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Somehow, being fed from is even better than drinking from Ellister, and I know he was right to warn me.
Once won’t be enough.
It’ll never be enough.
ELLISTER
Ishouldn’t be surprised by how much Hannah enjoys the blood exchange, but her reaction is extreme.
Her pupils grow until they’re unnaturally large as I feed from her wrist. Her nipples are so stiff, I can see them through the layers of her bra and dress. Her lips are parted, quick breaths rushing past the plump flesh that’s brightly colored from my blood.
She has no idea how fuckable she looks right now—her chest heaving up and down, a red smear down her chin, her thighs squirming because her pussy needs some friction.
Yes, some people get turned on when they feed, but I’ve personally never become aroused from it… until now.
I meant it when I told Hannah the blood can make someone aggressive, and for the first time, I understand the viciousness displayed by some men in the Lost Land.
If anyone else ever tried to do this with Hannah, I’d go insane with jealousy. I’d kill without hesitation.
Hannah’s mine. Her blood is mine. Her body is mine.
I suspect the reason this practice was outlawed in Valora has less to do with it being revolting and more to do with it being a recipe for ruthlessness. It’s alluring and powerful. It takes the bond between fated mates—two people who are attached by destiny itself—and turns it into something deeper.
Something deadly to outsiders.
More of Hannah’s sweetness oozes out on my tongue, and I know we’re going to do this again and again, even if it isn’t necessary for our health.
We’re going to fuck and feed. Feed and fuck.
Hannah lets out a series of gasps, and I realize I’ve been so engrossed in the taste of her, I closed my eyes. I haven’t been paying attention to her body’s threshold.
Thinking I might’ve taken too much from her, I release the suction on her wrist, plug the wounds with a firm press of my tongue, and immediately search her for signs of dangerous blood loss.
But her cheeks are a healthy pink, and she’s not woozy.
No, she’s touching herself.
My cock hardens even more in my pants when I see her left hand shoved under her skirt, her fingers moving on her pussy. Her head is tilted back, her eyes shut, mouth open.
She’s in her own little world right now, and I don’t think she’s even realized I stopped drinking or that I’m watching her.
I try to lift my arm to join in, but I can’t. My shoulder twitches—a good sign. Hannah’s blood is nourishing my body. I can feel it working, delivering warmth to all my extremities. I’m able to curl my fingers. A definite improvement, but I’m not better yet.
“You just wait until I can move again.” There’s an edge of warning to my voice, and she startles at my statement, her light brown eyes gazing at me through heavy lids.
A blush rises to her cheeks because she got caught, but she doesn’t stop touching herself.
Raising her eyebrows, she taunts, “What is the big bad fae going to do to me?” She looks down at where I’m engorged and throbbing inside my pants, then snorts humorously. “Well, you’re not paralyzed everywhere.”
“All my senses are intact. I just can’t move,” I defend. “And I suppose that appendage has a mind of its own anyway.”
Stopping the titillation of her clit, she cups my erection and gives it a squeeze. “So you can feel that?”
“Absolutely,” I groan, then ask, “What are you doing?” when she undoes the top button on my pants.
“Having fun,” she responds coyly, seeming much better now that she’s had my blood.
Perhaps she was right to push for it after all.
