Page 90 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

A timer went off and he surged to his feet, eager to get the loaf of lemon blueberry bread iced. As it cooled, he made Lily’s hot chocolate, then loaded everything on a tray. When he reached her door, he hesitated. Her giggles on the other side made his lips twitch. He listened to the way she cooed at Cinna while they were alone.

When he could wait no longer, he knocked.

“Come in,” she called, her voice bright with excitement. His heart did that annoying thing again where it fluttered. He ignored it, entering her chambers.

He caught sight of her sprawled on her belly. His gaze lingered on the length of her bare legs. The way her sleep shorts barely covered her panties. She wore a matching silky top that hugged her curves in a way that had him tracing them.

Her head snapped in his direction. When her gaze lingered, taking him in, he all but preened. He liked it—her attention. He liked it a lot.

“Hi,” she breathed, then turned back to Cinna.

His chest expanded, muscles relaxing. Breathing when it wasn’t necessary. “How is she doing tonight?”

“I almost taught her to shake.”

“Indeed? May I see?” He strode over and set the tray down, taking a seat on the sofa to watch.

“All right, Cinna, let’s show him.” She got up on her knees and positioned Cinnamon into a sitting stance, then reached her hand out and said, “Cinna, shake.” Cinna’s head tilted. “Shake,” she said again. Cinna yapped, then darted away to grab a toy.

Lily laughed. The full-bodied sound made his stomach lurch. He stared at her, mesmerized. How had he ever thought her anything but beautifully devastating?

“Okay, well, she almost did it earlier. I guess we need a little more work, don’t we darling?” She snatched Cinna into her arms and hugged her, then released her to go play.

A pinch of irrational jealousy made him glance away from the puppy. Because that was ridiculous. He didn’t get jealous of dogs. Didn’t get jealous, period.

Lily stood, her movements growing hesitant. She glanced at him and then at the tray. “I’m hungry,” she whispered, her throat bobbing.

He leaned forward, almost unintentionally, as if his body was trying to get closer to her. It had been four days. He’d wondered how long it would be until she would want to feed again. He’d selfishly hoped it would happen sooner than later.

Remaining calm, he casually planted his forearms on his knees. “Which would you like first, little flower?”

Her tongue darted out, licking her lips. He traced the movement, unable to stop himself. It was answer enough, even if she didn’t know it.

He surged to his feet. In a single blink, he was behind her. She gasped, going perfectly still. He’d been careful to avoid things like this, moving quickly and scaring her. But the transformation he’d witnessed over the past few days—he took his chances. He was rewarded when no scent of fear met his nose. Only eagerness and the spicy tang of her growing arousal. That alone sent his brain into a tailspin.

He bit into his wrist and held it in front of her. He wanted this. To feed her. To give her something only he could provide. To feel the pleasure that had at first surprised him.

She sucked in a breath and pulled his wrist to her mouth. The warmth of her tongue had heat shooting up his arm. The first drag made him groan. Delight exploded outward from his chest, downward, pooling at the base of his cock. His balls tightened—an unexpected shock that had caught him off guard that first time.

“That’s it, little flower,” he crooned, his lips against her ear. She shivered at the feel of him. “Take what you want. It’s yours. Only yours.” His hand lifted, running through her long hair. So soft. So thick and beautiful. He let his cheek rest against it, rubbing.

She was tall for a female. Only a few inches shorter than him. He liked that.

A deep sound came from her. He tightened everywhere. Fuck.

For long minutes, she lost herself to feeding, gulping him down and taking him inside her. He dragged her against him to better feel her. To smell her. He found her neck, running his nose along it, and growled. She didn’t stop, didn’t stiffen at his touch. The remaining blood in his body dropped straight to his dick. “Fuck,” he hissed, angling his hips away⁠—

It had been centuries since he’d gotten hard, longer still since he’d lost control of himself. Ice replaced heat. He immediately sobered. What the fuck was he doing with his teeth at her neck, ready to bite?! He pulled his head back, putting his fangs away.

Lily hadn’t noticed, thank the gods.

She let out a little mewl, then another. He pressed his lips between his teeth, fighting for control. He liked her little noises. Liked them a great deal. His wrist began to close, the supply diminishing. He smelled her arousal—it made his dick painfully harder. She had to be dripping by now, her panties soaked. He didn’t allow his hand to drift downward, didn’t give in to the temptation to feel her.

When was the last time he’d bothered with the carnal act humans enjoyed? He couldn’t recall. It was as foreign as the erection straining his pants.

His mind was lost. Out of control.

What would she feel like inside? Tight and warm and wet? What would it be like, taking her blood into himself while burying himself in her? What would her cunt taste like if he spread her thighs wide, feasted between them? A frustrated growl rose, rumbling his chest.