Page 65 of A Dance of Water

The most pressing of all these things was the tug of the invisible thread wrapped around her soul.

Soft and hushed was the falling snow against the ground, yet loud to her searching ears.

Warm lips pressed against hers.

And Luella forgot about everything except Bastian.

A soft fizzling sensation against the skin of her chest, but she barely paid it mind.

This, her second kiss. Another thing not freely given but taken.

She honed in on the feel of his lips against hers, close-mouthed but incessant. Searching.

Her hand fluttered up to grip his shirt, and her fingertips brushed against his bare chest from the way the laces were undone. Cold. A soft, pleased noise escaped from her mouth, and he suffocated it with his lips. Warm.

The combination of his cool skin and warm breath made her head light. Or maybe that was the lack of air.

Straining for a breath, she hit against his shoulder, and he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

"See?" He sounded out of breath. "We were made for each other. You cannot resist, even if you tried."

She did not even have the opportunity to take a full breath before he was upon her again.

Bastian’s lips pressed against hers. This time, his kiss was demanding; though, it still retained an air of languid sensuality. As though he had all the time in the world to explore her. Buturgency warred with curiosity, and her mouth was the spoil of this war.

He forced her to open up to him by using his lips. Teeth nipped at her bottom lip, and she jolted from the tiniest prick of his fangs against her delicate flesh. Tangy iron filled her mouth, and he let out a groan, devouring her with a vengeance.

The vampire licked and sucked at her mouth like he was dying of hunger, and she was all the sustenance he could ever wish for—perhaps this was the truth, for she felt his tongue lap against the broken skin of her bottom lip, and he sucked it between his teeth, more careful this time, as he tasted her blood.

A soft, feminine moan was torn from deep within her chest, and his answering groan drowned it out. Her fingers gripped weakly at his shirt, and she pressed her hand fully to the skin of his bare chest, fingers spanning out and feeling his lithe muscles. He angled her face to his liking, tipping her head back to make it easier for him to kiss her more deeply.

Sharp fangs teased against her lips, but he did not break skin again.

Luella grew flushed and uncomfortably hot. Her breaths were quick, her chest pressing against his with every little pant she took. The call between them was joyous, yet that sick and twisted feeling that had corroded its edges crept upon them both, turning what should have been a search for beautiful pleasure between Vincire into a battle against their very natures.

Something swelled inside her; another moan left her. This one was not pleased. But overwhelmed by the nebulous presence.

His answering sound was low and throaty. She swallowed it, her tongue coming out to hesitantly lick against his bottom lip. The hands against her cheeks tightened as if to urge her on.

Tiny licks, begging him to let her crawl inside his body, she searched his mouth with her tongue. Urgency gripped her, making her motions fumbling and awkward, not just the usual lack of skill from a kiss by an innocent, but she could not get enough of him, his scent and his lips and his body and his feel. Him.

The thing inside her grew larger.

And the passion between them grew out of their control.

When Bastian’s fangs flirted with her lips once more, this time he allowed the tip to press upon her plump flesh. Blood filled her mouth. More than a mere prick.

His hands were firm, beyond the point of a gentle, comforting hold.

She whined against him, and it was that pleading sound that made him tear himself away from her.

"Fuck," Bastian groaned. His lips were swollen and slick, the edges red with… her blood. He licked his lips and kept his head turned away from her like he was ashamed. Or afraid to give in. "Stay away from me." His voice was strangled.

Her hands fell from his chest as he stood. The silk of his blouse was wrinkled from her grip. She was splayed upon the cushions indecently, staring up at him.

"I don’t know what to do…" Luella’s own voice was breathless. A pulse swept through her, and she held her midsection, a soft noise escaping her bitten, swollen lips.

Strands of silky black hair fell over his forehead, obscuring his eyes—but not before she saw a strong flash of red.

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