A Vow of Blood and Tears

19. Cirri

Chapter 19

Cirri

T he hours passed in a blissful daze, all of my attention focused on documenting the trove before me with the level of care the Librarians would have expected. I knew they would be scandalized that my hands weren’t encased in cotton gloves, or that the books were exposed to the light filtering through the high, narrow windows, but the vampires had haphazardly piled these books without a care in the world.

I supposed they had survived not only the fall of the Red Epoch and the bonfires that had dominated those times, but also the centuries since, stored in moldy bookcases, dank cellars, or under altars. One day of touching them without gloves probably wasn’t going to do much further damage.

Even so, it was a time-consuming, painstaking process to gently examine each one, noting the damage—and even worse to have to put each one aside for the next without a thorough examination of the contents. I wanted nothing more than to dig in immediately and begin searching for any text that might unlock more of the High Tongue runes, but the Sisters’ Head Librarian had drilled certain protocols into those of us who studied in her domain.

They really needed a Scrollkeeper for this kind of work. Perhaps, if I became a Librarian, I could find myself aspiring to that lofty position.

I was almost finished with the fourth pile when something touched my shoulder, almost startling me into dropping the precious book I held.

Bane drew his hand back self-consciously, shifting in place. “It’s been hours since you’ve stretched your legs, my lady. Shall we eat before I send you to Wyn?”

I blinked at him, and then at the dark windows. When had night fallen? Someone had come around the library and lit all the fat beeswax tapers, and I hadn’t noticed their presence, nor the exchange of daylight for candlelight.

When I straightened up and stretched my back, there was a dull ache in my spine from hunching over the books.

By the Light, he had a good point. I carefully laid the book back where I’d found it, and flipped in my journal to the conversation page, sucking in a breath as my back protested movement.

Still, I smiled at him before I wrote. It was sweet of him to phrase it like that… for us to eat together, though he would really like to sit and keep me company.

I completely lost track of time, but yes, I’m starving. Why am I going to Wyn?

Bane pulled my chair out for me and offered a hand, which I took thoughtlessly. Somehow the thought of his claws didn’t frighten me quite so much anymore—his hand was as warm and soft as anyone else’s. The sheer size was less of a concern now, and more of a comfort, like being enfolded in an embrace.

“She’s working on new art, and she needs a little more of your blood. She might have questions for you as well. But we’ll worry about Wyn later, shall we?”

I expected him to lead me from the library and to the great empty expanse of the formal dining room, but instead he brought me to a table near the library’s doors, already laid with a cloth, several covered dishes, and well away from any of the books.

“I thought… you seemed to dislike the other room,” Bane said quietly. “I thought perhaps you’d like to stay in here. This is your library now, after all; I can have Cook deliver meals while you’re working.”

I squeezed his hand as tightly as I could, which he probably hardly felt at all, and sat down, laying my journal to the side and uncovering the first dish. The scent of food hit me and my stomach chose to shriek instead of just grumbling.

She’d made a venison stew, along with buttered bread and a dish of roasted vegetables. I dug in with my left hand, writing with the right, a system I was quite used to from my days in the Cathedral.

Thank you so much. It really is like you know me already, isn’t it? It’s much cozier in here than the dining room.

He read my words as I ate one-handed, trying to rapidly shovel food into my mouth as politely as possible, which I was likely failing at miserably. But I’d skipped the midday break, and now felt ravenous enough to eat an entire horse.

“I agree. Even when there’s more humans living here, no one really likes that room…” He grimaced a little, his fangs glittering in the golden candlelight. “It’s just for show. Have you gotten through the inventory yet, or is there more?”

Definitely more. The books are simple enough, but the scrolls will take some time. They’re far too fragile to unroll without extreme care. But I think within a few days, I’ll be able to start the search for a parallel corpus and hopefully find something to continue the translations.

“I have every faith in you,” he murmured, and fell quiet, leaning back in the sturdy chair he’d taken for himself. I let my pen rest, taking a few more bites before writing again.

