Page 53 of Donovan
Donovan’s presence was a quiet weight, a constant force that was never far behind me, and tonight, I felt it deeper than ever before.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.
I could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady, like a drum in the silence.
Could feel the warmth radiating off him, the rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled deeply, as if preparing for something, as if he already knew what was coming.
Then, in that same low, intimate voice that always seemed to get under my skin, he spoke. “Take what you need.”
My body stiffened, tension winding through me like a taut wire. I turned slowly, shaking my head, as though denying it would somehow make the pull easier to resist.
“Donovan,” I began.
“We had this conversation before. I want this,” he interrupted, his voice softer now, but there was an undeniable edge to it. “I want you.”
The words hit me like a thunderclap, sharp and electrifying.
His eyes were fixed on me, dark with something more than just desire.
It was something deeper, a rawness I hadn’t seen from him before. Something I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge until now.
I decided that tonight, I wanted to give in.
I didn’t speak. Instead, I crossed the room in two strides, grabbing him by the back of the neck, my fingers curling into his soft gold hair.
My mouth crashed down on his, hot, desperate, claiming. Donovan melted into the kiss, his body leaning into mine, his hands coming to rest on my chest.
And in that moment, something shifted. Something inside me snapped into place.
This, us, was inevitable. It always had been. We were two halves of something far darker and deeper than either of us had been willing to admit.
I felt Donovan shiver against me, the sharp intake of his breath as I pushed him backward, guiding him toward the bed.
His lips parted under mine, his body responding with a kind of urgency that matched my own.
When I dragged my lips down the curve of his neck, over his pulse, I could feel it, his blood, hot and thick, thrumming beneath the skin.
He wasn’t afraid. Not even a little.
He still trusted me despite seeing the way I fought earlier. And that only made everything more dangerous.
When he whispered my name, I lost all sense of control. My fangs, sharp and eager, elongated with a hunger I couldn’t fight any longer.
There was nothing left to do but sink into him. To claim him.
I pressed my lips to the sensitive skin of his throat, and without a second thought, I buried my fangs into his flesh.
The rich, intoxicating taste of him flooded my senses, and I groaned against his skin, my grip tightening as I marked him, as I took what had always been mine.
He gasped, his hands clutching at my shoulders as I drank, as the bond between us deepened, cemented in a way I couldn’t explain. I wasn’t just feeding.
I was connecting with him. Shifters called it the mate mark. Vampires called it blood marking. The world around us disappeared.
There was only Donovan. Only the heat of his skin, the steady beat of his heart, the way his blood flowed beneath my tongue, as if he were the only thing that could keep me alive.
There was nothing else to do but give in.
DONOVAN
