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She jumped when he threw open the door. A breath later, he was around the front, and hers was open too. He released her seatbelt, and the fire inside her roared. He caught her hands when she reached for him.
“Are you certain”—his voice was rough, strained—“that you want this and you wanted it before tonight?”
Her skin prickled with desire, with the feeling of the cool forest air and the brilliant moon above. “Yes,” she promised, licked her lips, then gave him the one thing he’d been asking for since the first time he’d touched her. “Please, Mikel.”
Violet felt the moment his restraint snapped, saw it, tasted it in the air and the heat of his mouth on hers. He tugged her out of the cab, and she went easily, wrapping around him, thighs hooked over his hips so her heart beat against his, and her cunt was spread against his cock. He nipped the skin under her jaw, and she keened her need to have him inside her into the night.
It was a rough ride into the woods. She kissed his neck, his shoulder, and scraped her teeth against his skin, desperate now. Her blood swore she’d come apart if he couldn’t be rid of his clothes soon and in her.
Mikel staggered through the pines and into a clearing barely twenty feet from the road. Then, she was back against a tree, and he was tugging at his shirt, then hers, and still it wasn’t enough. She whined her frustration with the button on her shorts. Fabric tore. Violet hissed out a breath at the bite of rough bark on her ass. He grunted his approval as he shoved in, her cunt slick enough to take him with ease.
It was desperate frenzied fucking, hot and wet and loud in the quiet. Violet dragged her nails rough down his back. He drilled her mercilessly into the tree, the drums beating in the distance, and the moon humming overhead. She was already close when he pulled his hips on a thrust and slipped out, eyes blazing into hers, hips jumping uselessly against her while her cunt begged for him again.
Violet knew what he’d say, felt his call in her blood. The answer spilled up and out of her, easy, sacred.
“Mate me, Mikel,” she breathed.
The world tipped. There was no time to fear it. Her knees hit the cold dirt of the forest floor followed by her hands. His knee knocked hers apart, then he was back in her, one hand on her clit and the other on her jaw, tilting her head to the side.
“Violet.” The growl reverberated in her bones, her blood, her cunt, and she came at the love in it, the possession and fate and rightness when his teeth sunk into the base of her neck and his hips rutted and stuttered while he unspooled inside her. Eyes closed, all she saw was silver, all she felt was pleasure and pain andhim, hers now, forever.
She was trembling when he pulled her up to sit on his thighs, cock still buried deep inside of her. A shuddering breath left her when his bite released. He held her head still and huffed out a breath; then, he was pressing something hot and wet over the wound. The rivulet of blood, making a warm track on its way to her collarbone, made her head spin.
“It’s done, baby.” The world flipped again, and she was on her back on the forest floor, looking up at the moon and Mikel, golden-eyed and intense, was showing her a bleeding bite mark on his wrist. “My blood, your blood. I’m yours, Violet Page.”
Where she’d expected him to say she was his, he offered her the opposite. That struck Violet, settled in her bones. She could only pull him down, cling to him, breathe in his scent, the charge in the air, and the profoundness of the moment. She shifted her hips under him, and he understood. His cock slid wetly back home, and Mikel made love to her, long and sweet and slow, for what felt like hours. Finally, both spent, he carried her out of the woods and drove them home.
Chapter Eight
ROUGH FINGERTIPS STROKEDher hip, and his voice rumbled in his chest against her back. “How you feelin’?”
Violet opened her eyes, blinked, and closed them again. His stubble scratched her cheek when he leaned over her.
“Talk to me?”
The trepidation in his voice nudged her properly awake. She rolled from where she’d been on her side with him spooned up behind her and onto her back.
“Sore,” she hissed when she turned her head to look at him, and the bandage on her shoulder puckered. Her skin pulled around the bite. “But good.”
The frown lines beside his eyes melted away. “No regrets?” he clarified.
Violet stroked the jut of his cheekbone. “No regrets.”
Mikel leaned down and caught her in a kiss. She returned it for a moment, then pushed him off to go brush her teeth. She smelled the toothpaste already on his breath.
“Your eyes,” he reminded her as she reached the bathroom door before she could look in a mirror. “You look beautiful,” he reassured her.
Violet thought she saw the faintest tinge of gold in his when he said it, but she was too far away to be sure.
“Won’t last forever, if you don’t like it,” he offered, and she ignored the trepidation in her gut.
Violet was careful not to look before she used the bathroom and brushed her hair. When she brushed her teeth with her head bent over the sink at an odd angle, she realized shemightbe avoiding it. She rinsed, spat, and stood up.
“Holy shit.” No matter how she tipped her head or turned, the gold ring in her irises stayed, bright and blazing. It made her brown eye look darker but richer, like embers, and her green eye shone with hazel now. She studied them until she could finally tear her gaze away to inspect the huge Band-Aid she didn’t remember him putting on her last night.
“Well?” he called from the bedroom.
Violet peeled the bandage back slowly. He’d cleaned up the worst of the mess. Sense memory struck, and she could feel that rivulet of blood making its way down to her collarbone, the cold, damp soil under her knees, and the blooming heat in her belly when he finished with his teeth in her.
