“Easy.” Draven puts out the cigar in the ashtray, spilling ashes onto the table. “She’s agreed to let you bite her. The time will come.”
“I don’t want to bite her,” Laylen makes it clear through gritted teeth. “What I want is to be normal.”
“Normal is overrated,” Draven remarks. “Now, please, feed on her. I’m dying to see it.”
The full reality of what’s about to happen starts to sink in. Laylen’s going to bite me and it’s going to feel… well, as far as I’ve seen good. Yet too good, almost to the point that I might become addicted to the feel of my blood being drunk.
“Tell us about Jocelyn first,” Laylen demands. “Or no deal.”
Draven shakes his head with a wicked glint in his eye as he traces the triangular symbol on his arm with his finger. “We’re not in Keeper’s land anymore my dear Laylen. You are nothing except an ordinary Vampire with a very unfortunate mark on your body that brands you good in the world of the bad.”
Laylen’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard. “Fine.” His eyes reluctantly drift to me and, if it were possible, his skin looks even paler. “Gemma, I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to do it,” I whisper at the sight of the discomfort in his eyes. “If you don’t want to. We can find another way or…”
I trail off as he shifts his body forward in his seat, bending his back and moving closer to me. My chest heaves ravenously as anticipation and fear collide inside me and I turn inward to bring myself closer to him. He maintains my gaze as he cups the bottom of my neck softly, yet at the same time with purpose. I wonder if he can feel my rapid pulse. If he can smell the scent of my blood in my veins. What he’s thinking. I wonder a lot of things, until he leans in so close I feel the heat of his breath caressing my skin, and then all thoughts are lost as a silence overtakes my body.
“Just breathe and try to relax,” he whispers, the pupils in his eyes expanding and taking over all of the blue in his eyes. His lips part, his breathing sharpens and his pointed fangs descend.
My mind tells me that I should be afraid, but my body won’t have any part of it, the prickle on the back of my neck stabs wildly, releasing an abundance of emotions. I lean into his touch, his hand tightens around the bottom of my neck and my knees press into his. I know Draven is watching us, but I block him out and focus on my breathing. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
Laylen’s head slants to the side, so he’s moving in toward my neck at an angle. When he’s only inches away, his tongue slips out and slides across his lips, moistening them and skimming along the tips of his fangs. I feel a tremor in his fingertips as they delve against my skin and I reach forward to grasp onto his legs. I hold my breath as his lips graze my neckline and then squeeze my eyes shut as his fangs pierce my vein.
It’s far more intense than just the scrape. Blindingly intense. A body-altering intensity. I fall so fast into the dark that I can’t even remember what the light looks like. I hear myself groan, however it barely sounds like me, and an invisible connection seals the inside of my body to him. It guides me forward, forcing my back to arch and I end up pressing my chest against his.
Laylen’s fingers stab into my neck and I feel the skin bruising, but the pain only enhances the experience. He feeds on my blood, sucking it out of me and putting it inside himself. My hands clamp down on his legs as I whimper, my body going limp as all the energy is drained from me.
Laylen pauses, the tug from him sucking momentarily ceasing. He groans and I think he’s going to stop, even though my mind is screaming at him to continue. However, then he bites down harder, and suddenly, I’m being laid back toward the table. The edge of it cuts into the center of my back and I cry out as he slides me up and sprawls me down on the table, aligning his body with mine as he sucks on my neck, spilling blood all over my skin and clothes. My hands wind around his back and I stab my nails into his shoulder blades, grasping onto him. I can barely see anything anymore besides the color red. Blood red. I can smell it, taste it. It’s driving me crazy. I need more of something. My body is being starved.
“Laylen,” I manage to choke out, my head drifting to the side as my legs fall open. His body responds, curving inward and rubbing up against me. His fangs sink deeper, plunging into the arch of my neck. Then suddenly he’s pulling away. I think it’s over as he wipes the blood off his face with his hand and licks it off his lips with his tongue. I don’t want him to be done. I want more—need it. I’m not sure where the sensation is stemming from, what drives it. Regardless, I fasten my legs around his waist and cross my ankles tightly around him.