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“It means that the living cells will die, and that’s not something you want to happen, believe me.”
He stands so close that if I were taller our noses would probably be touching. He leans in even more and whispers in my ear, “You drank from my wrist before. How about this time you try my neck?”
I know I shouldn’t be getting turned on in this situation, especially since we’re discussing the possibility of my hand falling off, but I can’t help it. Ethan’s voice always manages to send a shiver through me, and the idea of drinking his blood again is more than appealing. The last time I did I was on a high for hours afterwards.
“Okay,” I reply softly, my eyes drawing instinctively to the subtle cords of muscle in his neck, the hard line of his jaw.
“You’ll have to cut me, honey,” he goes on, still whispering with a touch of humour. “I can’t bite my own neck for you.”
“Oh,” I breathe. Why does the idea of cutting Ethan seem so tantalizing? It’s not like I want to cut him in a harming way, I just think that giving him a little nick would be kind of…sexy? Yeah, my mind has definitely sunk to the gutter these days. Remembering the razor in my pocket, I pull it out.
Ethan smiles approvingly when I flick it open, but then he frowns when he recognises it. “Isn’t that the blade the slayer gave you?”
“Uh, yeah.”
His frown deepens, which really irritates me.
I roll my eyes. “Get over it. I don’t keep it for sentimental value. This blade has helped me out of a sticky situation or two. I guess that makes it my friend now.”
This seems to appease him. He nods and breathes deeply, awaiting the incision. Raising the blade to his golden skin, I press it in and cut a shallow line about two inches long. Some kind of urgency comes over him as he backs me up against the wall of the next building, his arms braced on either side of me. Licking my lips, I move my face to his neck, where a trickle of blood runs out. I lick it away and suck at the cut I made, the taste of it hitting me powerfully.
I relish the scent of Ethan’s skin and how his blood invigorates my entire body as it slides down my throat. I’ve only swallowed down about three gulps when he gently pulls my eager mouth away. His eyes are scorching when I look up at him. He rubs a thumb over my lower lip, and I feel the blood on my mouth smearing. My breathing quickens at the intense way he’s studying me, taking in my every feature.
A second later he swears, “Oh fuck it,” and then his lips are on mine, tasting his own blood in my mouth. I groan as his tongue strokes over my own, but I manage to push him away before anyone notices our clinch.
Seeming amused that I was self-conscious enough to break our moment of passion, Ethan takes my injured hand into his and massages it with his fingers. “See how quickly my blood heals you?” he asks.
I glance down to find the burned skin repairing right in front of my eyes. It’s miraculous. The relief is short lived though, because another thought instantly springs into my head. “Was it a bad idea for me to drink from you again? I don’t want to become addicted.”
He strokes a hand down my cheek. “You won’t become addicted. We’ll just be a little more bonded now.”
“Is bonded simply a nicer way of saying addicted?” I smirk.
Ethan smiles seductively. “You’re already addicted, just not in the way you’re imagining.”
I cock an amused eyebrow.
“I’m addicted too,” he adds. “God help me sometimes it can be to my detriment, but I am.”
The atmosphere bet
ween us suddenly turns serious. I can’t find the ability to say a single word, as Ethan asks, “Did you find time to look up the translation of what I said to you?”
His voice is laced with emotion now. Our gazes lock and I can’t look away.
“No,” I answer. “I forgot. What was it again…Te iubesc?”
“Yes, you should have looked it up.”
“Why?”
“Because it means I love you,” he tells me, deadpan. He slides his arms around my waist and holds me tight.
I suck in a shocked breath. Suddenly, all sound vanishes and all I can see is Ethan. I forget about the killing that’s happening on the streets below, about my friends on the other end of the roof.
“Did..did you mean it?” I stammer, my heart going ninety.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean, my love.”
