Page 30 of Hound

However, the knowledge our society was well-versed in were feedings. Sharing our blood amongst each other during intimate moments was a norm, a stimulant that fine-tuned and enhanced our systems. In contrast, when done with humans, it was a criminal offense. Vampire blood was the most potent opioid a human could acquire and resulted in implacable hysteria.

Would it incur the same to a lycan?

The risk to ascertain the notion was greater than life.

So be it.

Adrenaline pumped into my gums, fangs extending from their pockets. Before others, they were always evident especially when feeding, to further cement the image I must upkeep. In private, they drew back based on pure instinct. Never had I forced them out in this manner, but as I punctured through my flesh, familiar frenzied sensations webbed around my eyes.

Hunger. Desire. Tenacity.

Copper clashed on my tongue, droplets carving lines on my pale wrist as I forced it to Lorenzo’s paling lips. His nostrils flared yet his mouth didn’t part. “You bloody imbecile! Be stubborn to live, not to oppose me!”

Determination imposed my streaming wound to his pressed lips. Unyielding, he rejected my demand with a slight shake of his head.

“This isn’t a request, Lorenzo.” A deep timber vibrated in my tone. “Feed!”

He stalled by weakly turning his face, but as the uncertainty on his expression dissipated, his lips took my wrist. Everything in existence impetuously snapped into place.

The world's axis titled as the night, the cave, the humid air, all eroded, senses unraveling to attune to the jolt of his Adam's apple, pulling and gulping my blood as though it was the essence to his existence. His possessive growl entranced my body, a calling my veins thrummed to.

Air escaped me as Lorenzo dug his teeth deeper, taking with all his might. Scorching electricity infiltrated every crevice of my being.

Unprecedented pleasure skirted toward desire, flaming as I slumped forward on the floor and onto a wall of muscle, heat and sweat enclosing me. Darkness spotted my vision.

“Fuck. I got carried away,” Lorenzo cursed as he pulled away and straightened. His tone echoed, yet there was a rough, gravelly edge to his amplified voice. Skin fully patched itself on his neck, appearing as if nothing had occurred.

My lips parted, but scrambled thoughts struggled to string words as the familiar intuition clicked, heightening a sudden pull that craved to meet Lorenzo’s propelling right shoulder.

“Take, Christopher.” The darkness consumed my sight as my nose nuzzled against where blood coursed, the curve of his shoulder. His heat swelled and my tongue cried to drink him in.

If a gap existed, it was rapidly closed as I followed Lorenzo’s directions, fangs sinking into shoulder and crunching beyond his flesh. Sweet liquid burned my throat, but the searing sensation numbed as I took, took, took, amplifying the ever-growing electricity that awoke me from a slumber I hadn’t known I was under.

Life was insignificant compared to this. This wasmorethan the essence of it, more than Lorenzo and I compared, burying what I thought to have presumed.

A groan forced me to withdraw in a harsh drawl; however, it was the sudden jab against my abdomen that widened my eyes in a panic.

Vampire heartbeats were known to be vastly different from a human’s. For humans, their heartbeats changed the slightest depending on their intentions. However, a vampire’s was regarded as inaudible due to being customarily slow and heavily moderated.

It rarely changed in its tune, but before Lorenzo, underneath the veil of night and secured between his lap and broad arms, my heartbeat did the inconceivable—it echoed in my veins.

“Your heart is beating pretty fast for a vampire, Doll. Think you need to see a specialist for that.” Lorenzo’s teasing tone filtered through the scraping grittiness in his voice.

“You almost died, you imbecile.” Though I tried to match his bite, it faltered as the weight of the situation fully cemented. Anger charged through me like a live wire. “What the bloody hell did you do?”

The wound had fully closed as if it had never existed. In its wake remained dried blood smeared along his neck and chest, and two tooth wounds against his collarbone, perfectly symmetrical.

Where I had bit and consumed him without qualms.

Lorenzo leaned to the side and slowly pulled at the leftover clothing material hugging his hip. Between his index and middle finger rested a slip of paper with Sylvester’s handwriting.

“What is this?” I unfolded it. “Silverman’s Island?”

“Went back to the parlor and uncovered this by chance. I got this shit in return.” He pointed to the non-existent wound. “A lycan nearly killed me to get that piece of paper.”

“Lycan?” My eyebrows scrunched together. “There’s more?”

“Apparently so and one with a loose screw since he started babbling about finding some mate nonsense before he mauled me.”

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