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“So much. Be a good girl and get your wrist away from my mouth.”
“No.”
“Fuck,” he swears, but he’s not cussing at me. He’s upset with himself for wanting what I’m offering, and his self-control crumbles so fast. Within the next second, he rushes out, “I’ll only do it if you drink from me first.”
If he’s trying to deter me, that’s not the right tactic.
It’s a temptation.
I lick my lips as my thirst becomes unbearable. When I think about his warm blood flowing into my mouth, tangy and metallic, a surge of desire crashes into me.
I should be disgusted. The human in me should be running for the hills, but I stay right where I am.
“Shit.” Ellister immediately realizes his mistake when he sees how much I want it. “All right. I’m going to allow it this time, but only because you need it.”
Bobbing my head up and down, I quickly nod my compliance. “Just tell me what to do.”
“My dagger. It’s in my boot.”
Apprehensive, I pull the blade out and study the sharp, shiny edges with hesitancy. “You want me to cut you?”
“It’s the easiest way. Your teeth are too blunt to get a clean puncture.”
That makes total sense. Of course I’ll have to open his skin somehow. My brain is all foggy and sluggish from dehydration, and I just didn’t think of what that meant.
I don’t know if I can hurt him. The actual act of injuring him… I can’t stand it.
Reading my turmoil, Ellister offers another alternative. “You can use my teeth if that’s easier. You’ll have to lift my wrist up to my mouth and push against my fangs until my skin gives way under the pressure. That’s more natural, and they won’t cut too deep.”
“Okay. I’ll try.”
Natural or not, it’s still difficult. Not only is Ellister’s arm heavy as fuck when it’s all floppy, but there’s that whole part about me being a wuss when it comes to hurting a man I care so much about.
The first couple times I try to get his fangs to cut his skin, I fail.
“Harder,” he commands. “You can’t be gentle about it.”
I give it one more attempt, putting some muscle behind it.
It works.
Two tiny holes well with blood on the inside of his wrist. The dark red liquid overflows and drips down his arm toward his elbow.
There’s no going back after this.
If I do this, it’ll change me.
It’ll changeus.
And that’s what I want. I want our connection to be stronger. I want to be as close to Ellister as possible.
“You don’t have to do it,” Ellister says, assuming I paused because I’m grossed out.
Tentative, I put my mouth to one of the bleeding spots, almost like a kiss. Testing the taste.
It’s interesting. There’s a surprising richness in it. A sweetness.
Addictive, indeed.
