your blood to keep me alive was part of the bargain.”
The sarcastic drip of her voice only fueled his rage further.
“Don’t play games. It’s the harvest moon. What? You thought since I bound you in a deal, that you’d force me into one?”
She let out a derisive laugh. “You caught me, Zarathos. All I’ve ever wanted was to beyour wife.” She snorted. “As if that would make me any less your captive.”
