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His skin was fire under my icy touch. I traced the lines of his face, the hard cut of his jaw, the corded column of his throat. Was I going to die without ever knowing what it was like to kiss him?
All of our differences felt trivial in the face of death. I wanted him, and I wasn’t going to deny how much.
The tips of my fingers lingered over his pulse before I jerked my hand away.
“Can you shift? Can you feel your wolf?” Dason begged, both of us realizing how perilous the situation was. If I fed on Dason, I’d probably kill him. Without magick, he couldn’t heal himself. But if I didn’t… I’d surely die.
Digging deep inside of me, I reached for the place my wolf’s spirit lived, but I felt nothing but the slightest stirring. A quiver when I needed an earthquake.
“I think she’s still there, but I can’t reach her.”
Shaking turned into a rattle, my teeth chattering as my body turned icier than it already was.
Dason grabbed my hand, desperately cupping it in his. “Try your magick, Lorn.”
“C-c-can’t” Trembling made my voice shake.
“Yes you can, little mate. It’s our last hope. Try. For me,” he pressed urgently.
Concentration was difficult, but I forced myself to do as Dason asked. Deep down, my magick was still there. It was just a matter of latching on to it and bringing it to the surface.
Faint traces teased me, dancing away before I could grip them, but eventually I’d pulled enough tendrils together. Magick flared to life in my hand, a nondescript blob of purple with streaks of black.
“Good girl,” Dason purred, but the magick flickered, sputtering like a dying fire. “More, Lorn.”
He steadied my hand as I gathered the dredges of my magick, letting it build until it roared in the center of my palm.
“Keep holding on to your magick,” Dason instructed, and he shifted me on his lap until my legs were straddling his waist. A large hand cupped the back of my head and he drew me to his neck.
I moaned, my nose brushing against his pulse point. The sound of my neediness changed into a cry of pain as my fangs burst from my gums, unhindered any longer. The tips scraped along Dason’s throat, and he shuddered below me.
I’d never felt more powerful in my entire life than having him at my mercy. Submitting to me as he told me to drink.
“Take what you need,” he demanded. “And I’ll do the same.” A gray glow illuminated the dim room, and I knew his eyes were alight with magick—his power ready to feed on my own to restore himself while I fed on his blood.
“Don’t let me hurt you,” I rasped, but it was my last protest. I couldn’t resist the call of his life force roaring through his veins.
“I won’t let you go too far,” he promised, ending on a grunt as I licked a line up the side of his neck, tasting the salty musk of his skin.
My name was an airy gasp on his lips as my teeth sank into his neck and blood washed over my tongue.
Twelve
Lorn
“Lorn.” My name was a long drawl on Dason’s tongue as I latched my lips firmly around his skin and sucked.
Disgust should be swirling through me. Jesus, I was drinkingblood. Instead, the only word on my mind wasmore.
Dason’s blood was sweet and savory all at the same time—dark chocolate, salt, and spice. The blend was alluring to my nose and addicting to my tongue.
His blood slicked down my throat as I swallowed. I waited for that sickening churn my belly had done earlier when I’d attempted the steak, marginally worried my mixed bloodline would make it so I couldn’t feed as a mortal or a vampire.
Much to my surprise, my stomach settled as the first drops hit, and then I lost all sense.
My mouth was a pulling tug against Dason’s flesh, and he groaned, his hands finding my hips as he gripped me and held me above him.
Stormy gray magick collided with mine, drawing it tendril by tendril into his body. The give and take between us a delicate dance.
