Page 236 of Blood Curse

His eyes darkened.

I took off my jumper and let it fall over the chair. My boots followed, then my jeans. I kept my black vest and knickers on. This wasn’t sex, but I wouldn’t make it clinical to prove the choice was serious.

Stellan removed his coat and shirt. Candlelight moved over the lean muscle of his chest and caught in his silver hair. The scar beside his heart was the only mark that hadn’t faded.

I climbed onto the bed and sat against the pillows. He joined me, his thigh pressing along mine.

For a few seconds, we only breathed.

My human heart ran faster. He heard every beat.

“Come here,” I said.

Stellan cupped the back of my neck and kissed me.

There was nothing cautious in the kiss. His mouth opened mine, deep and warmed, and I felt the hunger he had held away from me sharpen. It didn’t frighten me. I had felt that hunger twisted by the Crown and watched him refuse it. This belonged to him.

I slid one hand over his bare chest and the other into his hair. He drew me across his lap. My knees settled on either side of his hips, and his arm locked around my waist.

His mouth travelled over my jaw.

The first touch at my throat was soft. He found my pulse with his lips and held there while it hammered against him.

I tilted my head and exposed more skin.

The connection between us opened wider. Love reached me first. Hunger followed, dark and clean.

Then his bite broke my skin.

Pain flashed hot enough to pull a cry from me. His grip tightened as my body jerked, holding me against the solid line of him. The pain changed when he drank. Each draw sent heat down my throat and across my breasts, my stomach, the insides of my thighs. It wasn’t pleasure, but it knew every road pleasure used.

My fingers clenched in his hair.

Stellan drank slowly.

I had fed him by choice twice. This felt different. He wasn’t taking enough to satisfy hunger and stopping. He was taking my heartbeat down with every pull.

The room softened at the edges. The fire blurred into gold. His skin grew warmer under my palm while mine began to cool.

I felt the exact moment instinct asked me to fight.

My body didn’t care about plans, paid rent or the future I chose. It recognised loss and threw panic into my limbs. I pulled in a breath and gripped Stellan’s shoulder.

He lifted his mouth.

Blood shone on his lips. His pupils had swallowed most of the blue in his eyes, but he was completely present.

“Keep going,” I whispered.

He kissed me once, tasting of iron and me, then returned to my throat.

The next pull stole the strength from my hands.

He changed our position without breaking contact, lowering me across the bed and covering my body with his. One arm supported my shoulders. The other rested over my ribs, where he could feel every weakening beat.

The connection carried what my voice couldn’t manage now. I let him feel my certainty. He gave me his control in return.

My pulse stumbled.