Page 55 of Blood and Magic
I leaned forward and bit her on the side of the neck, sinking my teeth into her flesh above her scent glands. It wasn’t a mating bite, and it would probably heal after the full moon, but fuck, the taste of her blood rushing over my tongue and down my throat shoved us both into a different dimension. The exchange amplified what was already between us. I drew from her, sucking her back, and she screamed in a magnificent outburst of pleasure.
“Fuck,” I said, swallowing down her moans and her cries of rapture. And when it was done, I collapsed on top of her, our torsos sticking together with evidence of the intimacy between us. I wanted to tell her so many things. I wanted to reassure her it would be over soon, but I didn’t know when.
“Mill?” Her small voice had me lifting my head to glance down at her.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Am I dying?” She seemed oddly at peace with whatever the answer would be.
“No,” I told her, pressing tiny kisses to her lips and nose, working my way to her eyes. “Once this is over, you’ll be so very alive.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for helping me.”
Her tenderness turned my insides into a big pile of mush. It hadn’t been like this with Guin. That had only been about sex and blood. I didn’t feel Guin the way I did with Maeve. The older Vanderbilt had transitioned within two days, and when we were done, I had only two bite marks to show for it. Even though I shared my magic with her, it hadn’t resonated so deeply inside her. She left that experience smelling of herself and nothing more, nothing to indicate we had been together at all.
Now, my heart banged against my ribs in a staccato that was for my girl and her alone. I understood what it meant, even in the delirium of the fever, even if I didn’t want to. We shared dreams, my territorial scent flared around her, and I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching her. I’d started to think of her as mine, and wasn’t that a fucking shame?
I was cold and soulless. I had no room in my life or my heart for a mate. I didn’t deserve her, and I never would.
Guin is going to kill me.
Kodiak is going to kill me.
I didn’t care.
Maeve’s transition went on well into the day and the following night. She bit into both sides of my neck until the skin was raw and destroyed from use. Then, she used the other wrist. I did the same to her. We shared everything about each other like we were made to do it. In between bouts of heat, we rested. When the magic reared up again, it plumed out of her in a debilitating wave that pulled me out of any sleep I managed to get.
It wouldn’t always be like this. Shifters didn’t usually drink each other’s blood during sex, and there were only a few rituals that required cuts or consuming the stuff. But I could admit, sucking down her life force while I came made me want to whimper from the undiluted rapture. Pumping into her while she swallowed me down, the magic connected us in divine ways, like we were always meant to be one.
But those were thoughts for the future, when I could look at them with a clear head after ten to fifteen hours of sleep.
Days passed while we were in that bed. The sun rose and set and rose again; still, we remained enslaved to the pull of her change. By the end of the third day, I could barely hold my head up, and I didn’t know if it was because of the nascent bond between us that I’d been so thoroughly wrung dry. I lay on the mattress next to Maeve when the last surge of energy pulsed from her. It was hardly a blip compared to how things started, but it pulled me to her nonetheless. I tried to lift my upper body, but a sharp wave of dizziness forced me down. I took a few steadying breaths before trying again, almost getting my shoulders up before realizing I couldn’t do it.
I grabbed Maeve’s waist and twisted her to the side, her chest to mine, one leg over my hips. I positioned myself at her entrance before sliding in as far as I could go, grimacing through the ache of it. The skin on my cock burned from overuse, but fuck, once she was fully seated, I exhaled in relief.
I’d fucked her at least twenty times in the last few days, probably more. But each time was a Godsend. She rolled her pelvis, her porcelain skin illuminated with vitality, her blue eyes glowing from under her hooded lids, her dainty canines extended between her lips, her dark hair in a tangled halo around her head. She was gorgeous…heavenly…and so full of my magic, she nearly burst at the seams.
“Mill,” she moaned. “It’s so fucking good. I can’t stop myself. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I said, tucking her face under my chin so she could take my throat again. I winced when she speared through the raw bite, but it was what she needed, and I lived to serve her for however long this lasted.
Her orgasm crested in both of us, and when she sank into it, I went with her, moaning and cursing through the frenzied release. My cock sputtered, my knot expanded, and my muscles twitched with overuse. I held her to me, our chests rising and falling together, our pulses in perfect harmony.
The spell broke, finally letting go of its chokehold.
She sighed against me, relaxing against my torso, and I exhaled the weight of what we’d done together, knowing it was time to rest.
On the other side, it was a whole new start to a brand-new life.
Things would never be the same again, not for Maeve Vanderbilt, and certainly not for me.
CHAPTER 17
Maeve
The ache in my muscles woke me, and when I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn’t alone in my bed. I wasn’t in my bed at all, and a warm body lay next to me, breathing deeply in the depths of unconsciousness. I was in the lead worker’s cabin—Vermillion’s cabin—and I was not alright. Something had been fundamentally altered inside me, even if I couldn’t determine precisely what that was.
A new licentiousness squirmed around in my head, urging me to wake Mill by crawling under the covers and wrapping my lips around his cock. The metallic scent of blood coated the air, and the sheets looked like someone had been murdered on them.
