Page 47 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

But the droplet called to me like nothing ever had before.

My thumb drifted towards my mouth of its own accord. Flynn’s eyes tracked the movement, his pupils blown wide. The scent grew stronger as I brought it closer, making my head swim.

I dragged my tongue across the pad of my thumb.

Fuck.

Flavour exploded across my tongue—rich, complex notes I’d forgotten existed. Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading through my limbs like wildfire. This wasn’t just blood. This wasambrosia.

There was something else too—a peculiar undercurrent that made my tongue tingle, like tasting lightning. Something…different. Though the thought dissolved as quickly as it came. After so long surviving on cold, lifeless sustenance, of course fresh blood would feel electric.

My fangs raged at me, demanding I pierce flesh rather than settle for this meagre taste. Every cell in my ancient body screamed at me to take more, to feast properly.

Why did he have to taste this extraordinary?

A hot rush of need surged through my lower half, and to my absolute horror, I felt myself…responding.No.Not here, not now, not while I was covered in Eliza’s blood and Flynn was on the verge of a panic attack.

But my body betrayed me, my length hardening against my will as Flynn lingered on my tongue.

Mortification crashed over me as I saw myself through his eyes—a monster with blood still coating my clothes, getting aroused from a mere taste of his essence. What must he think of me? How could I have let myself lose control like this?

I jerked my hand away from my mouth, shame burning through me. “I… apologise. That was… inappropriate.”

Flynn stared at me, his expression unreadable. Something flickered in his eyes—not fear, exactly, but something deeper, more complex. For several long moments, he remained utterly still, as if trapped between conflicting impulses.

“Are you okay?” Flynn stepped towards me, deep crevices splitting across his forehead. “Are you…hungry?”

“Yes,” I quietly admitted.Always.“But please believe I will not hurt you.”

He moved closer still, his movements slow and dreamlike. He reached for my thumb, still wet from my mouth, his hand trembling visibly.

“What are you doing?” Though I’d sooner throw myself into the water than harm him, his proximity was torture.

I watched, transfixed, as Flynn’s fingers traced over his graze with deliberate intent, pressing to draw more blood. My throat constricted at the sight, hunger clawing at my insides with renewed ferocity.

When he rubbed my thumb over his chin, bloodying it as much as possible, then pushed it towards my mouth, I should have resisted. Should have shoved him away, explained that this was dangerous, reckless. Instead, I remained frozen as he brought my hand to my parted lips, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of fear and fascination.

The second taste was even more intoxicating than the first. A soft moan escaped me before I could contain it, the flavour overwhelming my senses.

“Flynn, you need to stop.” The words came out rough, strained.

“Why?” he asked, with a clear hint of defiance.

His eyes held mine as he reached for my hand again, guiding it back to his face. Every fibre of my being screamed to let him, to take what he was so willingly offering. It took everything—everythingI had to step away from him.

“You can have it,” he whispered, voice thick with something I couldn’t quite place. “You can have as much as you want.”

My head spun wildly, reality blurring at the edges. This couldn’t be happening. Flynn—lovely, lovely Flynn—offering himself to me likethis, after witnessing the violence I was capable of mere minutes ago. It had to be shock, or trauma, or the product of adrenaline.

But the look in his eyes spoke of something else entirely. Something that made my heart attempt to stutter in my chest.

Flynn stepped closer, movements cautious yet determined, his fingers working at the zipper of his jacket. The fabric parted to reveal the pale expanse of his throat, moonlight casting shadows in the hollow of his collarbone. My gaze fixed on the spot where his pulse beat strongest, where the blood would flow hot and sweet across my tongue.

I inhaled sharply, catching the heady mix of his cinnamon sugar-sweet scent mingled with traces of fear and… something else. Something that made my hunger twist into an entirely different kind of desire.

“You don’t know how much I want that, Flynn,” I said. “But please, keep back from me. I’m begging you.”

The words felt like they were being torn from my throat.

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