It was as if, when she'd kissed him and come on his fingers, she'd changed him. As if she'd somehow planted stronger seeds of obsession in his brain, and those seeds were now growing. He didn't know how to act anymore. Didn't know what to do with her.
He found himself thinking about her at the oddest moments. Like when he was on a date with another woman. Like when he was in the car and reached a traffic light flashing green. Like when he'd cut his fingertip and wiped the blood away.
What claimed the bulk of those thoughts was the fact that there'd been pain mixed with her pleasure. When she'd climaxed, she'd screamed, and it had not only been because of his exceptional skill. He wanted to know why she'd hurt and how to prevent it next time. For there would be a next time.
"Bride," he said more firmly. She was too pale, too still. He knew beyond a doubt she hadn't eaten in days. He'd kept tabs on her, and also knew she'd thrown up her one and only bag of plasma. "Wake up, and I'll let you slap me around. You know you want to."
A moan slipped from her, soft, barely discernible.
Of course the thought of hurting him physically had been the thing to rouse her. Her lashes fluttered open, casting flickering shadows on her cheeks. Those hazel irises were glazed, dull, but when they latched on to the pulse at his neck, they lit, swirled, once more like living emeralds, glowing.
He'd moved her to the bed, and he was stretched beside her, his head resting on his upraised palm. "You need to eat, sweetheart."
Desperately her hands pushed at him. "Get away from me." The words were slurred, thick. Her gaze never left his neck. "You have to get away from me."
"Drink from me. Hurry, or dinner's gonna get cold.”
“Go. Please, go."
"Not until you drink. It's an all-you-can-eat buffet tonight.”
“I said go!"
He tsked. "I don't know why you're so stubborn about this. You're hungry. I'm willing. Maybe you'll be able to keep it all down. Which wouldn't surprise me. It's mine, after all, so there's clearly none better."
"I don't want your blood," she said, trying to scramble away herself.
She didn't, did she? His eyes narrowed. They'd see about that once he prodded her temper. "Guess what? I took a female on a date. An agent. A six-armed Delensean. I haven't had one of those in years. The prospect of having one again amused me."
"I know," she snarled, some of her color returning. "You picked her up immediately after leaving my bed and dropping me off here."
"I can't deny it."
"Did you sleep with her?" No longer was she trying to get away. Now she was leaning into him, nails clawing past his shirt and at his skin. "No, wait. Don't tell me. I don't want to know. I just want you to leave."
"You're right. I should leave. I should go on another date. Maybe with a Rakan this time. I've never had one of those, you know. I've heard they're the best, though, so I really should make an effort to —"
With a roar, she was on top of him, pinning him to the mattress, her fangs in his neck, cutting deep, his blood flowing into her mouth. There was a sting, then only warm pleasure. He could hear her swallowing, purring as the flavor met her tongue. Finally.
"That's a good girl. Take everything you need." Her lower body ground against his.
Already he was hard as a rock, arching up to meet her thrusts. "Just so you know, I didn't sleep with that agent."
A mewling sound escaped her, and her teeth gentled on his neck. When she tried to disengage completely, he petted her hair with firm strokes, holding her in place. "Nope. I'm enjoying this. Because I was such a good boy on my date, you have to see to my needs. That means you don't get to stop yet."
On and on she continued to drink, her purrs growing louder, her body writhing faster ... faster, using him, taking what it needed, propelling her higher. Devyn gritted his teeth against the bliss, determined not to come like this again. A difficult task. She felt so good against him, she smelled like the sweetest flower, was finally doing something he'd commanded her to do.
Spots of color began to cloud his vision; she was taking a lot of blood, but still he didn't push her away. She needed it, and he had it to give. Even enjoyed the giving. "More," he said, the word barely audible. "Everything."
A hoarse cry slipped from her as she wrenched her mouth away. Up and down her chest moved in quick succession, her hard ni**les abrading his chest. Exquisite, he thought. A trickle of crimson slid down her chin. Her lips were red, dewy. Her eyes no longer glowed, but her skin was so rosy it was like the petal of a rose.
"How's your stomach?" he asked. Wow. He sounded halfway to the grave.
"I—it's fine." She blinked in astonishment. "It's actually calm.”
“I was ... right then. Better than ... most."
"Devyn?" she said with concern.
He didn't have the energy to form another word.
"Devyn," she repeated, determined this time. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't mean to take so much. I didn't mean... I'll make it better. Okay? All right?" Slowly she leaned down and kissed him. Drops of his own blood seeped into his mouth. No, not his, he thought then. Hers. She'd swiped her tongue across her fangs, cutting the delicate tissue, and was feeding him that healing blood of hers.
Damn, damn, damn, was the next thought to hit him as some of his strength returned. He shoved her away from him and scrambled from the bed. He was panting, trembling, but he managed to maintain his balance.
"Devyn?" she said uncertainly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take so much. You just tasted so good, and it had been so long ... I'm really, really sorry, but I made it better. I did. You're already stronger. See?"
He scrubbed a hand down his face. She knows nothing about vampires, he reminded himself. She had no idea the magnitude of what she'd just done. Or did she? His gaze intensified on her. She sat up, smoothing her hair from her face with a wobbly hand. She wore an expression of concern and remorse.
No, she didn't know. Her ignorance didn't make it any better, though. He'd come in here to check on her and give her blood.
And okay, yeah. He'd wanted to see and kiss her, but he hadn't come for this. Maybe he should have warned her never to do it. Maybe he should have— No. No! He wouldn't take the blame for this.
"What's going on?" she demanded. "Why are you looking at me like I'm a monster? You're not going to turn into a vampire. Nolan didn't. And I didn't kill you. I just took a little too much blood. Blood you commanded me to drink. You should be thanking me for pulling away in time."