Page 189 of Halfblood Deceived

He took a step closer to her, placing his hands on the railing on each side of her legs and leaning in. His face was a few inches away from hers. “And who is your type, precisely? Perhaps someone as grumpy as you are? Someone with brown hair, brown eyes, and a daughter you adore?”

Mari lifted a finger, the tip shining with verdant magic. “One more word about who my type might be, and I’ll turn you into a tree.”

“I might not be the only one who has to admit some hard-to-swallow truths, Mari,” Zeydan pressed, unmoved by her threat.

Mari let out a short breath, closing her eyes for a second. A sign of vulnerability Zeydan knew she didn’t allow many to see. “Perhaps not,” she conceded. “But it won’t happen tonight, or in the next decade.” She gulped. “Now stop dallying and fucking bite me, you nosy idiot. You look terrible and you need your strength for tonight.”

“You really have such a way with words,” Zeydan drawled.

“Bite me,” Mari grumbled, then huffed. “Literally.”

Zeydan half smiled. He took a deep breath and wrapped his left arm around Mari’s waist, cradling the back of her head in his right hand. His mouth watered with her scent—wisteria, apricot, sunlight, and mint. There was an undertone of sage and other plants she’d used to make potions earlier, too.

If he’d felt even the slightest doubt, he would have called it off, but Mari sighed, arching her neck. Her pulse visibly ratcheted, and he felt her anticipation and curiosity echo in his chest. His fangs pushed down urgently, but he held back.

The few times he’d bitten her before, they’d been in the middle of a battle or the aftermath. And he’d barely had the presence of mind to take most of the pain away.

“Any time this century would be fine,” Mari said, her voice slightly breathy.

Zeydan leaned in closer, her green-yellow hair tickling his nose, and bit right over her delicate vein. Mari lost a breath. Her small hands came up to grip his shoulders and pull him closer.

Finding the middle ground between making the bite painless and causing pleasure was tricky, but Zeydan had plenty of practice with Gabby.

He took a measured gulp. Her blood was delicious. The taste matched her scent, mixed with something like blueberry wine. He felt his baser side stir, demanding he took and took, but he kicked the impulse down and drank carefully. He removed the pain and focused on letting her feel only warmth.

Mari went pliant in his arms, a soft sound of contentment leaving her throat. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her back arched with delight.

Zeydan used half his focus to prevent any sensations from straying into lustful territory. He didn’t want Mari like that, never had, nor did she want him. But they were friends, and they loved each other, and there wasn’t a life-or-death situation to distract them. So the lines could get a little blurry for them both if they allowed it.

Zeydan stopped after the tenth mouthful. He licked the double puncture marks until they vanished completely and then pulled back to look at Mari. “Are you alright?”

She hummed, eyelids heavy and a smile on her face. “Perfect. That has no right to feel so fucking good.”

Zeydan chuckled, licking a stray drop from the corner of his mouth. Her blood settled in his stomach, warm and gentle, sending energy to his whole body. He felt more awake. His headache was gone. “Thank you.”

Mari sighed. “You are welcome. I might let you do that again sometime.”

“You are a very odd person,” he commented, still confused as to why she’d insisted on letting him feed on her.

Mari shrugged. “I’m perfectly aware. Now be useful and carry me to bed. I need a nap.”

He lifted her in his arms at once and headed toward the open French doors that lead into a parlor. “I didn’t take too much, did I?”

“Nah,” Mari said, snuggling closer to him with an arm around his neck. “I knew I’d get sleepy afterwards. It’s happened every time you’ve fed on me before. So thank you for helping me with my insomnia.”

Zeydan huffed. “Oh, wow. Now I feel used.”

Mari patted the hand he had around her legs. “There, there, pretty boy.”

Zeydan shook his head and headed down the dark hall that led to Mari’s room.

He opened the door with his telekinesis and went inside, lowering the duvet with his mind before gently placing Mari in her bed.

“Shoes,” she commanded without opening her eyes.

“Brat,” he said, but obliged and then tucked her in.

Mari opened her eyes, fixing him with an uncharacteristically open, melancholic stare. “Thank you for saving him when I couldn’t.”

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