Page 54 of The Temptation of Roan Island

She shivers, and goosebumps lift on her skin. “Y-you won’t hurt me.”

“True.” But she has no idea how easily she could hurt me, destroy me. I drag my teeth along the column of her neck. “I could do other things to you just as easily. Is that what you want?”

She sucks both lips into her mouth and slowly nods.

“Why did you run if this is what you want?” I lick from her collarbone up to the sensitive flesh behind her ear.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You can’t hide from me, Pippa. I’ll find you. Wherever you are. In any darkness.”

“Sh-Shemiah, you’re…”

“Are you scared, Pippa?” I test her shoulder with my teeth, using just enough pressure to let her feel the threat.

“Shemaiah.” She breathes my name more than says it. Tears form in her eyes, the mask no longer hiding her from me, lost somewhere along the way. “I trust you.”

I’m lost. Upended. A fervor mixed with fury swirls through me. My hearts pound, my body shakes. Don’t lose control. Don’t lose control. But it’s already lost. Salivating at her tart taste.

I lick her pulse point.

She gasps, her hands clutching my shoulders.

“Bite me,” she whispers.

And with a guttural moan, I do.

23

PIPPA

The moment he bites down—so gentle despite his intensity and gruffness before—I gasp, gripping his shoulders tightly. My heart thrashes against my ribs like a caged bird, beating in tandem with Shemaiah’s, our chests pressed together.

He frightens me, but not because I’m scared of him. It’s the feelings coursing through me that have me spooked. I’m caught in a tangle of my own making. The regret of lost time. The pleasure of seeing what Shemaiah did to the Frellmans, of witnessing their lovemaking. The desire to be with Shemaiah in that way, a desire I haven’t felt since before Tobias. Shame. Newfound hope. Temptation. Need. Trepidation.

“Oh,” I say, my voice a strange sound in my own ears.

Warmth slides through my body from my neck, lower, lower, heating me from the inside out. My core pulses, trying to grasp hold of something, but I’m empty. I moan at the tingling sensation, needing more.

“Shemaiah.” I grip his hair, pulling it.

His leather tie slips free, and his soft locks spill around my fingers. He groans, the sharp sting of his fangs a beautiful pain as he pulls blood from me, sucking deeply, his gentleness shifting toward urgency.

Sensations pulse inside me like flashes of lightning during a spring storm. Overwhelmed by the moment, I tug his hair hard. He glides a hand up my thigh, pushing my dress up with it. The area between my legs throbs as his fingers brush higher. He lifts me, holding tight as I wrap my freed legs around his waist, his mouth still attached to my neck.

His claws bite my backside, the fabric of my dress tearing as he grips harder. My bustle smashes against the wall so forcefully it cracks. He lifts up, then dips, rocking his hips against me, his rigid length pressing into me like a promise. I mewl at the intense friction, fireflies dancing behind my eyelids.

“Fuck,” he growls against the skin of my neck, rolling his hips again and again. I cross my ankles and push my feet into his backside, wanting more friction. Needing more friction. More him. More.

His teeth dig deeper, and a lightheaded, floaty feeling comes over me. He releases my shoulder, gasping. “You taste so good. So fucking good. I can’t stop. I’ve wanted...” He doesn’t continue his thought because his teeth are back in me, drawing more, swallowing, ravenous.

Between his venom and the firm pressure of his hard body, I’m broken open, torn apart. Thrills of pleasure race through my veins, tingle across my skin, and flutter deep inside.

I understand why people come here now—the addiction of the venom, the undeniable rapture. Shemaiah called it euphoric, but it’s more than that. It’s as if I’ve peeled away everything that binds me, everything that confines the world. I’m seeing it all for the first time, feeling it all anew. Colors are brighter. Sounds are more nuanced. The panting breaths he’s taking through his nose as he drinks. The distant laughter and piano music from the party. My own moans. All somehow richer and more alive.

It’s as if Shemaiah’s rewriting every cell in my body, waking me to a new reality, binding every cell of me to him until I’m completely his, and he’s completely mine.

But I’m not.