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The next day he falls back from the caravan so he’s not tempted by the humans and their little flickers of starlight. A brief taste isn’t worthwhile. Arsene promised. They shook on a deal.
He doesn’t join the fire at night. Instead he goes straight to their shared tent and waits, shaking with anticipation and need,his entire body tight as a trap wire. He lies awake for hours while Arsene completes his watch. He tracks Arsene’s movements through the bond, the hair standing up on his arms as Arsene draws nearer and nearer.
When the tent flap opens, Nur strikes.
He drags Arsene inside. Only the advantage of surprise lets him overpower the angel and pin him to the ground momentarily. Then Arsene catches on and he’s shoving Nur back bodily with hard, broad muscle.
“Get off,” he snarls.
Nur scrambles back. “You feel it too. You have to.”
“Your abominable appetite? Of course I do.” Arsene’s mouth twists in disgust. “I feel everything through the bond.”
“I have to feed!” Nur digs his claws into the bedroll.
“Another day. I’m tired.”
“Tomorrow? The day after?When?” he demands. “How can I be of use to you if I’m starving?”
Arsene groans. “I can’t. Tomorrow—I’ll come tomorrow night.”
“Do it now. Get it over with. Youpromised.”
He lunges and grapples the angel again, desperation giving him strength. Arsene goes tense under him, fear shadowing his eyes.
What could he possibly be afraid of?
This time he doesn’t push Nur off. Nur bears him to the ground, relishing the angel’s hard form against him. His whole body lights up with need. He yanks the frilly collar open, claws ripping the material in his clumsiness. The scent that’s teased him for too many nights rises from Arsene’s warm skin like an appetizer. Hunger dripping from his lips, Nur buries his face in it.
He bites. Arsene jerks under him. The rich elixir erupts into his mouth instantly and pours down his throat, filling him withwarmth beat by beat, racing to his core and through every vein, to the edge of every nerve. It’s better than any other soul he’s ever eaten—it sets him afire. With a groan, he digs his claws into broad shoulders and arches against the angel.
Heat drips down his spine and fills his gut, seeping lower, waking up his body in ways he hasn’t been woken since before he can remember. His cock stirs. Below it, in a more secret place, nerves tingle and swell. The strange, shivery feeling makes his eyes drift shut and his skin tighten.
A deep groan vibrates through Arsene’s chest. The angel goes tense, his muscles straining. He doesn’t toss Nur away. And his body responds.
His ribcage shudders. The thick bulge at his groin pulses and twitches against Nur’s thigh.
Yes. Yes!Nur writhes in triumph. The friction is so delicious it wrenches a cry from him, buried into the tender skin and muscle of Arsene’s neck. Sensations race up and down his spine. His hole twitches, clenching, seeking.So this is what it’s like to be a vergis.
Arousal makes the bond swell. Deep groans erupt from Arsene as he clutches the bedroll, driving Nur mad. It’s too much. Not enough. It’s bright and hot, spilling through him like the essence of a star.
He shouts, ripping his mouth free, blood dripping from his teeth into his eager throat as his whole being clenches and releases and his lower body pulses. Seed spills into his pants in hot bursts. He gasps as every sensation comes sharp and clear at once.
Arsene thrusts once, twice against him and lets out a choked noise. His scent bursts with sudden ripeness. The thick rod of his cock throbs hungrily through both their clothes, a burning brand.A promise. Nur feels its twitch of ecstasy like a tiny explosion in his chest, and they both lie panting for a moment.
Finally he can breathe, even though sparks still burst behind his eyes. He wipes his mouth and licks the excess blood from the back of his hand. It tingles on his tongue. He sucks back deep breaths of their mingled scents, the musk of arousal and the sharp-hot tang of seed. Harsh breathing fills the tent.
Arsene’s chest heaves. He doesn’t open his eyes as Nur rolls off him. Nur puts his tongue to the red ring of tooth marks on Arsene’s aristocratic neck, eager not to waste a single drop. The wound is already closing. Arsene’s throat twitches, and suddenly his hands come up.
“Enough,” he growls. “You got what you wanted.”
Nur flinches as strong hands shove him back. He settles back on his haunches.
“You liked it,” he mumbles, his tongue clumsy. He feels addled.
Arsene rolls over so his back is to Nur. “Next time, wait for me to come to you.”
“I’ll be dead by the timethathappens.” Nur gets to his feet, a chill trickling down his spine and banishing any lingering satisfaction. “Next time, don’t leave it for days and days. We had a deal.”
