Page 20 of Stay with Me

The sweet voice in my head, the sudden shift in Twyla’s behavior, the baring of her neck.

This Royal and I...were we blood compatible? Could my blood call to her?

Surely not.

The mere thought of it was outrageous! She wasn’t even one of our kind. One tiny drop of her blood shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t affect me like this, taking over my body with an undeniable need.

Unless...

The words “Blood Mate” flit through my mind like a whisper and my body curled around her in a protective embrace, as though it was calling her home.

“You smell so good, Cedra Holloway. Why is that?”

I swallowed thickly.

My arms ached to just crush her to me and drive my fangs deep into her willing neck. I felt my need for her with an intensity that rattled my bones.

I’d always thought of myself as a rational being—logic first, pleasure later. That had always been so easy for me.

Not now.

I gave up on holding my fangs back, letting them descend against my bottom lip like an undisciplined teenager.

Take her, my being screamed. Take her now!

But Twyla wasn’t a willing Mate, not exactly.

I knew it in my soul, even though the haze of need enveloped us like the thickest fog.

I couldn’t see clearly, but I could feel clearly. And what I felt was wrong.

Because I’d taken her blood, my body called to her for a deeper connection, craving the intimacy that came with the sacred act of sharing blood. It was not fair to Twyla—a non-Fanger with no knowledge of our customs.

But it didn’t stop my breath from catching audibly as she pressed herself against me, willing and pliant, neck bared.

My heart pulsed wildly in my chest, pushing me to take the pleasure that was offered like the sweetest addictive hit of honey.

There was a legend that before humans interweaved their DNA with other species to survive on faraway planets, blood calls were used by animals to lure prey. To daze them with an attractive scent until they were malleable and an easy hunt.

I recalled watching a docu-vid about it in school—a beast of sorts on the hunt for a smaller animal that was so stunned by a certain pheromone, it couldn’t flee.

That’s what Twyla was...the stunned helpless being standing still in an open field, just waiting to be devoured.

I placed a hand under her chin and tilted her head upwards to catch my gaze. Her pupils were so dilated, I could barely see the brown of her eyes.

“Twyla,” I said, my voice hard, hoping to shock her out of the daze.

“Yes, Cedra Holloway,” she breathed, her eyes still half-lidded, fingers seeking my bare skin, making my blood come alive.

Her voice landed like a punch to my gut.

She wet her lips, making their curved, pillowy softness even more tempting than they already were.

“Twyla, you need to snap out of this. It’s not real...”

That was as far as I got before she reached up to cup the back of my neck and pulled me in for a kiss.

Urgent—that’s what the kiss was. Urgent with her need and her desire.

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