Page 11 of Bite
“You are,” he agrees, gaze dropping to the side of my neck and homing in on my pulse point. “May I?”
Straight to the point.
Then again, I suppose there’s no sense in beating around the bush. We both know what I’m here for, and I’ve only been booked for fifteen minutes, five of which have already expired.
I jerk another nod, posture stiff and muscles wound tight.
Lucien shifts closer, his knee brushing mine. One hand lifts to sweep my ponytail behind my shoulder, the other resting lightly on my waist. His fingers are cool and precise as they ghost across the hollow of my throat, tracing the flutter of my pulse.
“Try to relax,” he murmurs, voice low and coaxing.
Easy for him to say.
My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest as he leans in, his breath warm and intimate against my skin. My stomach clenches with anxiety and a strange sort of excitement, and it takes everything in me to stay still and not pull away when I hear the soft pop of his fangs extending.
A shiver ripples up my spine when his lips land on my neck. The sharp points of his teeth scrape my skin, eliciting another shiver. Then he bites down.
It’s not like a needle, or a blade, or like anything I expected. His fangs pierce my skin with a strange, slick pressure, and I gasp– not in pain, but something else entirely.
Heat floods through me in a wave, rushing from my neck down my spine and curling low in my belly. Every nerve ending lights up like wildfire, my breath stuttering. Lucien’s throat bobs as he begins to drink from me, and a slow, impossible throb starts between my legs. I clamp my teeth down on the inside of my cheek to stop a sound from escaping, trying my hardest not to squirm.
What the hell is happening to me?
Lucien drinks in slow pulls, his grip steady and firm. His hand at my waist is like a grounding force, holding me still and anchoring me to the moment. I feel myself swaying slightly toward him, lashes fluttering.
It’s dizzying. Electric. Erotic in a way I don’t understand.
And then it’s over.
His withdraws his fangs, tongue sweeping over the puncture wounds in the side of my neck to stem the blood flow. He lazily licks the last drop from his lips, retracting his fangs as he sits back, studying me with fascination like I’m a rare wine he’s just discovered.
“You’re delicious,” he murmurs, voice low and eyes bright with renewed interest.
I blink at him, still a little woozy. “Uh… thank you?”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “No, thankyou,” he croons, licking his lips once more before sliding his phone from his pocket and tapping something on the screen.
A second later, my own phone chimes. I pull it out, staring down at the notification in disbelief.
Engagement Complete.
$300 Transfer Pending.
Well shit.
Just like that, I’m a third of the way to keeping my apartment.
Lucien stands and smooths the front of his sweater, gazing down at me reverently. “Thank you for your services, Marilyn. You were… exquisite.”
A compliment and a goodbye.
I manage a stiff nod and rise to my feet, still flushed and off-balance. “Anytime,” I breathe, as if anything about what just happened isnormal.
He chuckles softly as he slides a palm to the small of my back, guiding me toward the door. My legs are wobbly, my head feels floaty, but all things considered, that wasn’t so bad. It’s the easiest three hundred bucks I’ve ever made.
The black car is still idling in the driveway when I step back outside. I slide into the back seat, heart still pounding, an ache lingering on the side of my neck– and somewhere else I don’t want to acknowledge. I press a hand to my chest, trying to catch my breath.
I don’t even know what I’m feeling.
