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One by one, he pulls the pair of caps covering his fangs, revealing two sharp points.
He’s like a vampire who can walk in the sun, and I’m fascinated.
“You were born this way?”
“No.” He slips the enamel-colored pieces into his pocket. “They were filed down. In the Lost Land, food and water don’t occur naturally. If we can’t import the goods from somewhere, we resort to drinking blood from each other to sustain our strength.”
“And it’s a requirement of the ritual to bring me back.” It’s a fact I’ve retained from our connection, so I don’t need to ask, but he confirms it anyway.
“It is.”
“Do it.” I gather my hair, sweeping it over my shoulder to bare my neck. “I’m ready.”
Appearing hungry, he licks his lips like the urge to drink from me is strong.
When his lips get close to my pulse point, he places a soft kiss there first, then he whispers the reassurance, “It won’t hurt.”
Without delay, he presses his teeth against my skin. There’s just a bit of resistance before the puncture happens. Just like Ellister promised, I feel no pain. If anything, it feels… good. Like getting a hickey.
Clinging to him, I silently demand for more, and Ellister’s fingers dig into my back as he sucks with increased intensity.
Warm rivulets of my blood run down my collarbone and chest, soaking into the hospital gown.
Pleasure vibes zip through me and float up to my head, making me feel drunk.
I shouldn’t be enjoying this. The rational, sane part of me acknowledges that, but I can’t help it.
As Ellister continues the strong, rhythmic pulls, we’re slightly rocking together, and I’m naked under the gown, so my center keeps rubbing on his denim-covered crotch.
I realize this would be an inappropriate time for a moan, but I do it anyway as I spear my hands through Ellister’s hair.
“You like it,” he says against my neck, pausing his pursuit to drink me in for just a second.
He sounds surprised.
He’s not the only one confused by my reaction. After making an unintelligible noise that’s neither a yes or a no, I ask, “Is that weird?”
Letting out a low sound of satisfaction, he stops to lick my wounds. “It’s unique, yes. At this stage of the bargain, the target is usually in a state of neutral acceptance. Being drained isn’t something to be enjoyed. Then again, I’ve never liked someone’s blood as much as I do yours.”
“Do I taste good to you?”
“Incredible. Normally, the blood of a person so close to expiring is sour. But you’re sweet. Better than anything else I’ve ever had on my tongue.” He drinks a few more times, then stops. “I’ve taken enough.”
“I can’t feel my body.” The words echo in my ears a bit, like I’m far away from myself. “I don’t feel anything at all. I’m numb. I-I can’t move.”
“Don’t be afraid. You don’t have enough blood in your body to fuel it, so that’s to be expected.”
Ellister manipulates my legs, shifting me so I’m sideways, draped over his lap while I’m cradled in his arms. His eyes are still brimming with wetness when he gazes down at me. My blood coats his lips and drips down his chin.
I want to raise my hand to wipe it away, but I can’t, and my tongue is too heavy to speak.
Ellister seems to understand this, and he fills the time by spilling his own desires as he pets what’s left of my hair. “I wish I were just a man. A human man with mundane days and desires. I could date you, propose in a romantic fashion, and marry you under your apple tree like you always dreamed of. We’d live out our lives on your farm—our paradise—and we’d die after growing old together.”
What a beautiful story.
I want to tell him how much I want that, too, but I’m so tired.
My eyes flutter shut.
