Page 155 of Lured By Shadows

“Annh,” I moaned, my hands sliding up my own chest as I shifted beneath him, pressing my breasts together just to relieve some pressure. The ache between my legs pulsed insistently, soreness and need tangling together.

And he was looking at me like he could devour me all over again, making my skin flush hot even as everything else about him felt cool and steady against me, his eyes dark and hungry and somehow tender all at once.

One hand slipped around my waist, firm and controlled, pulling me closer until my spine arched without conscious thought, my body already yielding to his command. My chest pressed into his, breath catching in my throat as the full press of him settled where it was needed most. I could feel him again, thick and ready, and something low in my stomach twisted at the familiar pressure, the ache between my thighs deepening with every slow grind.

Then he leaned down, his mouth brushing my ear.

“Your blood is divine,” he murmured, his voice smooth and reverent, like the words weren’t just desire but devotion. “My precious lamb.”

“Bite me,” I whispered, my voice uneven, pulled tight between temptation and lust. There was a part of me, unholy and curious, that wanted to see how long he could undo me.

Because Culver had time. Endless, impossible time. He could stretch the moment across decades if he wanted. I couldn’t. I wasn’t immortal. I was just a girl. Just Ira. And yet, despite all of that, I felt satisfied in his arms.

His lips grazed my throat. He kissed me slowly, right over the place where my pulse jumped hardest. Right against the spot where he’d sunk his teeth into me before. The wound burned hotter, and I whimpered, desperate for him to ruin me again. My fingers chased across his skin, my nails biting down when I felt his fangs brush against the thin barrier. It was so close. My heart fluttered with anticipation.

Then my stomach betrayed me, cutting through the haze like it had been waiting for its chance. He stilled. Heat rushed to my face, embarrassment blooming fast and brutal. “I’m not that—” I started, already scrambling to explain it away.

“Let us feast first,” he interrupted.

Feast carried an extra layer that made my skin prickle.

I nodded, slow and a little dazed, figuring words would just come out wrong if I tried, my thoughts too tangled to sort through without making a fool of myself in front of him.

He eased me up, his hands steady as he swooped me into his arms. I yelped before it turned into a little giggle, holding onto him. As we left the bed, I couldn't help glancing back, really seeing the mess. The broken frame and bits of fancy wood thrown around like he'd been fighting to hold back but lost the battle anyway, wrecking everything close to us while keeping me safe through it all.

I settled against him with a soft, breathy hum, feeling oddly at ease even knowing I was in the middle of a vampire's place, surrounded by who knew how many more of them. It was weird, but the fear just wasn't there, not the way it should’ve been, replaced by the quiet trust I had declared last night.

When we got to the dining room, he lowered me onto the soft cushion. Warm gold light played off every edge, making the whole place glow just right, and the glass table in the middle looked spotless and sharp, exactly like the last time.

Out of nowhere, a picture popped into my head, unasked-for… me down on my knees under the table, Culver standing over me with that patient look he had, his fingers woven into my hair while I took him in my mouth, feeling every inch of his thick, veined length slide past my lips and deep into my throat.

The image broke apart the second he reached for my wrist, his grip light but steady, thumb tracing slow, sensuous circles over my skin, making me feel almost delicate beneath his touch. He drew me onto his lap, my legs folding naturally around his hips, the cushions giving way beneath us while his cool, firm body held me steady.

“I was a fool to keep the truth from you,” he murmured, brushing his nose against my cheek. “But the only fears I have ever had have been about your thoughts of me.”

With his arms secure around my waist and his forehead so near mine, it was hard to hold onto any one thought long enough to get it out; everything kept slipping through my fingers in the warmth of being so close.

“What did Rupert do to Soroush that made you act this way?” I asked quietly.

His eyes dimmed at the question. “It should be something you ask Soroush, as it is not my story to tell,” his focus unwavering.

A tremor moved through me that I didn’t bother fighting. “Since you’re a vampire…” I paused, taking in the sentence. It wasn’t something I ever thought I would say aloud, and seriously, “Are you a demon?”

He chuckled, the vibration traveling through my hips as he lifted my hand and pressed slow, lingering kisses to my knuckles. “Yes,” he said with a wicked smile. “Does that scare you?”

Yes. Not him, not Culver, but what it meant. What he was. What his family was. Creatures who didn’t age or bleed as I did.

“No,” I mumbled instead.

“Be truthful,” he whispered, his arms tightening around me, pulling me flush against the firmness of his chest. “I can hear your heartbeat pick up when you lie.”

“Ugh, fine, weirdo,” I muttered. “Yes, I’m a little scared. I mean, hell, I ran from you last night…”

“I enjoyed every second of it,” he murmured, kissing beneath my jaw, his lips trailing a slow, possessive path along the sensitive curve of my throat where it still tingled for him. “We should do it again soon.”

My body thrummed with heat, and I flushed under his watchful gaze. As I gulped, I wanted to reply, but the words caught in my throat. Culver was intoxicating on so many levels.

Instead, the smell of food wrapped around me in a warm, rich, buttery aroma drifting through the air and making my stomach clench, though part of me still felt disconnected from it, like my body was figuring out if it even made sense to feel hungry. The maids glided around the table without a sound, their movements smooth and precise, setting down plates with quiet efficiency that filled the space with a deliberate peace, the soft clink of glass on porcelain echoing just enough to keep the silence from becoming overbearing.