When he reached her face, her eyes were half-closed, her lips were parted, and her cheeks were flushed in a way that he was going to picture every time he closed his own eyes for the next thousand years.
"Hello," he said.
She laughed weakly. "Hello."
"You all right?"
She nodded. "I never imagined…I don't have words."
"That's all right."
"That was?—"
"I know."
"I love you."
He kissed her, slowly, and she returned the kiss with the languid satisfaction of a girl who had just discovered something new and wonderful about herself and didn't yet know what to do with the discovery. She lifted her hand and traced the line of his jaw with her finger, her thumb brushing his lower lip.
She went still. "Your fangs are out," she whispered.
"They are." They were only partially elongated because he was forcing them not to extend fully. It was better if she didn't see them at their full length before the first bite.
"Will you bite me tonight?"
"Yes."
Her thumb stayed where it was, tracing his lower lip, and her eyes searched his face.
"I want you to," she said.
"I know."
"I'm not afraid."
"I know that too."
She ground her hips up against him, her body warm and slick from her release, and the pressure of her against him took the last of his composure and put it on a shelf somewhere out of his reach.
"Ruvon," she whispered.
"Yes."
"Make us one."
He shifted his weight, bracing himself on one forearm beside her head, and reached down with his other hand to guide himself. He'd been so hard for so long that it was painful.
He pressed against her, and she gasped, and he stopped.
"Easy," he whispered.
"It's okay. Just keep going."
He pushed in just the smallest amount, and she winced before she could school her face.
He stopped immediately. "Sweetheart?—"
"Don't stop. I'm okay."
