Page 51 of Happily Ever Bitten (Underworld Royals 2)

You kept coming back, I whispered to him as my tongue tangled with his.

I couldn’t bear your suffering, Zay. At least, that was my excuse at first. Then it became more. So much more.

His thumb stroked the pulse at my neck, his palm shifting to my nape. I need to see into your mind, Zay.

I know.

Consuming some of your blood will help, he added, his kiss slowing to a dangerously sensual pace. I need to bite you. He punctuated his words by drawing a heated circle around the sensitive spot on my neck, causing goose bumps to pebble up and down my arms.

The stirring of a memory taunted the edges of my mind. His breath against my neck. Teeth puncturing my skin. A groan of approval leaving his throat. I nearly moaned in response, the thought so vivid and real that I almost thought he was doing it to me now, but his lips were still pressed to mine, his tongue completing a slow dance inside my mouth.

You’ve bitten me before, I realized.

Yes, he whispered. The night I saved you. I needed your essence to complete the life transfer that saved you.

I shivered. I liked it. And how messed up was that? It’d been the worst night of my life, yet I’d found some joy in the experience I shared with Grigory. The one that had tied us together and brought me back to life.

It revitalized you, he replied, his power humming through my veins. It’s not wrong to enjoy that.

I considered that. He was right, and yet… A part of me wanted to die that night.

I know.

You made me live.

No. You made yourself live, Zay. I just helped you along. And I would do it all again, even if it made you hate me, he whispered into my mind. You’re not my burden, Zay. You’re my savior. You provided the distraction I didn’t know I needed. You’ve helped me survive the last year of my own hell, something I’m only now realizing. His tongue slid against mine, his mental words a passionate caress.

I drew my fingers up his arm, needing to touch him. My palm curled around his shoulder, my heart beating fast in my chest. Reality is so much better than my dreams, I mused, adoring the way his muscles bunched beneath his shirt.

He smiled against my mouth. Yes, but those fantasies provided us with the taste we needed.

Not completely, I told him. You were the only one allowed to taste.

“Do you want to taste me, Zaya?” he asked out loud, his voice deep and seductive and holding a dark note that made my heart race.

“Yes.” The husky quality of my voice sounded so foreign to my ears.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his nose drawing along my cheekbone as he moved his lips to my ear. “Maybe we can play after this is done.”

“Maybe?” I repeated.

“Do you require more certainty?” he asked in a low whisper. “Shall I vow to let you taste me when we’re done?”

Oh, that tone… I tried to squeeze my thighs, but his leg kept me from seeking the friction I desired. A moan caught in my throat, my blood raging through my veins. “I like the idea of a vow.” Because it meant he trusted me and knew whatever he found lurking in my head wouldn’t incriminate me.

Grigory already believed my innocence, even with the evidence in front of him. I could feel it in his mind, the uncertainty of it all, his true disbelief that I would kill Yakariah in such a gruesome manner. A part of me fell for him a little harder.

Hell, that was a lie.

I’d fallen for this man months ago, and not just because of the dreams. I admired his courage and strength, his willingness to do what was right, his ability to help others, and his faith in me. It’d been there from the beginning—with each lesson, each push in the right direction, he ensured I wasn’t just alive, but strong, too.

He called me his savior, but in truth, he was mine.

His lips skated down the column of my neck, to the tender pulse that called his name. He tasted my skin, his growl of approval vibrating me in all the right places. “I’m going to bite you, Zay.”

“I know.” I angled my head, providing him with the access he needed. It was my version of consent. I also spoke it through my mind, telling him I trusted him not to hurt me.

I won’t, he promised, his fangs elongating to sharp points against my skin. I’ll be quick.

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