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My teeth pierce into him and I bury my fangs to the hilt in his flesh.
He flinches under me at the feral bite, but quickly relaxes once the initial pain fades. I give him a moment to adjust before pulling his ambrosial rose blood into me. The second his crimson hits my tongue I’m moaning at the flavor of him. He’s absolutely inebriating.
I’ve only had small sips here and there and never really got to enjoy all that ishim. Dreadiuses taste so fucking good—who would have thought? Heat spills into my core and there’s so much more than just his blood that I want. I wish his blood could fill that void that has opened within me from the lack of Arulius’s blood though.
I pull harder from him and he clenches his arms around my back as a tight breath slips past his lips. His pelvis juts up to dig further into mine and his cock is so fucking hard already. Gods be damned, I'm dripping wet for him too. He grinds against me as his hands push me down roughly for friction.
I release his neck as his dick strokes my clit beneath my thin leggings and cry out before biting into him once more. The pressure of the bite has him groaning loudly against my ear and I’m not sure how we’ll be able to keep our hands off each other at this point. I don’t want to.
I rock my hips against his attention-seeking boner and he places his hands on each cheek of my ass while he helps me along.
Fuck. Me.
Seriously.
I pull my teeth out and lick his neck clean. Sitting up, I place both of my palms on his broad, tattooed chest. Him sweaty and panting beneath me is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. His red eyes are narrowed on me with desire. My pussy is pulsing for him and I’m not going to deny it. It’s been weeks since I’ve had any pleasure.
His eyes widen as the effects of the feeding fade. His cheeks bloom with a red blush and his eyes clear from the arousal that was burning there. Rune’s hands slow their rocking and I let out a whine in protest.
“You don’t want me?”
He turns his head and stares at the blank wall. It’s not a no, but it isn’t a fucking yes either. Wow—can’t say I’ve ever been denied like that before.
Embarrassment fills my core and I’m ashamed that I thought it was anything but the feeding frenzy. Of course it wouldn’t be anything else. I’m an Eostrix and he’s a Dreadius. I’m the fucking prisoner here and he’s my guard. What the hell was I thinking? That he actually wanted me?
I press my hand to my forehead and sigh. “I’m sorry, Rune. I’m not feeling like myself… You can go now.”
I roll off him and lie on my back, staring at the ceiling as the sounds of the festival come to life outside. I shut my eyes and listen to the laughter and joy of so many unspecial spirits and gods. I wish I could join them and be a normal person doing normal things.
I want to be unimportant.
The bed shifts and I don’t bother looking at Rune as he stands. I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. I’d rather not make myself feel any more unwanted than I already do. Rejection sucks and I’m a poor sport.
He taps my leg, but I wave him off. “Get out, Rune. I’m tired.”
Another tap.
I run my hand through my hair and fist a handful. What the fuck doesn’t he understand?
I sit up and glare at him. “I said get the fuck out!”
He watches me closely with a dark scowl, his sweater flung over his shoulder and arms crossed over his sculpted chest. What the hell does he want? Another rush of laughter rings outside and music starts up. My heart aches at the thought of what the festival is like. I just want to sleep. It’s better than feeling any of the things that I’ve felt tonight.
Rune urges me to stand by tugging on my wrist but I rip it out of his hand. He glares back at me and for a second I wonder who will win this battle of wills.
I shake my head. “Please… just go.”
He huffs and I damn near laugh at his stubbornness tonight. What’s gotten into him?
He reaches down and plucks me up from the sheets, earning him a few kicks and scratches from me. He doesn’t even flinch as I struggle. Once by my dresser, he sets me down and opens the top drawer.
Oh gods.That’s my underwear drawer.
The second he sees the lace and undergarments his face turns red and he shuts it quickly. I kick up the corner of my lips at what he’s doing.
He opens the second one down and pulls out a fresh pair of leggings and tosses them over my head. I tug the fabric down in time to watch him open my closet and select a red dress, a flowy short one that was another hand-me-down from Naminé. It matches his eyes perfectly.
My heart throbs painfully, sending another unwanted warm pulse through its cold abandoned chambers. Why is he picking out clothes for me? He knows as well as I do that we aren’t allowed to step foot in the festival.
