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He holds it together, though.Sort of.A wave of lust is thick between us, almost visible in its intensity.
I’m still breathing rapidly, my legs weak, and I fall against the brick wall.
He moves toward me, his heart so loud and furious.His blood.Oh, God, his blood…
I don’t expect kindness or gentleness.
So when he cups my cheek, I widen my eyes.
“Are you okay?”He gazes at my neck.“You need a bandage.”
“I’m clotting already.It’s fine.”
Indeed, the neck scrape is the least of my concerns.
All I can see is that thumping artery in his neck.
All I can hear is his blood racing through his body.
All I can smell is his musky and outdoorsy wolf scent.
All I can feel are his warm fingers against my flesh.
And inside…the hunger.The hunger I fear I’ll never be able to sate if I don’t take this chance.
My gums tingle and I embrace the sharp pain as my teeth grow downward.Fangs.My fangs.Need to feed.
The blood lust strengthens me, gives my legs back their muscles, my spine back its straightness.
Now. Now. Now.
I melt into Victor Rogan, grab two fistfuls of his hair, pull him toward me…
And I sink my teeth into his neck.
7
Darkest of reds.I don’t see, but I know.Black-red.Ambrosia.A gourmet succulent feast.Spicy like the hottest chili pepper and smooth like the finest dark chocolate.The consistency of honey from the sweetest smelling bloom.
Rich.Oh, so rich.
This blood.This wolf blood.An elixir I can never get enough of.
I drink.
And I drink.
The answer to my hunger—the hunger that has plagued me since I first saw Victor Rogan in a photograph.
The hunger I fear will never be sated by anything but his blood.
I drink.
And I drink.
Surely he’ll stop me.
Surely he’ll…
