“And seeing as how the Arcane is what kept us from almost losing you yesterday, I’d feel a lot more comfortable if we try and keep it happy.” His eyes flick down to the blood bag on the counter and my fingers twitch in response, mere inches away. He dips his head, motioning for me to pick it up.
But I hold strong. He may have a point, but I’m reluctant to give in. Perhaps it’s because I truly don’t want to be indebted to Andras. Or perhaps it's because I love the look he gets in his eyes when I defy him. “I’ll drink if you drink.” I level my gaze at him, quirking my brow in challenge.
I don’t fully understand what’s going on between Quinn and Aamon, or between Aamon and feeding in general. But I’ve been among them long enough now that I’ve caught on to the way that Aamon rarely feeds—way less frequently than the other males—and the way Quinn is always fussing after him about it.
“Oh fuck yes,” Quinn growls, sliding past us and reaching into a cupboard on the other side of the kitchen, producing two tumblers. He returns to our side,slamming them down on the island between me and Aamon and breaking open the blood bag to fill each of them.
The metallic scent hits me as soon as he starts pouring, and I nearly snap. I flinch, forcing my body to go rigid so I don’t jump Quinn and wrestle the whole bag out of his hands. Gods do I want it all to myself. But I tamp down on my resolve, clinging to the tiny bit I can fabricate, and stick to my plan.
Aamon is watching all of this take place—Quinn pouring the blood, me trying to remain in control—with a stoic surety on his face. He seems completely unfazed by the blood, or at least exceptionally skilled at hiding how it affects him, and I find myself sneering at him in frustration. Quinn finishes his task and steps back, sticking the tube of the bag in his mouth and sucking down his own serving as he watches us.
“Ladies first,” Aamon drawls, nodding down to the glasses. My lips curl up into a devious grin.
“How do I know you'll keep your word?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. To my surprise, he steps forward, pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Angel, Ialwayskeep my word.”
I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him—rain, water running over river stones, the smallest hint of something earthy like moss or soil. He drops his hand, but it doesn't land by his side. Instead he reaches for his glass, his fingers curling around it and lifting it slowly to his lips. He doesn’tbreak eye contact with me as he swallows it down in one go, sending a wave of desire straight through me.
Fuck, why is everything he does so ridiculously hot?
He pulls the glass away, smacking his bloodstained lips as he sets it down on the counter. “Your turn,” he purrs.
“Hmm.” I let my eyes dart to his mouth, debating leaning forward and licking up the remnants of blood threatening to slip down his jaw; but he’s faster than me, and the motion of his tongue working over his lips has my core going molten. “I think I’m good, actually. Had a big dinner last night.”
I can see the flare in his eyes as he’s reminded of the encounter. “Angel,” he warns, and the word sounds like lust on his tongue. “Drink. Now.”
I take a step backwards. That’s it, just one tiny step. He’s on me before I can do more, his hand around my throat, pulling me into him so that my head tips up at the sudden movement. And before I can understand what he’s doing, his thumb is digging into the dimple of my chin and popping my mouth open.
He’s so incredibly strong, and even with my newfound power, I’m completely at his will. He lifts the other glass above my head—I hadn’t even seen him pick it up—and pours the thick, crimson liquid into my mouth.
“Swallow,” he orders.
I can’t seem to do anything but obey. It’s not just the desire pooling low within me, some innate need to pleasehim. It’s more than that. Like the magic in my veins can’t orwon’tsay no to him. Not when it's a direct order like this.
But I can barely focus on what it means as the blood hits my tongue. My eyes flutter closed and pure bliss explodes behind my eyelids. It’s not quite as good as when I fed from Aamon or Quinn, but damn is it close. I understand what Aamon warned me about now. This pleasure, this feeling . . . I'll be spending every waking moment of my life chasing after this. It’s better than sex, better than any high I’ve ever experienced. And I could see how one could easily lose sight of anything else but the bloodlust.
Too quickly, the stream is cut off and I open my eyes to find Aamon setting down the now empty glass beside his own. His hand on my throat recedes, but his thumb darts out at the last second to swipe away the blood pooling at the corner of my mouth. He takes his thumb between his lips, sucking as he holds my gaze and steps back.
Quinn’s slow clapping breaks me from Aamon’s spell. I lick my lips, running a hand through my hair as I try to bring myself back into the present. “That was—” Quinn shakes his head, pushing off the counter and taking a deep breath. The bag of blood he was finishing off lies on the counter behind him, empty and discarded. “I mean, wow. The tension? The pour? The bloodbound magic?” I cock my head, ready to ask him what he means, but he brings his fingers to his lips and makes a kissing sound. “What a beautiful,eroticmoment.”
“Fuck off,” Aamon grumbles, turning away and taking the two glasses to the sink.
“Oh, trust me, I’m going to.” Quinn grins, caging me in against the island as he leans in towards me. “Care to join me, Angel?” His lips find mine effortlessly and I chase after the taste of blood on his tongue. As if to reiterate his point, he grinds his hips against me, showing just how turned on the moment between me and Aamon has him.
“Evangeline!” The booming voice has me jumping, pulling away from Quinn as fast as possible and scrambling to get out of his arms. I turn towards the entrance of the kitchen, wiping my thumb and forefinger over my lips to get rid of the evidence of our kiss.
Andras is there, Laurel under his arm, with a wicked grin settled across his lips. “It’s so good to see you up and about.” His eyes flick over to Quinn, who’s rubbing the back of his neck, a smirk teasing his lips.
I scowl at him, tempted to elbow him in the ribs, but instead I clear my throat and focus back on Andras. “Yes, I—seem to be feeling much better.”
He nods, pleased with the news. I haven’t seen him since my first day here. I knew I was bound to run into him again, especially now that he’s my new Alpha. But I’d hoped to have more time to prepare. Or at least not be mid make-out with one of his Blood Order members when I did.
“Thank you,” I say quickly, fidgeting from side to side. “For everything you’ve done for me.” I gesture aroundvaguely. I hate feeling like I’m trying to curry favor with him, but at this point it would do me better to be on his good side rather than try to keep fighting his influence.
“Nonsense!” His voice boasts through the kitchen and I flinch at the volume. “You’re one of us now, after all. Yes?” He lowers his gaze, raising an eyebrow. And while it’s meant to be comforting, the statement feels like a challenge. Like some hidden threat is laced in the spaces between his words.
I blink, nodding hastily when I realize he’s waiting for a reply.
