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Kylian returns a moment later with a wet cloth, and he begins to unroll bandages himself, blood seeping freely as he sits on the edge of the chaise. When I move closer, he stiffens, but he won’t look at me.

“If you’re going to pick another fight,” he mutters. “I would advise against it.”

I ignore him and take a cloth from the pile of bandages, wiping down his back carefully. My hands tremble over the wounds that will take days to close, wounds I now understand exist because of me. He tenses beneath my touch but does not pull away. He remains rigid and silent like he deserves this pain.

When I am done, he holds up a bandage, but I push it away.

He looks up sharply.

Before he can speak, I grip his shoulders and climb onto him, straddling his waist.

Shock freezes him, and I sweep my wet hair aside, baring my neck.

The growl that leaves him is low and involuntary, his fangs slipping free as he fights himself. His restraint frays like a thread stretched taut across the edge of a blade. And then it snaps.

His hands seize me, rough and desperate, his mouth closing against my throat.

The pain is sharp at first, enough to draw a gasp, but I stay still, fingers threading through his hair. Trying to remind him he doesn’t want to kill me, and gradually the frenzy ebbs, his grip loosening as his control returns.

He lifts his head briefly, breath ragged, then bites again higher, steadier this time. With his teeth still in my neck, he stands, carrying me toward the bed. My back meets the soft fabric, and the world narrows to warmth.

The pain of his bite morphs into euphoria.

Heat floods my limbs and coils low in my belly.

When he pulls away, his blood-stained lips crash against my own hungrily and steal my breath. His tongue tangles with mine. Blood and skin seems to ignite as he peels the front of my towel open. His lips travel down my neck, across my collarbone to my breast. His fangs graze the hardened peak of my nipple while his hand fondles the other.

He moves lower, his tongue dragging down my ribs as he kisses and nips a path down my body, eliciting sounds from my lips that should be illegal.

When his arm hooks beneath my knee, I sit up, watching him. His gaze lifts as he settles between my thighs. His mouth skims the inside of my thigh before his fangs sink into me again, so close to where I crave him most.

My head falls back with a hiss that turns to a moan, that tingling warmth shooting straight to my core. I’m not given a chance for the feeling to dim when he pulls his teeth from my thigh, and his mouth covers me. His tongue dives between my folds, licking a straight line to my clit.

The sound that tears out of me is embarrassing, but I can’t stop it, not when his mouth is on me. His tongue presses flat and slow over a spot that has never felt so sensitive before. Instinct drives my hand to his hair, and my fingers weave into his wet waves, fisting and yanking. But it only earns an inhuman growl, the vibration rippling straight through my core.

Kylian’s hands grip my thighs tight, holding me open. Ignoring the way my legs try to snap closed around his head. It’s intense, the sting where he bit me, the absurd pleasure rolling through me. I can’t stop the noises I make, not when his tongue fucks me the way his fingers did. My hips buck up instinctively, and he digs his fingers deeper.

His mouth is relentless, drinking in every sound that rips free. I clamp my hand over my lips, desperate to smother my voice, but he catches my wrist one-handed and yanks it away. Holding it against my stomach.

“Let me hear you,” he says, voice hungry and desperate. “I want to hear you scream for me.”

I want to tell him he’s delusional, that I would never, but then he thrusts his tongue inside me, and my brain short-circuits. Every ounce of embarrassment is gone. “Kylian!” I gasp, but it comes out more like a plea.

He keeps going. He doesn’t even pause. If anything, the more I struggle, the rougher he gets. It’s like he’s starving, and I’m the only thing in the world that will satisfy him.

White-hot pressure explodes inside me, and I arch off the bed, everything in my body tensing as I come. It’s embarrassing how he rips the control out of me. Kylian doesn’t even slow, just keeps going, working me through every wave until my legs are shaking, and I can barely breathe.

When the world starts bleeding back in, Kylian pulls away slowly, like he wants to savor every single second. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still kneeling between my thighs, and I can feel his eyes raking over me, hot and possessive.

I should feel embarrassed, but mostly I just feel . . . exposed and stupidly alive.

He leans over me, lips crashing against mine. I taste blood, but I don’t care. His weight presses me down, and I arch into him, craving more, not even sure who I am or what has come over me anymore. His hard length grinds against me, making me realize he is still half-dressed. I reach for his waistband, fumbling because my hands are still shaking, but I manage to shove the fabric down, freeing him. He makes a noise I’ve never heard before, dark and torn as his lips pull away from mine. His weight lifts slightly as he peers down at my hand gripping him.

“Little mortal, you are truly testing my control,” he groans thrusting into my hand. I bite my lip, nervous at the length and thickness of him. For years the idea of losing my virginity has haunted me. I was terrified it would be taken from me against my will. Then for years, I longed for Arlo’s touch but couldn’t let myself lose control.

At the thought of Arlo, I still.

Something about this feels like the edge of a cliff, like if I move even an inch, I’ll fall, and there won’t be any coming back. My head’s a mess. My body’s a mess, and Kylian is looking at me like he wants to ruin me.