Page 16 of Claimed By Blood

With his arms around me, his scent enveloping me with every breath, it’s hard to think of my reasons to remain calm and unaffected. I’m thirsty—something I’ve been carefully avoiding since I returned to Court—and he’s rightthere. His blood tempts me in a way none of the bagged stuff ever could.

He’s my thrall. My body wants me to take advantage of that. He’s also very male and very, very nude. My thick pyjamas are doingnothingto disguise the hardness of him pressing into my ass.

“This is toxic,” I whisper. “This mess of lust and hunger and hatred I have for you and you feelnothingfor me in return. You’re a void on the other end of our bond.”

Draven strokes a piece of my hair away from my throat.

“So you want me to feel? Do you wish I could give you sweet little words like your omega and your beta?”

“It would be fake.”

His lips trace my pulse, followed by the barest caress of his fangs.

“You know what amuses me?” he asks, trailing those feather-light kisses up to my jaw. “You think what we have is toxic, when in reality it’s the simplest relationship you’ll ever have.”

“How so?”

I feel his grin against my neck. “Youownme. Period.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do own him. But owning Draven is a bit like owning a rabid dog.

Every now and again, you expect to get bitten.

His fangs sink into me on the heels of his statement. I can’t hold back the strangled, surprised moan which escapes my throat. His venom is a subtle, dangerous thing. Sliding through my veins like bubbles in my blood. Igniting a fire that sparks across my nerves until my nipples pebble against the soft fabric of my top.

In revenge, I yank his arm up to my own mouth and bite down on his wrist.

Thanks to just one mouthful of my powerful blood, his hands have completely regenerated. I take my first sip as he withdraws his fangs from my neck and licks the wound shut.

I’m surprised he stopped so quickly. He barely used enough venom to give me more than a light buzz.

I’m aroused, but a far cry away from sobbing and being mindless with need. I could easily shove him away and tell him to stop.

It would be the smart thing to do.

Apparently, I’m not that smart.

I cradle his wrist against my own face, as he moves us the last few paces until we’re on the bed. I don’t even fight him as he manipulates me until I’m bent backwards over the mattress, still sucking greedily on his arm. That smoky note to his blood is still there, exactly as I remember it.

His free hand finds the waistband of my trousers and a single finger hooks beneath it, tugging experimentally.

“If you don’t want this, now’s the time to tell me to fuck off,” he murmurs.

My traitorous fangs just dig in harder, delivering a fresh shot of my own, more powerful, venom to his bloodstream.

“Good.”

In one swipe of his claws, my pyjama bottoms fall away, shredded. He kicks my legs open and delves between them with his free hand, groaning when he discovers the damning evidence of just how much I want this.

“Poor doll, you’re soaked.”

The fake pity in his voice does something to me, and I clench on nothingness as his fingers play in the dripping folds of my sex, spreading fire and moisture everywhere he touches.

I withdraw my fangs and don’t bother licking the wound to close it. Snapping my legs around his waist, I flip us until he’s on his back beneath me.

“I still hate you,” I growl, sinking my fangs into his jugular.

“Good,” he retorts, bucking up against me so his erect dick rubs across my sopping pussy.

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