Did you finish your arrangements? You don’t smell like the forest today, so you didn’t go hunting.

The other night when he’d saved me from my own misery at dinner, I’d caught the fresh scent of pine and cold air on his clothes; now he smelled like himself, the warm, rich scent of smoky woods. Nor was he stripped and messy, like the day he’d been lifting wagons overhead. What duties did the Lord of the Rift have? I had no idea what went on in the life of a noble.

“You can smell that?” he asked, tilting his head.

I shrugged. I can smell the pines on you when you come back from hunting .

He thought for a moment. “Do I smell bad to you?”

I stared at him, wondering why he would be concerned about that. Not at all. You smell like cedar and smoke to me. And warm skin. So what did you do?

“Ah.” He glanced off towards the library proper, avoiding my gaze. “I did finish my arrangements, yes. We’re hosting guests now, and Wyn’s project required some attention… and I already ate my dinner. I thought it best to be well-fed before I asked you to come to bed. I was wondering if you could smell such things.”

Oh. Oh .

He thought I could smell the blood he’d drunk… and yes, I could smell it, the faintest iron tinge to his normal warm scent.

But not enough to bother me.

I took a bite as I thought, wondering when I’d grown used to the tang of fresh blood. Wondering why I couldn’t bring myself to submit to his teeth, if it didn’t bother me to know and fully internalize the fact that he’d bled someone before coming to see me.

I’ve gotten used to the scent of it , I wrote. It’s there, but it doesn’t bother me at all. Is that why you didn’t want to tell me?

Bane gazed down at his hands, folded in his lap. “Yes. I didn’t want to disturb you with talk of my meals during yours.”

But you drink blood , I pointed out, rather obviously. So it’s bound to come up at least every once in a while. I’m still working on the thought of it being my blood, but… it’s not exactly a mystery to me that your kind lives on it. You’re not going to put me off my appetite by mentioning that you ate.

The monster across from me gave me a crooked smile. “It’s just not the same. I can ask you how you enjoy your meals, or if something is to your liking, but for me… well, it seems more polite to not mention it.”

If it makes you feel better… I raised my brows at him. How did you enjoy your dinner? And don’t try to weasel out of it with a silly answer.

“Cirri, this is not going to help your fear of me,” he muttered, and I tapped the question imperiously. “Fine. For the most part, I don’t require much blood to survive on a day to day basis—I will drink more if I must go deeper into the fiend metamorphosis, but I prefer to maintain this aspect. I take my blood from prisoners—those condemned to death, those who have no chance of being permitted parole from the dungeons. It’s preferable to making a mistake with an innocent. As for the enjoyment… no, there’s not much that’s enjoyable about drinking from them. It’s simply a necessity, rather than something pleasurable. Now, have I put you off your meal?”

No , I wrote, eating a heaping spoonful of stew to drive the point home. I was curious and I wanted to know. Do you drink from them, or do you… I don’t know, decant it like a wine first?

Bane read my question incredulously, then let out a snort of laughter that only emphasized the ridges of bone and cartilage across his nose and brow when he grinned. “We’ve always called it ‘harvesting’, but now I’ll refer to it as ‘decanting’.”

Did it have a fine bouquet? I asked, unable to resist.

“Let’s just say it was well-aged, with notes of hard labor, no remorse, and a future death sentence.” He shook his head, still chuckling.

I polished off the stew, nibbling at the vegetables and thinking. He could joke about it, but it was obvious that he only fed as much as necessity dictated—I supposed that I too would dislike harvesting blood from condemned prisoners. Food was really such an intimate process with one’s own body that the idea of consuming blood from a monstrous person seemed invasive.

But he fed from them only because he didn’t want to harm someone innocent… and that scared me as much as the needle-sharp teeth. When I thought of Bane’s mouth at my throat, those teeth piercing flesh, I feared that he would lose control. That the taste of fresh blood, straight from the vein, would bring the beast in him to the surface.

There was no logic to the fact that I loved being near him, yet feared such a fundamental aspect of his being.

