Page 7 of Night Fall
Mya turned, a smirk tugging her lips. She gave into her blood lust and her vision faded to red. She took one step and pressed her toes to the path, ready to jump, to soar along the roofs of the buildings until she reached her prey. She lowered herself, feeling her energy build, and then—
An arm wrapped around her torso, the heavy weight keeping her still. Before she could even think to struggle, she was pulled back into the shadow of the alley.
The scent of pine, ash, smoke, and cinnamon hit her on her next inhale, and she froze.
Erik.
He cannot see me like this, she thought. He cannot know.
But he stood in front of her, plain as day, and his stare was as tangible as the fingers he ran over the torn areas of her gown.
She tried to speak to him, to tell him to leave her, to let her go, but she was not in control. The words came out garbled, incomprehensible, and it only shamed her more.
“Who touched you, fagr skjaldmær min?” he asked, his voice low, so calm and deadly that her skin broke out in chills.
Mya could not tell him. Not only because she could not voice the words, but because it pained her too. Erik’s presence had always made her feel safe, as if he were her home. She trusted him to always come to her aid, but the thought of him doing so now threw her into a panic. If she told him, he would take on her battle. He would kill the men she was meant to kill, and therein lay the problem.
This was not for him to solve. This was not for him to do. She could not rely on him this time, and she refused to let him interfere. Too much could go wrong, and she would not let him implicate himself in his act of heroism. She wanted to prove to herself, to him, that she was just as much as a warrior as he, that she could be just as ruthless, calculating, and brave.
She would not miss this chance.
She would not let those men win.
Her blood lust pulsed under her emotions, twisting her desires into a desperate need for survival. The weight of her embarrassment, shame, guilt, anger, disappointment, hatred, and love merged into something ugly, and for the first time in her life she fought against Erik. She tried to push him away. When that did not work, she tried to hit and punch him, but he simply grabbed her hands by her wrists and shoved her back against the wall. The movement only made her fight more. Her consciousness ached because she could not break out of her blood lust.
She felt outside of her body again, and the sight she saw devastated her. She did not recognize the woman struggling against Erik. She was so lost, so chaotic, her jaw snapping at him as she tried to free her hands and claw at his skin. Mya would have never tried to hurt Erik. She did not want to rely on him, and she wanted him to let her go, but not like this. This was not her, but she did not know how to regain her senses.
Tears dropped from her lashes as she realized that even with this power, she was weak. If she could not use her mind and be in control of her heart and body, what good was she to anyone?
She tried again to speak to Erik. The words were even more garbled now, coming out as feral, animalistic sounds and snarls, but somehow he knew. Erik used his body to keep her pinned against the wall. He grabbed hold of her neck, grasping it between his thumb and pointer finger. His hands were so large that his fingers reached under her ear, but his touch was gentle as he whispered, “I will not let you suffer this, fagr skjaldmær min. Forgive me.”
His free hand slid into her hair, fisting the strands at her scalp. He tilted her face to his, holding her in place and then his lips came down against hers.
THREE
Everything in her stopped.
Her fight, her thoughts, her heart, her very breath all ground to a halt when he kissed her.
Sensations she had never known took her over. Erik’s lips were soft, so warm and firm against her own. Gently he moved them against hers, and eventually she began to follow his movements. Mya did not feel the shift in her blood lust, did not even sense that it had started to die down, that the emotions that had once powered her change were now morphing into something else, something undeniable, incontrollable: desire.
Erik broke away from her, leaving her gasping both for breath and for his return. Mya tried to follow, but his hand was still in her hair, grasping the strands tighter, and she hoped, nearly prayed, that it meant he felt a shred of what she did.
Mya wished she could voice the words, that she was more experienced in this, but she was too breathless, too shocked and senseless to be able to speak. Then she peered into his silver eyes, and she saw it: the same desire was mirrored in them, an abundant hunger that was both dark and heavenly.
One moment, just one breath, passed, as if he was trying to win some internal battle, and then he was back on her again. She welcomed him. She knew better now, moving her lips against his, and as a reward Erik took her to new heights.
He licked the seam of her lips, triggering a breathless moan from her. She felt his tongue again, and when she parted her lips he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, coaxing a hum of satisfaction from her.
He teased her relentlessly, licking inside her mouth only to pull back and repeat the action all over again, as if this was some game, a source of amusement for him when it only left her wanting more.
She could not touch him, could not drag him closer. Her hands were still clasped behind her, and her body still pressed between his and the wall. Mya could not even pull her head away from the grasp he had on her hair, and every tug when she tried both frustrated and exhilarated her.
Erik was in control of this entire experience, and while she loved that she could surrender to him, she also wanted to give him something, to show him and herself she could bring him the same pleasure he brought her. So, when he left her mouth, a strand of saliva being the only thing that connected the two of them, and then returned, she opened her mouth, caught his lower lip, and sucked.
Erik’s body tensed, straining against hers, so Mya did it again. This time her canines caught the skin of his lip. They were still sharp, sharper than she was used to, and without meaning to she cut his lip open. Two droplets of blood entered her mouth, dripping onto her tongue.
A tremor passed through her entire body, and although she knew it might be wrong— that she had never asked Erik’s permission to drink his blood—she could not stop herself from tasting him, from sucking his blood into her mouth.
