Page 19 of Lost and Bound
He bit down.
I gasped and stiffened. His teeth pierced me, and our shared shifter magic swirled between us, in my blood and his, around and around the points where our bodies were one. I felt the bond form, a pull between us, threads of magic that stitched us together soul to soul. It felt like coming home, sinking into a warm bath, the embrace of someone who loved me.
And it hardly hurt at all, except that every cell in my body ached and burned, knowing I was about to lose it again. That I’d only have this for a few fleeting moments.
That all of this was a lie, anyway.
He lifted his head. “Can you feel it?” Was that a note of wonder in his voice? Something, anyway, that I couldn’t quite identify.
“Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “I can feel it.”
It, me, him. Bound together. Wrapped in ancient blood magic, something no witch or warlock could duplicate.
He leaned down again and kissed the bite, kissing all around it, like it was something precious to worship with his mouth. One hand cradled my skull, the other rested on my waist.
LikeIwas something precious to be held close and tenderly.
I tilted my head, turning my face away from him, baring more of my neck. The air felt cold on the throbbing heat of the bite mark. His knot still stretched me to bursting, the shaft of his cock buried deep.
He leaned down and kissed my neck again. “Nothing’s going to hurt after this,” he said against my skin, so low I felt the vibration of it.
“What?” I opened tear-glazed eyes and stared at the concrete wall. The last thing I’d ever see.
“Nothing’s going to hurt,” he repeated, kissing the bite again, and his arms tightened, his fingers stroking through my hair. “One way or another. You have my word on that too.”
I couldn’t follow that, couldn’t understand. Of course nothing would hurt after I died, but…one way or another? Why didn’t he do it, get it over with, end this agonizing suspense, because every second made it harder to let go? Every touch of his hands made me want more. How had I gone my whole life without being touched like this, even when it was a mockery, a parody, a sardonic commentary on my partial virginity? And I was going to lose it, this feeling. This beautiful lie.
My head whirled.
And then he said something else, even lower and quieter. “Calder. My name. It’s Calder.”
“Calder,” I whispered.
He shuddered, and stroked my waist, and his teeth tore into my throat, ripping me open.
I screamed, and screamed, and he bit deeper, and the gray concrete of the wall faded into blackness.
Chapter 5
Little White Seashells
Pain twisted in the darkness. My body hurt.
I had a body.
Wasn’t the advantage of dying that the pain stopped?
And if this was surviving, I wasn’t sure it was worth it.
More pain, more weakness, and I couldn’t turn away from it. And I couldn’t see, not in this impenetrable dark.
Had I been dreaming? I couldn’t open my eyes. Motion. Screams, and heavy thuds, cacophonous noise. More jolting motion, more pain, silence, heavy breaths and heavier footsteps. Rattling and a roar.
And through all of it, one searing brightness in the dark, pressing into me, like a hot poker cauterizing a wound. I wanted to scream as it burrowed into me, wrapped around me, jolted me into awareness every time I tried to slip away.
And then the brightness dimmed, pulled away, and the pain rushed in to fill the space it’d occupied, and I still wanted to scream, but I couldn’t find my mouth.
That lasted a long time.
