Page 222 of Drown Like Heaven
I didn’t dare look at Mason. My cheeks were on fire, matching the heat in my belly.
“Why?”
“Don’t make me ask again, Dakota.”
I swallowed, eyes locked on Micah’s, but his thoughts were hidden behind the impenetrable blue. All I could do was trust his words, without knowing his reasoning for them. It was what I’d wanted, after all.
Getting to my feet, I wiped my palms on my shorts, moving to clear my plate.
“Leave it,” Micah ordered, halting me. Carefully, I set my plate and silverware back on the table, my pulse running wild. Micah nodded for me to go towards the stairs, so I did, hearing Mason following both of us.
Either he was about to confront me about my relationship with Mason, or initiate some twisted sex. No matter what, it would be a punishment. I wasn’t naive.
Not anymore.
I caught a quick glimpse of my reflection in a mirror as we passed through the living room, catching the flush staining my cheeks and the two men following me. My lips rolled togetherand I stared down at my bare feet as I reached the stairs and began my ascent.God, I wish I could read minds.
Micah’s hand on the small of my back guided me into his bedroom. The sun had begun to set so it was getting dark, everything shadowy and dim, bruised with shades of deep purple.
“Where’s your knife?” he asked and my heart lurched.
“My bag,” I breathed, fingers trembling.
“Get it.”
I obeyed. Mason was standing in the doorway, watching the scene with far less confusion than I’d anticipated. Clearly he knew something about what Micah was about to do. Had they planned this? Or was it an angel thing I didn’t know about?Maybe they’re about to kill me for knowing too much.
My fingers wrapped around the knife and I brought it over to Micah, who took it and flipped the blade open, then carved a line across his palm.
I gasped. Mason blew out a harsh exhale, my eyes shooting over to him. He was gripping the top of the doorframe, his head hanging down, tension bunched in his shoulders.
He was breathing hard now.
I looked back at Micah and the blood dripping down his wrist, glinting with gold.
“Lick my palm,” Micah said, my eyes going wide.
Mason groaned at Micah’s instruction for me, stepping fully into the room, then slammed the door behind him, making my stomach flip. He swore under his breath, tipped his head back against the wood. A million questions sat on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t ask a single one.
I didn’t want to lick the blood off Micah’s palm; I’d never been into that, but this didn’t exactly feeloptional.
He cupped the side of my face with his clean hand, towering over me. Tentatively, I stuck my tongue out, keeping eye contactas I leaned forward and dragged a small line through a drip of blood. The moment my flesh made contact with the liquid, something powerful flooded my synapses.
“In small quantities, ichor can be a drug to humans,” Micah murmured, but I was hardly listening. I’d never felt like this in my life. I lapped up the rest of the stream that’d trickled down his wrist as an unbearable heat pulsed wickedly through my body.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, grabbing his forearm for dear life.
It felt like the gravity in the room had shifted, liquefied, and everything was blurred with a soft glow. The scratch on Micah’s hand was already healing and I found myself wanting to cut him again, just so I could get more ichor on my tongue.
“How’s that feel?” he asked lowly, digging the point of the knife into his thumb. “Good?”
I nodded, desperately reaching for his hand, sighing when he smeared the pad of his thumb along my lower lip. He tightened his grip on my jaw when I darted my tongue out to lick directly over his small wound, then let go of me.
“You’ll follow my instructions, understand?”
“Yes,” I moaned.I trust you when I shouldn’t. I always trust you.
My eyes rolled back, a rush flooding my veins, making my head foggy. Even without whatever the ichor was doing to my brain, I wouldn’t have had any reservations about doing this. But with it…everything felt different.Better. Time slowed and sensations magnified.
