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“Your father and I have crossed paths a few times; we don’t exactly see eye to eye. Her blood ties to Rowan explain why she lives with the pack, but I also realize that it can’t be easy for her. She will never be fully accepted; she will always be viewed as an outsider in their world of beasts and blood. ‘I find your father rather difficult to deal with; he’s a bit of a mongrel, but I suppose that’s to be expected when you’re dealing with a man who can turn into a wolf at will.”
“You know nothing about him.”
“I know enough,” I reply smoothly. “And I know enough about you, too. You’re a werewolf, but not a full-blooded one. That makes you an outcast, doesn’t it? Always searching for a place to belong.” Lyra’s expression darkens, but I don’t back down. “You could belong to me. I can offer you things that your pack never could.”
“I don’t need anything from you.” Lyra stops walking and turns to me. Her eyes glint in the moonlight, a warning in their depths. I can sense her unease and mistrust. She is a werewolf, and I am a vampire. Our kind is never meant to cross paths, let alone coexist. But here we are, walking together through the darkened city streets. “Look, you helped me back at the bar, and even though it was unnecessary, I’ll thank you for that, but while this little meet and greet has been fun, I’m not interested in getting to know a vampire. What will it take for you to leave me the hell alone?”
“One night.” I step closer, invading her space, enjoying the way her body tenses up in response. “Spend tonight with me, and I promise to never bother you again. You have my word.”
“Why are you so persistent that I spend the night with you?”
“Because I crave you, I need to taste you.” The words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning.
Fury blazes across her features like a wildfire, the fierce intensity of her emotions palpable even in the darkness. Her body stiffens, her muscles coil like a tightly wound spring, as if preparing for a strike. Her hands ball into fists, nails digging deep into her palms, as she glares at me with eyes that smolder.
“You are not biting me, sunlight sissy. My blood is my own, and you will not take one drop of it. I’m not a snack, Thorne,” she growls, her eyes flashing gold.
Her words are a challenge born of the defiance that burns within her. She is stronger than I expected. However, I am a vampire, and I know how to play this game. I can beguile her, of course, play the puppeteer, and make her bend to my will, but I find myself unwilling to resort to my vampiric powers. I want her just as she is; I want to experience her in her purest form, without any manipulation or coercion. I fix my gaze on Lyra, searching for any trace of vulnerability or weakness. All I see is a fierce determination blazing within her eyes, a fire that can rival even the most powerful of supernovas.
I can practically taste the raw energy pulsing between us. It is as if the very fabric of reality is shifting, bending to accommodate the weight of our presence.
“As delicious as the thought of your blood is, that is not what I am referring to.” I move closer to her, pressing my lips against her neck, tasting the salt on her skin, and feeling the beat of her pulse beneath my tongue. I skim my lips up the column of her throat until they are pressed to her ear. “I want to taste your lips and your skin. I want to taste every part of you.” The air becomes thick with the scent of her desire, and I know I have her where I want her. “I’m going to fuck you for hours and show you what you do to me, but I swear I will not feed on you.” I smile, knowing full well that I can never resist the sweet, metallic taste of her blood, but I will restrain myself and indulge in the pleasures of her flesh, savoring every moment with her. The world is my playground, and I am the monster that rules it.
Lyra trembles beneath me, her breath coming in short gasps. She is a wild thing, all fire and fury, but in this moment, she is mine.
“One night, Thorne,” she relents. “When the sun comes up, I’m gone, and you never darken my doorstep again, and if I see even a hint of a fang, our night comes to a screaming end. You can have me, but you will not feed on me.”
It is all I need to hear—her consent. I have her in my arms, and in a blur of speed, we are in my bedroom. I tear away our clothing, stripping her of her multitude of weapons and casting them aside without a care.
In mere moments, Lyra is on my bed before me, her skin luminous against the crimson sheets, her golden hair a stark contrast against the fabric. She is not shy; she spreads her legs and cups her own breasts, beckoning me with a sultry smile.
Every inch of her is mine to explore, revel in, and devour.
With a lazy stroke, I tease myself, enjoying the sensation of my own hardness. Her eyes follow the motion of my hand, and she looks positively feral with lust. I release my cock and step up to the bed.
I run my fingertips up her smooth legs, delighting in the feel of her, then drop my lips to the tempting trail of her flesh, following the curve of her thigh with my tongue.
“Don’t stop,” she breathes.
“I wasn’t planning to stop; you tempt me beyond measure,” I murmur against her skin.
Her blood pulses beneath her skin like a drumbeat, the rhythm quickening as my lips trail higher. The thrum of her blood beckons me to taste, to feed. My fangs throb with longing as I savor the taste of her, the scent of her arousal filling my nostrils. Her skin is soft as silk, and I’m hard as stone, my need for her growing with every passing moment. It takes all my willpower not to bite into her thigh, to drink directly from her femoral artery while I plunge my fingers into her and fuck her with them.
“Please,” she moans. “Xavier... don’t tease.”
Gone is the fierce, headstrong creature that had challenged me earlier. She looks at me with those pleading eyes and begs so prettily, all traces of her former wildness seem to have melted away. She is like putty in my hands, pliable and eager.
It is the first time she calls me by my name. I want to take a moment and cherish the sound of it coming from her lips, but I’m famished for her. Putting my hands on the inside of her thighs, I spread her legs even wider and lower my mouth to her slit. My tongue traces the slick folds, teasing her as I revel in her euphoric flavor. I try to prolong the sweet agony of anticipation, but the need to taste her fully overpowers me. With a low, guttural groan, I cup her ass roughly, opening her up for me, and plunge in, devouring her with ferocity, exploring every inch of her warmth and wetness, completely consumed by my hunger for her. Her thighs tighten against the side of my head, keeping my face buried in her as she moans and writhes beneath me. I flick her clit with my tongue and suck on her wet flesh, letting the taste of her fill my senses like a potent elixir. My fingers follow suit, circling the tight entrance to her body before sliding in, feeling the heat of her slickness.
Lifting my head, I look at her, taking in the flush of arousal that spreads from her breasts to her cheeks. “I wondered what you would taste like, how you would feel, I’m not disappointed.”
“Don’t stop,” she cries—a raw, guttural sound that reverberates through the room.
Who am I to deny her? My mouth covers her slit once more, and I lick her with long, luscious strokes and lash her swollen clit with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth. When my teeth graze against the needy bundle of nerves, she begs for release, fisting the sheets in her hands. I ravage her with my mouth and fingers, each stroke pushing her closer to the brink of ecstasy. I’m merciless and relentless, and she loves every second of it. Her body convulses beneath me, her muscles tightening as her orgasm tears through her, and I drink in her pleasure like a man dying of thirst, taking in every drop of her essence.
I allow her a moment to catch her breath before I move up, pausing to suck a dusky pink nipple into my mouth. I move to her other breast, taking my time to lavish it with the same attention while my fingers tug, twist, and tease the first. Her back arches from the soft bed, and she cries out as I bite down on the hardened flesh. With a trail of open-mouthed kisses, I skim my lips over the graceful curve of her throat, feeling the pulse beat beneath my tongue, before covering her mouth with mine. I kiss her slowly and deeply while kneading her breasts with my hands. A low groan slides out of me, mingling with her soft moan, as our tongues dance in a sensual tango, exploring each other’s mouths with fervor and passion.
“What do you want, little wolf?” I whisper as I end the kiss with a soft caress, looking into her eyes, the fire raging inside them matching the intensity of the flames heating my cold, dead body.
