“Lucien!” She gasps as I seal my mouth over her clit and suck, gently at first, then harder. My tongue moves in rapid circles, and I’m rewarded by the way her hips buck and jerk under my grip.
I spread her wider, using my thumbs to open her completely, exposing every vulnerable fold to my gaze and my mouth. She is beautiful like this, pink and slick and utterly at my mercy.
Then I’m balanced above her, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. I push in slowly, allowing her body time to accept me, inch by inch. I stretch her gently, hearing the choked breath she tries to swallow as I fill her. Her eyes flutter closed, dark lashes fanned against flushed cheeks, lips parted. I begin to move, slowly and deeply, and the sound she makes is exquisitely enticing.
I could lose myself in this—in her—so easily.
But there is a hunger deeper than desire. It settles in my gut, insistent, and it will not be resisted. I have never wanted to taste her more than I do now, the scent of her blood calling to me like a lover’s perfume. I hold myself back at first.
She hugs me tightly as I thrust, her legs around at my waist, and the pulse at her throat is maddening.
“Lucien,” she says, and I know she wants me to take control, wants to be consumed, and I am helpless before the invitation.
I lower my head, lips skimming over the delicate skin just above her jugular. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she bares her neck further. I sink my fangs into her neck with perfect precision, just enough to pierce the skin. The taste of her blood floods my mouth, sweet and laced with the magic that sets her apart from every human I have ever known. I drink, but only a little.
Rose moans, and her nails dig into my shoulders, leaving marks that will heal within minutes. The bed frame creaks beneath us, and her noises grow louder.
I fuck her harder, allowing the monster in me just enough chain. I want to mark her, make her mine, make every other man living or dead fade to nothing. She is writhing, panting, and I can feel her cunt clench as she comes.
I lick the wound closed, not wanting her to bleed more than I take, and she sags against me, boneless and spent, yet smiling.
She is not afraid. Not of me, not of this.
My thrusts slow, riding her through the peak, then I finally allow myself release, emptying into her with a groan.
After, I do not move. I listen to her heart slow from its frantic gallop to a steady canter, as I remain sheathed inside her, a reminder of how fully she has been claimed. Eventually I withdraw carefully, and lay beside her, propping myself on one elbow to watch her come back to herself.
“Holy shit.” Her voice is hoarse.
I smile. “Indeed.”
“Well,” she says finally. “That was unexpected.”
I chuckle. “I aim to be thorough.”
Rose stretches, satisfied. “So the green one, huh?”
“Definitely the green one.” I trace a finger along her collarbone. “Though I admit some bias in my assessment now.”
She reaches for my hand. “Thank you. For the dress. And the rest.”
I kiss her temple, inhaling the scent of her hair. “My pleasure.”
Rose’s smile turns wicked. “Definitely that, too.”
I rise, moving to the small bar in the corner to pour her a glass of water.
“Drink,” I say, returning to her side with the glass. She props herself up, unsteady, and I cradle the back of her neck as she takes it from my hand. She drains half the glass in one go, then hands it back, a drop of water trembling on her lower lip. I wipe it away with my thumb. “Good girl.”
She looks so thoroughly debauched, hair mussed and skin still flushed, that I want nothing more than to have her again.
Instead, I force myself to dampen a cloth with warm water, and gently clean her between her legs, instructing her to spread them for me once more. She smiles as she obliges me. After drying her, I gather her discarded clothing and help her dress.
“I always feel safe with you.”
I stare at her. Safe, with a creature like me. It is absurd, laughable, a sentiment no human has ever directed at me in all the centuries I have walked this earth. I, who have killed more people than she could ever name, who have, even tonight, given in to urges that most would call monstrous. “You are aware, I hope, of the irony.”
She laughs at me then, and throws her arms around my neck, kissing me hard. “I have to go. Please come to the ball, Lucien. I’m going with Drake as my date, but of course I want you there too. All of you.”
