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“Things turned out well last time.” I reach up and push a lock of hair back. “You will not hurt me now, either.”
His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. The hold on his control is threadbare, with desire and the need to feed straining against it. Then Alaric lowers himself on top of me. His lips skim over my shoulder, and he inhales the scent of my skin, but he doesn’t bite me right away. Instead, he presses a kiss to my collarbone, then another at the hollow of my throat.
I close my eyes as he continues all the way up and along my jaw until he finally reaches my mouth. He starts out tentative and soft. When he nips on my bottom lip, desire wins out. I moan and his tongue meets mine, as he deepens the kiss.
Alaric settles his hips between my legs, the press of his arousal against my thigh. My hands travel over his back as his warm palm slides up over the exposed skin of my stomach to cup my breast. His fingers massage and tease my flesh. We move against each other, both wanting more. Craving.
He breaks away for breath. “You are poison and my undoing,” he says with a sigh against me. “But I will taste from your lips until I am immune, and then, little nightmare, I will consume you.”
That promise sends heat through my veins, pooling between my thighs. I arch into him, the desperate need to feel him is almost overwhelming. So, I show him, pulling him closer, hooking my heels around the backs of his legs. Shadows dance around us, rising from him like wisps toward me.
He needs no more urging than that. Alaric shifts, and then there’s the slight press of his fangs on my neck a moment before he bites down. Our connection sparks with his first drink, growing stronger with each swallow.
Alaric moans against me, the sound prying a whimper from me. He lifts his hips. I tug on his shirt, detesting the material that separates us. Wanting the press of his weight and the warmth of his skin against mine.
Soon, I find I don’t mind as much as I thought when he reaches my waistband and undoes the fastens, giving him access to my most intimate parts. His touch is a delicious torment, teasing lower and lower. I cry out as he drags a finger along the length of my core. I lift my hips, seeking him, but he refuses to let me rush.
“Please,” I plead. The word is breathless.
Alaric chuckles against my neck. Then his tongue slides over the puncture marks until they heal. “Yes, little nightmare.” He lifts himself up on one arm and watches how easily he can control me. “Beg me. Tell me what you want.”
I can barely think with the demanding way my body craves him muddling my thoughts. “You…” I groan as his finger grazes my aching flesh again and again. “I want to feel your skin against mine, please, Alaric.”
With agonizing slowness, he increases his pressure, entering me. We can both feel just how ready I am for all of him. Still, he takes his time with every touch and stroke. Then he adds another, his pace remaining languid.
I moan because this. Is. Torture.
Alaric lowers his head to my shoulder, and as his fangs pierce me again as the pace of his hand picks up. I buck against him.
“The trail leads in here!” a distant shout grates against the deliciously wicked sensation that has wrapped itself around us.
Alaric stills then removes his hand. I can’t stop the plaintive noise that escapes me. I grip his collar, keeping him from moving away.
A low growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating against mine. He makes no move to separate himself from me.
“Remove your fangs, vampire, and get up slowly,” a man says. “If you try anything, you will find my arrow through your heart before you can blink.”
I don’t need to see the man’s face to know I hate him.
Alaric withdraws his fangs. The skin already tingling as it heals, though a few beads of blood escape first.
Then Alaric clears his throat, and I realize I’m still holding on. Reluctantly, I release my hold.
He adjusts my clothes as he slowly lifts himself up. The expression on Alaric’s face as he sits back on his heels is a mix between a smirk and irritation. I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest.
Four more wolves have surrounded us. It’s embarrassing enough as it is without the whole pack bearing witness to such an intimate moment.
“You ought to learn control,” Hunt says.
“And you ought to learn how to knock,” Alaric mutters to the beta at his back.
Everyone has their attention on Alaric, which makes it easier for me to hide the heat searing my cheeks.
“Is she unharmed?” Oliver asks, making his way forward, leading Nyx by the reins.
“We stopped him in time,” Adalynd calls over her shoulder. She kneels behind Alaric to retie his hands.
Oliver stops short, both brows rising as he takes in the way Alaric kneels between my legs, the way I wrap my arms around my middle, and fail to hide the heat stinging my cheeks.
