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The compulsion to touch her returned. Her fur was a draw like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
Her waist narrowed as full hips blossomed, and for a moment all he wanted to do was plant his hands on her ass and pull her against him. A strange sensation began to swirl through him, of a lust and need so profound that once more his lungs wouldn’t work properly.
She then bared her teeth in the way of a shifter who was also in need.
A scent came to him of an edgy cinnamon spice, and the more he smelled it, the more he wanted this woman, needed her.
He dipped his face so that he could sniff her neck. Sweet Goddess, her blood smelled of the same spice. He slid an arm around her waist and began licking her throat.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he needed to leave Margetta’s camp, but he was completely captivated by the scent of the woman’s blood.
Yes, Zane, please, take what you need. Take your fill. It will heal you. And my cloak will keep us safe while you drink.
Before he knew what he was doing, he bit her with his fangs and began to suck down her blood.
Fire.
Sex.
Hope.
Need.
More fire.
And he was hard as a rock and only a few seconds had passed.
He wanted this woman under him.
Take us out of here while you drink, she pathed to his mind. I’ll guide you.
He slid an arm around her bottom and pinned her against him. With one hand, she cupped the back of his neck to keep his mouth fixed to her throat. Needing to avoid the wounds on his back, she used her free hand to take hold of his arm, gripping him tight.
He began to levitate straight up while he suckled at her vein.
Keep going, Mastyr. You’re doing fine. Oh, God, I love that you’re drinking from me. I knew I wanted this, but I didn’t think it would feel so incredible.
Your blood is firing me up, Olivia. By all the Elf Lords, I’ve never tasted anything like this. Holy fucking shit.
CHAPTER TWO
Olivia smiled blissfully as Mastyr Zane suckled at her throat and drank her down. What she didn’t understand was her desperate compulsion to feed him like this. He’d used a donor less than two hours ago at the Elf Lords Hideaway. Yet the moment he’d drawn close, all the desire she’d felt for him over the past nine months rained down on her like a thunder storm.
Despite her raging desire, she forced herself to focus on guiding him out of the camp. He sucked hard at her neck as he levitated. His free hand was pressed up against her bottom, and she could feel his arousal, which in turn made her weak with answering need.
She held him tight, though careful not to hurt his healing wounds.
The camp was now about seventy-five yards below them so she had a solid bird’s eye view. Keep going, she sent telepathically.
Which part? Oh, God, his voice sounded incredibly deep even within her mind. He continued, The levitation or sucking your throat?
Both. Damn, that feels good Mastyr. Can you get us somewhere private for a few minutes? I’ll let you do other things, if you want.
Hell, yeah. If you can keep us cloaked, I’ll take us down to the beach about thirty miles south. I know a spot.
Good. But maybe you should stop and take a look at the spell. We’ve breached the top and I want to know if you can see it.
I don’t want to let go of your vein.
