Even her fear smelled sweet, like ripe berries splitting open. It made him want to bury his cock between her thighs, his fangs in her neck, until she forgot to be scared.
"Wait, Bastian, are you... Do you need—" Her soft voice wavered, and the sound of fear that tinged her tone only made him harder—it was the predator in him.
His hands tightened on her as he breathed her in raggedly. The sound of his breath was too loud, drowning out the roaring waves and howling air that battered against the side of the ship.
A red haze clouded his every thought, ridding him of the ability to rationalize. He knew she was scared, felt it, scented it. But he didn’t care. Just as he didn’t care he was already fucking up his promise to her.
She took a shaky breath, soft lips parting, revealing a flash of her tongue as it swiped over her lower lip. He wanted to chase after it.
"It’s okay," she whispered. Slowly, she brought a trembling hand up, wrist on display, revealing the blue and green veins threaded under her moonlit skin. Her other hand was still braced on his lower stomach, and he felt himself tense up at the hesitant feel of her fingers, curling in his rumpled shirt. "Go ahead, Bastian. You can d-drink from me. It’s okay," she repeated, voice low and desperate.
And that was what broke him. Her gentle, understanding innocence. The sort of gentleness that would be her downfall.
His head hung low, black hair falling into his eyes as he squeezed them shut. "Get away from me," he gritted out, "now."
He felt her shake her head, chin brushing his chest.
"N-no," she said, but there was no heat to it. "Ifeelhow you need me, how you need… blood. It’s like an ache under my skin. If it feels this way for me, I cannot fathom how it must pain you."
She didn’t know the half of it.
Bastian knew she wouldn’t leave him, so he must make her. Still, he would not go into her mind. He was lucid enough to realize that might shatter the tentative understanding they both had forged.
In a flash, Bastian stood, tugging her against his body, feeling the soft slide of her warm flesh against his, her shallow breaths puffing against him, waist indenting under his fingertips, wings fluttering at her back, softly as if they, too, knew a starving predator lurked. She gasped. His hands left her, and she stumbled into the wall, fingers curling against it to keep herself upright. The glass crunched under his boots as he moved to the far side of the small room—it wasn’t far enough.
The scent of blood brushed against his senses, taunting him. The fish blood he had forced down in Vale’s den had been salty and rancid, making bile rise to the back of his throat with the urge to expel it at the mere thought. It hadn’t been enough to sate him.
Nothing would but her.
She spoke lowly, but he didn’t hear. His fangs pulsed like the arousal straining against his pants. Her scent wrapped around him, more enticing than anything he had ever breathed before.
The bloodlust built up, up within him, and the lingering vestiges of his control slipped from his cold fingers like wisps of air.
Bastian snapped.
One blink, and he found himself moving across the floor, uncaring of the blood sticking to his boots or the glass and wood he crunched over.
Another blink, and his hands were on her, feeling her again.
The haze fell over him.
His knuckles brushed against the delicate feathers at her back as he gripped her carelessly, lifting her until her toes were clear off the ground. Blood dripped from her dainty feet. A softsound fell from her lips as he buried his face in her neck, his other hand tangling with her white curls and wrapping it around his fist, using it to tilt her head at the perfect angle to reveal her beautiful, unmarked throat.
Luella’s pulse thundered. He heard it. He saw it.
She was flush against his body. Though the ship rocked, he kept them both steady, forcing her further into the wall as he notched his leg between hers, pressed into the heat of her center.
"B-Bastian," she gasped.
He didn’t move his face from her neck. Her fear curled around him, filling the air, and as he pressed his thigh deeper into her core, she shivered. That fear turned thicker, infinitesimally, until it merged with sweet desire—tangled up with each other, warm and slick, making his cock twitch.
And Bastian pounced. Shattering like a windstorm against a rockface, his jaw unlocked, fangs throbbing, as he finally,finallyburied the sharp points in her neck. She shuddered against him as they slid inside her flesh, which gave way easily against the deadly prick of his predator’s fangs. He was made for this, and she was made for him.
He was sure of it.
Bastian may have cursed, but it wasn’t audible with the way his mouth was locked around her flesh, holding it between his teeth, fangs buried in her skin. He didn’t draw blood. Yet.
Her skin tasted of saltwater and thick smoke where she had lain among the dragon’s furs.
