Possession of Souls by Lacey Weatherford Page B

with my legs on either side of him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he stepped in between them.
    He held me close, ravaging my mouth with his, and I let myself drown in the senses he was creating for me as I kissed him back, my own hunger matching his.  I just wanted to melt into him, to be a part of him forever, to show him how much I loved him.
    He kissed me hard and intensely for several long moments before he naturally slipped across my face to travel down to the crook of my neck.  I tipped my head willingly as he sucked at the scar there and felt his teeth beginning to lengthen against my skin.  He suddenly stilled before pushing away.
    “I can’t,” he whispered, dragging in a deep ragged breath, his eyes flaming as he backed down the steps behind him.  “I can’t,” he said again, as if he were trying to convince himself, and he turned and moved briskly across the room.
    I watched him go without saying a word, biting at my now swollen bottom lip, trying to remind myself his rejection of me was because he was trying to prove his love, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.  I needed him with me—in every way possible—and this forced separation he was requiring was not something I was on board with at all.
    He wanted me.  I knew he did, I could feel it radiating from him, and it only strengthened my resolve to make him see the error of his ways.  We would work better together if we were close and without conflict than by trying to maintain distance.
    A little part of me felt guilty.  I knew Vance was an extremely independent person.  He always had been.  I knew if he had a choice he would probably choose to live without blood entirely.  He hated being dependent on anything, and he’d become entirely dependent on me as a source.  I knew that had to be killing him.  He was like a drug addict, craving what I fed him.
    I guess the term junkie needed to be applied to myself as well.  I couldn’t deny the power trip it was for me to have that kind of control over him, and when he partook from me it was one of the most intimate things I’d ever experienced.  I knew that was only because of our relationship together, a side effect of our binding spell, the mental connection, and the physical attraction we shared.  There was certainly nothing intimate about when others had drunk from me.
    I thought of Damien and Catriona and felt a slight shiver run through me.  No, my reaction to being fed from was entirely because it was Vance doing the feeding.  I liked that it melded part of us together, that part of me was flowing through his veins.
    Unbidden, a thought suddenly rose in my head, and I wondered what it would be like if the situation were reversed.  What would it feel like to have his blood flowing through me, his magic racing through my body?
    The thought was so dizzying, it was almost erotic.  I’d felt bit and pieces of his power in the past through our mental connection and during times like when he kissed me while standing in the middle of Stonehenge.  I couldn’t even comprehend what it would feel like to have his astronomical strength actually running through my veins.
    Vance stiffened, standing ramrod straight with his back to me.  He slowly turned, a slight scowl on his face, and his eyes were blazing brightly.
    I realized all of my mental defenses were still down, and he had probably felt every single thing I just thought.  I sat up a little, meeting his gaze head on.
    “Would you like to find out?” he asked me point blank.
    “What?” I faltered, and he began to walk toward me.
    “Would you like to find out what it’s like?  There’s no reason why you can’t, you realize.  The Awakening will keep you from starting a conversion with a blood exchange.” He continued to move toward me, and I found my heart beating at an all new rapid pace.
    “I … I was just pondering things in my mind, trying to understand where you were coming from,” I said nervously.  “I