Blood Mate by Kitty Thomas Page B

draining a
body dry. He barely tasted her. He just needed to repair. The smell
that had risen off his flesh for the past two days faded to nothing.
His face lost its shrunken form and ashen pallor. His skin healed,
papering over the ugly truth of what he could so quickly become
without human blood. He became perfect again.
    He stopped when he
heard the moan of pain escape her lips. Despite her earlier protests,
she didn’t fight when he brought his bleeding wrist to her mouth.
    “Drink. You’ll
feel better. I promise.”
    Her mouth latched
around the wound and she drank for several minutes, something deep
and primal between them grabbing hold of her. When she finished, it
was she who initiated the kiss, her mouth pressing against his in
fevered desperation.
    August’s eyes
widened. It was just the bond growing stronger, the mutual feeding
causing her desire to spiral out of her control. It wasn’t real.
Just a mirage. She’d feel angst about it later. She’d blame him
for “taking advantage,” even though she was the one who was now
stripping her clothes off at an impressive speed and tugging on his
pants to get them down.
    He held her wrists
tight, forcing her eyes to meet his.
    “Owww. August,
you’re hurting me.”
    “Good.” The
pain was the only real thing between them.
    Her shirt gaped
open to reveal the tops of flushed breasts. He ripped it the rest of
the way off her body and took her bra as well. “Pants, off!” he
growled, too impatient to deal with the logistics of her clothing and
too busy with his own. He had fed plenty, he was fine again, but he
wanted to taste her, he wanted to drink more of her.
    August pushed her
against the faux wood-paneled wall and sank his fangs again into her
throat. She writhed against him until he angled his hips and was
inside her, then she went still and started to cry.
    He cradled her.
“Shhhh, poppet. It was always going to happen. You’re fighting
nature and destiny and blood. You can’t fight this. You can’t
fight me. You don’t want to.”
    Minutes passed
with their bodies locked together like that, still, like a sculpture
of embracing lovers frozen in time.
    Finally,
Nicolette’s hips began to move and rock against him in a belated
consent to her own destruction.
    “Yes, just like
that,” he whispered. He went back to feeding as she fucked herself
on him. When he’d had his fill of her blood, he sealed the wound
and then moved her to the bed to finish what she’d started. He
drove in and out of her until they both came, and then his fangs were
in her throat again, taking just a little more. Always just a little
more.
    They lay in the
bed, panting, their breath slowly matching rhythm. He pulled her
against his body and closed his eyes. “Sleep now. We’ll go back
in the morning.”
     
    ***
     
    Nicole lay in the
vampire’s arms, her tears choking her. How could she allow… How
could she initiate…? All illusions were gone—like the illusion
that she could keep things strictly blood. She’d assumed he would
try to fuck her at some point, but never would she have guessed it
would be her throwing herself at him begging him to take her. She
hadn’t said those words. She hadn’t said any words, but her body
had said it all.
    Now the only thing
left was shame and the resolve that it could never happen again. She
could never betray Dominic like this again.
    August’s hands
stroked over breasts, and she flinched.
    “You started
this. You jumped on me like I was your last source of oxygen.”
    She tried to pull
his hand away, but he wouldn’t be moved, and she didn’t want him
to be moved. His hand pressed against her skin made her want to
spread her legs and guide him back inside her.
    As if responding
to her thoughts, he caressed the flesh between her legs until she
began to move against him.
    “You knew what I
was asking for when I said you would give yourself to me. You knew
what this bond was about and what it meant. I didn’t lie to you.