I was mesmerized, unable to look away as Darius fed on my blood. It was a testament to his self-control that he stopped when he did. We both knew that if he had decided to drain me, there wasn't a damn thing I could've done about it. Hell, it had felt so good, I wouldn't have even tried to stop him.
“Exquisite.” Darius pulled back and met my gaze, his lips red with blood—myblood. For a moment he looked as delirious as I felt.
“You good?” I asked, breaking the spell.
Darius swiped his thumb across his mouth, then licked it, savoring every last drop. We were blood bound to each other now—a mutual promise, sealed with a bite. Greater vampires like Darius followed the old customs; if he reneged, his life would be forfeit.
And if I reneged, he had my consent—and the Council’s—to hunt me. To feed on me at will.
Again, images flooded my mind, raw and unbidden. My nude body, glistening and pale against his dark, silky sheets. My legs spread for him, trembling, desperate for the press of his cool, sensuous mouth on my thigh…
I grabbed the edge of the bar, forcing myself to take slow, even breaths until my heart rate returned to normal. The wounds on my wrist—two tiny, ruby-red puncture marks—had already begun to heal.
Vampires sure knew how to clean up their messes.
Apparently sated, Darius propped his elbows on the bar, resting his chin in his hands. “Counsel from a friend?”
I pushed my sleeve back down and shook off the last of my lingering fantasies, forcing out a laugh. "Is that what we are now? Friends?”
“Hey. You gave me a nickname. There’s no going back now.”
“Not to mention you’ve tasted me.”
“Yes, there is that.” Eyes turning serious, Darius leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Get it under control, Miss Desario.”
I knew he didn't mean my dirty little thoughts. Darius was talking about something much darker, much more dangerous.
Sound advice. Advice I had every intention of following. But how could I control something I didn’t even understand?
Sophie thought the coven could protect us—strength in numbers. And maybe that was true. But even if I could trust them with this secret, how long would they be able to keep me safe? And how could I be sure I wouldn’t hurtthem? Or Sophie? God, she was my closest friend. My sister, as far as I was concerned. If anything happened to her…
I shook my head to clear the morbid thoughts, then nodded for Darius to pour me another shot. Water wasn’t cutting it.
This time he left me the bottle.
I laughed sourly. “Is this going on my tab, too?”
“Put it on mine,” a deep, gravelly voice rumbled behind me.
I didn’t have to turn around to know who that voice belonged to, or to know that this time—unlike with the vampire—the hot pulse of desire between my thighs was as familiar and predictable as rain in the Bay.
As a witch, I could detect other supernaturals based on cues in my body. Vampires made me a little lightheaded—something to do with the threat my blood sensed. Encountering fae was like being in free fall—a swooping stomach, a strange giddiness in my chest. I had to see a shifter to pick them out—they moved with an instinctual, animalistic grace that was hard to miss if you knew what to watch for. Demons had a fiery scent—smoke and ash, matches, incense, sometimes a chemical kind of burning I could feel in the back of my throat, depending on the demon’s particular makeup.
The man standing behind me? My body responded to his presence in a way that had nothing to do with his mysterious demon fire.
A slow smile spread across my face. I’d missed him a lot more than I wanted to admit. "Welcome back, Ronan."
Nine
Gray
Ronan took the adjacent chair, enveloping me in his clove-and-campfire scent. I tried not to shiver as his shoulder brushed against mine.
Neither of us made a move to look at each other.
“Desario.” Cocking his head toward me, he said, “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a blood-sucker dive like this?”
“Looking for my future ex-husband, obviously.”
