Page 16 of Yearning For Her

He was adrift in a sea of heat, his body languid, his mind at ease, untethered from reality. That warmth suffused him. It had become him. No body, no soul, just pure, undiluted pleasure. He didn’t want to move, didn’t have to move. He was wholly satisfied.

Willow…

Her name resonated through his spirit. It left its mark on every bit of him, emblazoned itself on his being. This bliss, this satiation, it was because of her. How had she accomplished what no one else had in all Kian’s existence?

The moment he’d seen her in front of Reverb, he’d wanted her. Something about Willow had called to him. He’d even considered breaking one of his rules and pursuing her despite her clear involvement with the man she’d been walking alongside. Kian had nearly dropped to his knees to thank the Fates when Willow had emerged from the restaurant not fifteen minutes later, alone and vulnerable.

Never under sunlight or starlight had there existed a mortal so beautiful to his eyes, so tempting to his hunger.

A low, distant groan echoed through the warmth cocooning his consciousness. It took him a moment to realize that it had come from his own throat. His body was still there, however far away it felt, and it was still his. But the willpower required to make it move…

Why waste the precious energy he’d been gifted?

To have more.

Yes, that was reason enough.

Not once in four hundred years had he been anything but hungry. Feeding had always abated his hunger, but he’d never once known what it was like to be replete. Not until tonight. And even experiencing it now wouldn’t stop him from seeking more. More of Willow, more of her delectable, potent pleasure.

Kian followed a few simple rules when he hunted—never pursue prey with existing romantic partnerships, never feed from the same source twice, never let mortals know his true nature.

But by light and dark, he’d never had anything like Willow. He’d made exceptions for his first rule, hadn’t he? He’d fucked couples who had desired a third sexual partner. He’d fed from both at once.

So why not break his second rule? Why not feed from Willow again? After what they’d shared, after experiencing the masterpiece wrought by the joining of their bodies and souls, he doubted she’d resist.

He willed his awareness of his body to return, but his muscles were sluggish and uncooperative. He felt like a lion that had gorged itself on meat. When his hands finally complied with his outlandish request to seek the luscious female he’d taken to bed, they encountered naught but the rumpled comforter to either side of him.

Kian stretched his arms, expanding his search, yet all he found was more bedding.

Only then did he notice the stifling silence of the room. All the sounds that gradually came to his ears were from outside—the whooshes of cars passing on the road; the sad, muted wailing of faraway emergency sirens; the muffled voices from a TV turned much too loud somewhere down the hall.

No satisfied sighs. No hums of contentment. No soft, even breathing.

Another groan escaped him, this one from deeper down, on the verge of becoming a growl. The tranquility of his red haze wavered, and shadowy striations broke the glow.

His eyelids fluttered, battling him for having had the audacity to demand they open. With a growl, Kian shed his lingering grogginess and shoved himself into a sitting position. His hair fell over his shoulder and brushed his chest. The sensation was an empty mockery of how it had felt to have Willow’s hair sweep across his skin while she rode him, while she moved that enticing body of hers, while she sought greater and greater pleasure.

The orangey glow of the bedside lamp bathed the hotel room. The curtains were closed, the television was off, and the bathroom door stood open, revealing the dark, empty room beyond. Kian’s clothes remained on the floor where he’d discarded them, but Willow’s were gone.

She was gone.

The clock on the nightstand read four-eighteen A.M.

He bent his knees, rested his arms upon them, and covered his face, massaging his eyes. He’d slept for hours, oblivious to everything around him.

And she was gone.

That didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be right.

Filling his lungs with air, he stilled. Her sweet fragrance, reminiscent of violets—along with the scent they’d created together—lingered, but it was faint. Too faint. How long had she been gone?

“A night of firsts,” he muttered.

He’d never needed sleep, and on the rare occasions during which he’d intentionally slumbered, it had always been briefly and lightly, and only to walk through his memories. Yet what need had Kian to wander such reveries when true pleasure could only be found here in the present?

Still, after fucking Willow… It hadn’t been a choice. He’d fallen asleep as quickly and deeply as though she’d invoked his true name and commanded it of him.

But she was mortal, and he’d granted her no such power over him. He never would. Whatever had happened had been a result of the sustenance she’d provided. An aftereffect of her intoxicating, ambrosial pleasure.

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