Page 109 of Mortdale

“I’ll not risk it,” he said, but pulled me even closer to him until I had to tip my head back to look at him.

Shoving my sleeve up, I put my wrist in front of his face. “Drink. I will not sit here and watch you kill yourself.”

He ran his hands over his face, muttering a long string of words in that gibberish tongue of his. “Willow—”

“I know you find it disgusting, but just pinch your nose and get to sipping. Vein, artery, what do you prefer? I suppose arteries. Gets it over and done with quickly. Carotid?” I asked, pulling my hair back to show him my neck.

His nostrils flattered, and he slipped away from me, raking his fingers through his hair as he paced around his study.

“Would you prefer I fill a glass up?” I asked, leaning against his desk, barely hearing myself stutter because of the insanely loud pulse drumming against my ears.

After sputtering another long string of words in his vampiric tongue, he turned to me again, slowly eating the distance between us and stopping mere inches from me. Watching me, he reached for one of the ties still fastened around my neck, pulling the silken material slowly until it pooled on the floor between us.

He slid the second tie off, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply before dropping it to the ground. And then he grasped the ends of the third one, pulling me closer to him. He captured my lips in one quick, harsh kiss. “I can’t, honey.”

“But you want to?”

With his chest pressed tightly to mine, I could almost feel his pulse in my throat. “Badly.”

“I thought you hated the taste.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up when blood gushed down my nose. “I know you’re scared,” he said.

“I’m not scared,” I said, licking the blood off my lips.

His mouth met mine, and he reached to undo the tie holding my borrowed trousers up, letting them both pool to my feet. Lifting me onto the table, he spread my naked thighs with his knee, settling between them.

His lips skimmed over the column of my throat, careful at first. Then his kisses turned harsh, demanding as he ran his fingers back and forth across my thighs. “I’ve heard you,” he murmured between kisses. “Moaning my name while you touch your cunt.”

“I know you have. And I waited for you.” Trailing a finger down his heart, I whispered, “Coward.”

“Saints,” he breathed out, grasping my hips to bring me closer, his hard erection pressed against my sex.

The tip of his nose skimmed across my pulse, and then his warm breath hit my skin, sending scorching shivers down the length of my spine.

My eyes screwed shut when his hand cupped the back of my head, holding me there as his fangs slowly sank into my skin. He groaned against my neck, and my insides trembled, blood rushing to my head until my mind was violently spinning.

It was all a haze, a drowsy moment in time, but when it cleared up, my legs were wrapped around his hips, and I was slowly grinding against his hard erection.

My core was slick and achy, my breasts sore, and every single nerve in my body was alert and alive. Sounds were deeper, scents were intensified, and my skin was aware of every thread and fibre pressed against it.

My lips parted with a breathless moan as a swift ache travelled down my stomach and settled between my legs, pounding and heavy. The white shirt drank all the damp off my skin, sticking to each dent and curve and edge on my body. And a cold, clammy shiver travelled down my neck when the wet fabric rubbed against my nipples.

A moan echoed about the room when his teeth withdrew from my vein. I slowly rocked my hips against his, desperate for any little bit of friction.

Logan’s inhales sounded laboured and pained. His warm breath fanned down my neck until I was shivering against him. “Did I hurt you?” he panted, licking the blood trailing down my clavicle and then closing his mouth over the bite, peppering kisses over it. “Tell me I didn't hurt you.”

I shook my head, leaning close to pull his lower lip between my teeth before kissing him, sucking the taste of my blood off his tongue, licking the back of his fangs still dripping with venom. “Did you have enough?”

The ring of gold in his eyes had vanished entirely as he watched me. His fingers grasped the collar of my borrowed shirt and pulled until the buttons snapped. “Feet up on the desk. Spread your legs.”

He only watched me for a moment as I shrugged the shirt off my shoulders and sat back on his desk with my legs wide open. “Fuck.”

“Your turn. Take everything off,” I said hurriedly, stumbling over each word.

His mouth tipped up in a small smirk as he reached for the edge of his shirt and pulled it off. He was made of thick and hard muscle, covered in scars and so much violence. Leaning forward, he captured my lips in a harsh, coppery kiss, slowly undoing his belt and slinging it around my waist, sliding me even closer to him as he devoured me entirely, our tongues and teeth crashing, our skin and bones sticking together, my hands exploring every inch of his naked skin. “I thought I couldn't stop myself,” he breathed, shaking as he brushed the bite marks on my neck. “You taste like sin and salvation at the same time. Am I damned or am I atoned? Saints, I want to be both. Burn in Hell and breathe in Heaven.”

The way he looked at me burned like the first spring sun after a long, cold winter. Desire and want were choking me the same. I wanted to be in his bones, drown in his blood, impale myself in his ribs, and rot there slowly.