Page 45 of Demon's Bane

Once I bite her there won’t be any going back. Having her blood on my lips, my tongue, sliding down my throat to pool in the very core of me, only leads to something larger and more dangerous than either of us are ready for.

Instead of tempting that particular thread of fate, I turn my attention back to her lush, crimson mouth.

Joan surges up to meet me. Her hands clutch at my horns and her lips part for me immediately.

I swallow back a chuckle when I realize the logistics of it all. Joan is easily a foot shorter than I am, so instead of giving myself a crick in the neck, I reach down and take her pert, rounded ass in both hands. Gripping her tightly, I haul her up against me and rumble my approval into the kiss when she wraps her legs around my waist.

It may have been a mistake.

Holding her this way, letting her fit her sweet, soft body against mine, desire pounds through my veins in an inexorable command.

Claim her. Fuck her. Keep her.

I could lay her out on one of these tables, strip her bare, make sure she was hot and wet and ready for me before…

But… no. This is just a kiss. The first of thousands.

And I will savor every second of it.

Joan, the strong-willed witch that she is, grips my horns and silently demands my entire attention, my absolute surrender.

And by the Goddess, I would not deny her.

I part my lips for her and she strokes her tongue into my mouth, learning the tastes and the contours of me, gasping againwhen I reward her with a sharp rasp of fangs against her full bottom lip. Her hands tangle in my hair and tug hard, sending an electric thrill across my scalp and down my spine.

And when she pulls away—breathless, eyes glazed with pleasure—it’s another blow to my restraint.

If Joan is a vision in any mundane moment, then the sight of her here, now, glowing with desire and flushed with her need for me, is nearly enough to send me to my knees.

“Do you feel it, little mate? Or do you still deny the truth?”

“How would that even be possible?”

I chuckle softly at her not-quite acceptance of the truth pulsing between us with each beat of our hearts.

“How would it not?” I challenge, brushing my lips against hers and savoring the sweet sound of pleasure that escapes her.

She leans into the kiss for a few moments before pulling away sharply. “Why are you only mentioning this now? If you’ve thought I was your mate since the night you met me, why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

Guilt slices through the haze of my arousal. “Would you have let me stay, if I’d said something sooner? Or would it have all been too much, and you would have never taken Esme’s deal?”

Joan’s brow furrows, and her eyes dart back and forth over my face as she contemplates the question. “No… well, maybe. I don’t know.”

She lets out a frustrated breath, though to my endless gratification she keeps her arms and legs right where they are, clinging to me as she grapples with all of this.

“I was afraid, Joan,” I confess. “I knew how skittish you were that first night, how you barely agreed to my and Esme’s terms. I thought telling you would make you order me away.”

“Would I have been wrong to tell you to get the hell out?” she asks, and the teasing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth tempers the slightly harsh response.

“Perhaps not,” I allow, dragging my lips from her forehead to her temple to the soft curve of her cheek. “And then again, perhaps you would have been. Perhaps you would have felt my absence just as keenly as I’ve felt yours any time we’ve been separated. Perhaps you’ve felt the magick between us since the moment I stepped foot in Beech Bay, even if you haven’t known what it is.”

Joan’s eyes widen as I pull back to study her face. She opens her mouth to reply, then closes it, then instead of answering, she kisses me.

Hard, devouring, a claim to rival my own.

The strength and possession in her kiss makes my knees buckle, makes me ache to bury a fist in her hair and have her look at me, challenge any doubts she might still be harboring.

But she pulls away before I can, breathing hard. “It… it’s not going to work. Whatever this is.”

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