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The fire takes to the pile at that moment, lighting our hidden oasis with a warm amber glow. His concerned stare illuminates, and suddenly, I don’t even care about the pain searing over my burnt flesh.
He’s beautiful.
For years, my family and I perfected the process of designing life. We had a simple formula; symmetry with slight imperfections. Fate took it from there, leaving the designing up to programmed DNA and human partners.
Somehow, the world Ren belongs to has mastered our design. At first glance, he appears perfect, with nothing to be lacking or giving. But under this glow, and at this distance, I can see the truth hidden beneath the surface.
A tiny scar below his right eye, nearly invisible. Two miniscule white birthmarks above his left ear. One fang slightly larger than the other. Irises painted by the gods.
I reach forward, forgetting about the wetness on my finger as soon as it leaves my mouth. The tip of my nail scrapes over his upper lip, tracing the curves downward.
His nostrils flare, breathing me in. “Thea.” His voice is a whispered groan.
Sensations I haven’t felt before flare between my thighs. I imagine what it would feel like if he touched me there. The imagery flashes in my mind's eye, lighting my insides brighter than they’ve ever been before. I’ve turned nuclear, but I don’t want to melt down just yet.
Heat, lust; it’s all another experience to add to my growing collection.
I am human. It is what humans do.
“Do you like me, Ren?” My tone is as strained as his own.
His nostrils flare again as he leans forward, so close our noses feather. “Very much.”
“Do you like me enough to touch me?” My free hand grasps his, threading our fingers together.
This time, his groan sounds more like a growl. “Do you want me to touch you, Thea?”
I press my thighs together again, nodding my head. “I’m feeling things.Humanthings. You are a male, and one I find very appealing.” I cock my head, trying to remember what the first humans did when they were struck with this overwhelming need.
“Touch me, but no more.” I finish, my chin high.
His eyes are alight with the same feverish heat I feel. Despite his obvious need for me, he stills, his throat tightening. “What if I hurt you? How can I be sure you won’t break, especially now that you’re injured?”
In a blur, he snatches my hand, examining my burnt finger. I tug away from him, my patience waning, but his hold is strong. “It’s a simple burn. Touch me or I’ll do it myself,” my eyes narrow “and I’ll make you watch.”
The words are bold. Since arriving here, I haven’t once felt the need to stroke my sex. Masturbation is another human need, but until now, it is one I had forgotten about.
However, with the growing wetness lathering my thighs, and the fire in Ren’s eyes tingling over my skin; I can’t wait to experience it for the first time.
I lean back on my elbows, ready to part my legs when he suddenly pounces. This time, there’s no mistaking the growl as it escapes his lips. Instead of being laced with menace like the howls of his maddened bloodline, Ren’s growl is an explosion of sexual tension.
He positions himself over my hips, parting my legs with one swift hand. I gasp, aware the moment my power is forfeited, allowing the reign of his.
“Tell me if this hurts, my light.” Ren whispers.
His gaze stays locked on mine as his hand trails down my thigh, parting my legs wider. I expect him to begin his ministrations immediately, but he is slow. Gentle. Painstakingly so.
The cold scrape of his fangs sweep across my knee, giving way for a soft brush of his lips. He kisses lower and lower, his hands rubbing the inside of my thighs. As if to torture me, he skirts one thumb over my folds, providing me with a taste of what is coming.
I lean forward, spreading myself wider so I can watch as he strokes me. His palms rest on either side of my sex, cupping me. One more slow and deliberate kiss to my inner thigh, and I’m ready to strangle him.
“Ren,” I pant, my eyes zeroing in on his cocky half smile. “Touch me before I retract my invitation.”
His gaze slits. “You wouldn’t dare.”
In response, I rub my hand over my stomach and to the glistening skin of my cunt. My fingers soak over the pool of wetness, and I part my labia, running my middle finger over my clit. I gasp, eyes flying wide.
“Oh, my.” The words are whimpered. Sex wasdesignedto be good, but the simple, gentle pressure caused more pleasure than I expected. I wantmore.
