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“That building … was damn cold. Like Moscow Two.”
She felt herself relax as she hadn’t relaxed in a long time, despite all that had just happened. He slipped his arm around her so that she settled her head on his shoulder, but she drew back so that she could look at him. She also needed the angle to present her wrist again, but he pushed it away and turned into her, shifting to look at her neck.
When she realized what he wanted, that he wanted her primary vein, her whole body rolled and arched, which in turn brought a soft hiss from between his lips as his forest scent suddenly drenched the space. Oh, God, this couldn’t be happening to her, that all her poetry was descending on her like a warm wave of the most erotic water, flowing over her, enticing her to do the forbidden.
She wanted to pull away from him and to offer her arm, to insist on her wrist or even the deep vein at her elbow, but she couldn’t, especially since she was having trouble breathing into the depths of her lungs.
Grace, he sent. Rest on top of me. Let me take you from your throat, just this once.
She stared into his eyes and her breath caught in a series of desperate hitches—and then her body completely betrayed her. She rolled onto him. Through the sheet she could feel the strength and bulk of his warrior’s body.
And that he was fully aroused.
She pulled her long hair over her shoulder to hang down her back. She lifted up and presented her throat. His lips settled on her skin as he enveloped her in his arms. She shifted several different ways to make sure she was comfortable so that once he started, he’d be able to keep drinking.
But the closeness and all the movement was very arousing.
“You smell of the sweet earth.”
“And you, of the forest.”
Oh … God.
He had enough strength to slide his hand over her nape and hold her steady. He licked her neck in long slow sweeps until her vein rose, which didn’t take but a few seconds. The next moment his fangs struck to just the right depth.
She cried out, not in pain. The sensation was exquisite. She couldn’t help what happened next as she spread her legs and settled herself on the hard curve of his muscular upper thigh. Her right hip was pressed up against his erection.
As he drank, desire for him spiked. She couldn’t but roll into him, taking pleasure on his leg. That she could feel how hard he was at the same time as his erection slid up and down her hip also kept her moving. She’d kept herself pure for so long.
But the feel of his mouth on her skin, of his fangs buried in her neck, of her blood leaving her body and flowing into his mouth, of all her strength strengthening him—all this worked like an aphrodisiac.
Her mind became a loose wandering thing and his body the hardness she needed. Her hips moved faster and his thigh rose in response, pushing back against her, increasing her pleasure. He held his hand tight against her nape in order to keep his fangs fixed into her throat.
He was groaning now. His free arm rubbed up and down her back then his fingers were suddenly stroking her wing-locks. Oh, God, she’d forgotten how good that could feel.
Leto. Leto. She had been married. She knew a man’s body, but should she touch him? Really touch him?
Leto.
I’m here. Let it go. Let it all go. Let it happen. I’m right here.
He was giving her such pleasure. She smoothed her hand along the sheet and found his hip.
He groaned and sucked harder. She found the stiff length of him and rubbed up and down, pressing him into her hip on the other side as she moved.
Oh, God, Grace. I’m going to come. If you keep doing that, I’ll come.
She didn’t stop and his voice in her head and the suction on her neck took her to the brink as he sent, I want my mouth on you.
The thought of Leto taking her down low sent her flying over the edge. I’m coming. She moved hard against his rubbing thigh. She came and came and came as she rubbed his arousal faster. She felt his c**k jerk as he began to release. His body arched suddenly and his fangs slid from her neck and he groaned long and loud at the ceiling.
She continued stroking him until his body finally quieted and he fell back against the bed. She followed, her legs still spread over his thigh, her body achy now and very tender. Her breathing began to ease. She rested on his chest, savoring the feel of his breaths, in and out.
Grace, thank you. That was … beautiful.
Yes, it was. But she felt greedy. She wanted more, so much more. Would he be able to go the distance with her? She wasn’t sure any man could.
She drew back, planting her hands on the pillow behind his head, careful not to catch his long hair in the press of her palms. She looked into his eyes. Who was this man, really? She knew that her path was bound to his in some mysterious, extraordinary way, just as she knew she was also bound to Casimir. But what could the end possibly be?
His color had returned and he had her blood on his mouth.
His arms were still around her and he was caressing her very slowly up and down her back to her waist. She didn’t know what possessed her but she wanted to taste her blood on him, she wanted to know what she tasted like.
She touched her lips to his but his scent interfered so that though she could taste a slight metallic flavor, her perceptions got completely lost in the smell of the forest that emanated from him, from his skin, even from his breath. When he parted his lips, she slid her tongue down the center of his and he groaned again.
She kissed him for a long time, then drew back. She shook her head. “Leto, why did you refuse my blood earlier?” Though she was pretty sure she already knew why, she needed to hear him say it.
His lips parted as though he meant to tell her, but he closed his mouth and sighed. His gaze shifted off to the right and he petted her hair in a long slow sweep that traveled over her shoulder and down her arm. “I’ve done terrible things in the name of my mission. I don’t think, after all that I’ve done against Endelle’s administration, that I’ll be able to survive what’s coming next. I don’t even think I should. You need to know that, even though the breh-hedden seems to have snagged us.”
“I was committed to the Convent, but I’m not sure I want to go back. I don’t know. Tonight seems to have changed everything.”
“Maybe it has, but never mind.” He pulled her against his chest, and the air swooshed from her lungs. “Let’s just get some rest. I suspect the next few days are going to be a bit rough.”
Grace wasn’t an idiot. Leto had been one of Greaves’s right-hand men for a century. He was famous for his betrayal of Endelle.
