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Lio ran through each stage of the Gifting in his mind, reciting them in a logical order. One step at a time. Take one challenge at a time, and give it everything you have.
First, he had to rouse her enough to swallow his blood. Leaning against the headboard, he pulled Cassia onto his lap, resting her face against his shoulder. He reached for her mind. She felt more distant than she had just moments ago.
“Stay with me, Cassia!” He sent his magic deep into the mind ward and jolted her consciousness.
Still she lay limp in his arms.
“No,” he said, “it is not too late.”
Lio slashed his wrist with his fangs and pressed his bleeding veins to Cassia’s mouth. With his free hand, he massaged her throat. “Drink, my Grace. This is what you’ve always wanted. I can finally give it to you. Drink for me.”
He felt her swallow under his touch. Oh Goddess, thank you.
Cassia’s Gifting had begun.
She closed her hands over his wrist. Holding him to her, she dug her dull mortal canines into the wounds he had made.
“That’s the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life, Cassia.”
She mewed in her throat and sucked. He looked into her beautiful hazel eyes as she drank from him for the first time.
The world seemed to stop. His entire being focused on the sensation of his blood flowing out of his wrist and into her mouth. He felt the pull on his veins, an exquisite ache. The texture of her tongue on his skin. The pleasure-pain of her blunt teeth fighting his healing power to keep his flesh open for her.
“Oh my Goddess,” he breathed.
Cassia curled closer, her nostrils flaring, and moaned.
“Do I taste so good, my Grace?”
She sucked harder and rubbed her hip against his groin. With his free hand, he reached around to hold her still. “Not yet, my rose. The time for that is later, and it will be…” His breath hitched in his throat. “…everything you dreamed. I promise.”
But she must survive this first.
He watched her Partaking, giving herself over to the innocent instinct to take her Grace’s blood. He wished this pure moment could last forever. But his blood would hurt her before it healed her.
Her visions were about to begin.
DIVINING
Everything ceased to matter except his blood.
She must get the next swallow into her. And the next.
He tasted like home. Deep, cold snows and warm, tender laughter. Like happiness. Ink, moonflowers, starry skies. Like lust and love and rage so powerful he could tear open the substance of creation to protect her.
She tasted their whole lives in his blood, every moment that had healed her and every century that lay ahead.
She bit down harder, clinging to the lives they could still have.
“Yes,” she heard him say, “fight with me.”
He held her hip, but she shifted in his grip, unable to lie still. Every swallow sent hot, liquid desire pooling between her legs. She had never imagined. Nothing else would ever taste this good. She forgot the flavor of food and wine. She curled her toes, her krana tensing on the verge of release from his flavor alone.
He looked down at her, his gaze riveted on her face. “Oh, Cassia. That is…incredibly flattering. Thank you.”
She dragged in another swallow, and the taste of him sent a decadent climax rolling through her.
“You’re always beautiful when you climax,” he said, “but the sight of you with my blood running down your chin…”
