Page 27

Chapter 10

QUILL

Rory is still as a rabbit beneath me.

The predatory nature within me revels in it.

I raise myself onto my palms to find her delicate eyes wide with… intrigue?

My tongue runs over my fangs. I wasn’t able to stop them from snapping free; the scent of her blood is too overpowering. Thirst burns in the back of my throat, demanding just a taste.

I refuse to quench it.

I will not bite her.

With trembling fingers, she touches one sharp and lethal point, then the other. I remain still as she props herself up on her forearms and…

Kisses me.

Softly, cautiously, our mouths open, and she traces her tongue over those two points. My cock twitches inside her, nearly ready to burst from the contact. This exploratory kiss shifts into one of careful passion as she deepens it, as she proves over and over again that she trusts me.

Why does she trust me? Does she know what we are?

Mates.

Breaking the kiss with a contented sigh, she flops backward onto the bed, breasts bouncing. I palm one, so silken and supple in my grip. I pinch her nipple, and she squeaks. Lifting her hips, she moves against my cock, fucking herself with my length.

“You’re rather needy.” I tease her bottom lip with my teeth, careful of my fangs.

She whimpers.

I’m going to fuck her senseless.

I take over, pounding into her. She’s fucking perfect beneath me. So silken and warm and—fuck.

“You can bite me,” she whispers, breathy and desperate, low noises traveling up her throat. She’s on the cusp, and so am I. “Just not where someone can see.”

“I’m not going to bite you.” I keep my eyes on hers, forcing all thoughts of her blood out of my mind. It’s near impossible. Not with the flush of her cheeks, the swell of her heat. Her scent. Not possible at all. My fangs long to pierce her skin, to taste her blood, but I will not. I am more than my thirst. “Not if it’d be the first and last time I tasted you.”

“But—”

“I want you to beg for it.” I grunt as I rock into her, withdrawing to the very tip and then thrusting into her with reckless abandon. “I want you to beg for me.”

She can’t. Not here. But somewhere in the back of my mind, an idea sparks.

I smother her moan with one of my own as my mouth claims hers. She rakes her nails down my back, digs her heels into my hips. Sweat clings to her skin. I lick it off, desperate to taste her in whatever way I can.

“Quill,” she gasps, clenching around my cock.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

It sends me over the edge, and she follows with me. We both erupt like witchfire bursting in the night sky.

Rory’s breathing slows as sweat dries to her skin. I tuck her into the crook of my arm, fingertips dragging along her side, over the ridges of her ribs, to rest on her hip.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I murmur while studying the simple stucco ceiling above us.

“Truthfully?”