Page 47 of Blood Vows
“I have never felt this way before.” I grinned at that, my breath catching as the tears rising made my eyes glossy.
“Then let’s feel it together,” I said, and his answer came without words. His mouth found mine again, deeper this time, as though something inside him had finally snapped. The kiss was fierce and consuming, a desperate tangle of breath and warmth that stole reason and replaced it with need. His hands slipped into my hair, fingers threading through the damp strands, and the low sound that rumbled from his chest felt like a blood vow breaking free.
When he pulled back, his breath trembled against my lips.
“Nessa,” he said softly, the sound of my name like a plea.
“We need to talk.” But I wasn’t ready for talk, not now, not when the air around us still shimmered with what we had ignited. I shook my head, my hands finding his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palms.
“There’s so much between us,”I whispered, my voice unsteady but sure.
“So much that I don’t understand yet. But tonight isn’t for questions or answers. Tonight there is only us. With the storm outside, and your shadows to guard us from everything waiting beyond these walls.” I told him, and his eyes burned, dark and endless, and for a moment, he didn’t breathe.
“Tomorrow can have us back,” I continued, tracing my fingers up the side of his throat, feeling the tension there, the restraint.
“Tomorrow can bring back the world and all its pain. But this night…” my voice faltered, and I pressed my forehead to his,
“…this night belongs to us.”He exhaled shakily, his hand rising to cover mine, his fingers rough and trembling where they entwined with my own.
“The day may have us,”I murmured, the words barely more than a breath. A statement that he finished off perfectly,
“…but this night can claim us.”He closed his eyes, and I felt the darkness stir once more, curling around us both like a livingthing, soft and possessive.And then he kissed me again, slower this time, reverent. No longer a war between light and shadow, but a truce sealed beneath the hush of the storm. His arms wrapped around me, soon lifting me from the chair, the throw slipping to the floor as I rose to stand before him.
“You’ve no idea how many times I have wanted you in my arms…how I have craved to touch you,”he said, those hands now resting on my shoulders with his thumbs drawing gentle circles at my collarbone. He watched the motion before his hands made their slow discovery down the front of me, his fingertips whisper soft as they caressed over my heaving breasts. My breath caught the moment my nipples pebbled beneath his touch.
A touch I craved more of.
Which was why the second he dipped his head and caught my eyes, I thought I would come undone when he asked,
“I am a thread held to your blade’s edge here, Nessa, so if you don’t want this, then tell me now,” he said, giving me a choice he didn’t need to voice. So, I reached between us and took hold of the hem of my wet pajama top, pausing to tell him,
“There is no stopping this, Vasileios…” I paused so that I could yank the material from over my head, leaving me topless. His eyes darkened as he took in every inch of me. But before he could act, I rose on my tiptoes and whispered,
“…Not when I need you like I need my next breath.”And with these words, the knife’s edge severed the cord, as suddenly I was wrapped in his arms.
And that breath I spoke of was freely stolen.
Especially when he suddenly swept up my legs and lowered me down to the rug in front of the fire, laying me down.
My breath caught as he rose above me, his gaze sweeping over me with a hunger that felt almost reverent. It wasn’t just a look,it was a claiming.The way his eyes lingered, darkand burning, made my skin tighten with awareness. It felt as though he was taking in every inch of me, branding the image to memory, so that even eternity would not erase it.
I tried to steady my breathing, but when he reached up and gripped the hem of his soaked shirt, every thought vanished. The slow drag of wet fabric over his skin revealed a body sculpted in shadow and strength, every line of muscle cut deep and perfect, moving beneath his skin like restrained power.
He was breathtaking. A creature carved from night itself, half-light, half-darkness. The black veins that crawled up his chest and shoulder pulsed faintly, like living threads of shadow, shifting beneath the surface. As if living serpents coiled under his flesh, bound by will alone.
He was a god made of flesh, terrible and beautiful, and I couldn’t look away. The sexual thrill that rippled through me was unexpected but welcomed all the same. He looked devastatingly strong, every inch of him built for power and ruin. And yet, there was a grace to the way he moved. It was measured, deliberate, as though every action was a silent vow. I should have been afraid. Any sane woman would have been. But fear had no place here. Not when my pulse thundered so violently that it drowned out every other sound, echoing the rhythm of the storm that had raged hours before.
This was the man who had haunted my dreams, the warrior born of darkness, and yet here he was, flesh, heat,desire incarnate.My breath stuttered as his hands moved to his belt, slow, confident, the scrape of leather a whisper that teased my skin. Then the dark denim fell, heavy and wet, pooling at his feet with the weight of a promise unspoken.
There was no question now. No denial left to cling to.
This man…this ethereal, broken god of night…he wanted me.
And God help me, I wanted him just as fiercely.
The sight of his aroused cock springing free had a gasp leaving my open lips.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said softly, his voice a dark velvet that sank beneath my skin. It wasn’t just reassurance, it was a vow. The kind that carried weight, as though it were binding in ways I couldn’t yet comprehend.
