Page 98 of A Drop of Anguish
My fingers shake as I steal a washcloth—which is like baby-butt soft, by the way—and run warm water over it. Carefully, I wipe the smeared blood from my upper body.
I let Jarron bite me.
Begged him to, actually.
While I refuse to feel anything negative about that decision, I do consider how bizarre it is. Less than a year ago, if someone had told me I’d be standing here now, I’d have taken myself to therapy, stat.
I finish wiping the fresh wound and find—it doesn’t hurt at all.
No pain? How is that even possible?
The pads of my fingers drift over the bright-red puncture marks. I squirm at the sensation. It’s not painful, or even uncomfortable, like that last one, but it is sensitive. Almost like I’m hitting a nerve that sends a jolt through my belly.
Weird.
I brush out my mess of hair into some semblance of tame, and when I open the door, I find Jarron patiently waiting on the arm of the nearest chair.
“How?”
He tilts his head. “How what?”
I run my fingers over the bite marks. The skin is warm to the touch. “The last time I was bitten, it tore me apart. I could barely move my arm for days. This doesn’t hurt at all.”
Jarron lowers his chin, looking at me through his lashes with dark, angry eyes. He stands and slowly approaches. He palms the side of my face tenderly, but his voice is harsh. “I want to kill him again.”
I lean into his touch.
“This is how it always should have been,” he whispers, eyes softening. He runs the pad of his thumb over the mark. “He was not careful. He did not care how it would harm you.”
I guess I should have realized, given what I know about demon bites—they’re supposed to be pleasurable for both parties. What happened with the wolf… wasn’t. It was an attack.
“He was trying to mark you. Claim you. You did not accept the mark, and he had to battle through that resistance, creating even more damage. What I did was entirely different. The only magic I used was to clear out what lingered from him. I didn’t claim you. And I only took what was given.”
“Thank you.”
Jarron’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”
“I wish you’d stop blaming yourself.”
“Maybe one day,” he says. “Maybe one day you’ll understand why I blame myself and always will.”
I run my hands up his chest, and his eyes flutter closed. He relaxes against my touch, and that power is intoxicating. Without thought, my fingers grip the lapel of his button-up, and I tug him until he brings his lips to mine.
“Is this a dream?” he murmurs against me.
My smirk widens. “No.”
He swallows and then rests his hands on my hips. “What changed?”
I don’t know that anything did change, truthfully. I still have a lot of those conflicted feelings; it’s just that I chose this desire over the pain and fear. I want him. He wants me. And that’s all I even want to think about.
“Are we stillfriends?” he asks when I don’t answer.
I twist my fingers into his. “I don’t know what we are. Let’s just take it a day at a time, okay?”
“Okay.” He smiles, warm and hopeful. I don’t know what this changes, but my own joy is undeniable.
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