I wanted to overcome this horror, but I couldn’t afford to try again and fail. Not when I’d so clearly made him question himself the first night we’d tried, and if I failed again… I might completely shatter this burgeoning friendship.

“Cirri?” he asked quietly. “Are you… well?”

I nodded, realizing I’d been drifting off in my own thoughts, caught between my desire to try and my fear of making him feel inferior.

I was thinking , I wrote. There’s vampires all over Argent, but since I lived in the Cathedral, I almost never saw them. Everything I know about your people is purely academic. I do know that there were places where people could go if they wanted to be fed upon—but we were forbidden from so much as laying eyes on those shops. The Sisters think they’re heresy.

I flipped to a clean new page after Bane read it.

“Of course they do,” he muttered. “Yes, that was part of the arrangements in the Blood Accords. By law, none of us can feed without explicit permission—although I will note that we specifically added an addendum for the sake of the other three Lords and myself. Obviously, no one is going to line up for us to drink from them, so we’re permitted to decant blood from prisoners sentenced to death. But for most of my people, they have no problem sating their thirst. Those shops opened solely so those interested in my kind could… experiment for themselves. I’ve been told most of them return quite often.”

So… it really doesn’t hurt, then? I’ve read such a thing, but it’s hard to believe.

He leaned forward, his brow furrowed more than usual. “There is a pinprick of pain in the beginning. But after that… we can give those we feed upon a sense of ecstasy. I suppose there is a reason why relationships between our people are growing more common.”

How common is that, exactly? I wouldn’t say there were many married vampire-human couples in Argent, despite the blood shops.

Bane shook his head, flexing his clawed finger as he thought. “Marriage? No. You have to be quite sure of the commitment to share blood in such a way, as the chosen human will live so long as they take blood from their vampire lover, and a vampire will only share their blood out in the case of such devotion. But for those who are simply lovers, the vampire’s thirst will be slaked, and the human will receive ecstatic sex in exchange. That is quite common now. It’s how most of my knights feed—quite a few have lovers throughout the Rift.”

The hated flush crept into my cheeks at the thought, especially since I hadn’t forgotten the feeling of Bane waking up curled around me in bed, and the thought of his body hadn’t been far from my thoughts all day.

I realized Bane was watching me, his amber eyes pensive.

“Cirri, if I still had my old face…” He touched his own face, his claws against a protruding cheekbone. “If I were still that man, would you have feared my bite so much? Or would that face, that form, have made it easier?”

I didn’t hesitate before writing. The thought of any vampire biting me frightens me. I’m afraid you’ll lose control. Even if you looked like that, it would’ve changed nothing. It was too soon for me to try, when I’ve spent a lifetime among people who hate your kind, and growing up, I was fed nothing but horror stories about your people. There is no amount of beauty that can change that fear.

He leaned back, a neutral expression carefully in place. I couldn’t tell if he felt better or worse for my answer, but either way, it was the truth.

And with the truth, that conversation ended.

“Are you finished?” he asked abruptly. “I should take you to Wyn.”

I nodded, feeling like I’d ruined a perfectly good moment, and packed my journal and pen away. One of the keep servants slid past us unobtrusively, packing up the tableware I’d left behind—it made me feel a little guilty to see someone else picking up my mess.

But Bane had taken my hand, and as he guided me to a corner of the keep I hadn’t yet seen, new scents met my nose: the omnipresent tang of blood, but also herbs and smoke and spices.

“This is the Tower of Autumn, where Wyn and Visca live. You are never to enter if she’s not here, understand?” He took a breath when I looked up at him. “I don’t mean to condescend to you as though you’re a child, but there are things here that are dangerous to all of us. Things that should never see the light of day. Nobody is permitted in this tower without Wyn’s presence, not even me.”

Now I’m not so sure I want to go in , I signed. Maybe we should just go to bed?

He knocked on the door, and Wyn opened it, her eyes gleaming with a fervor so intense I wondered if I’d spend the next hour looking over lists with her.

“Oh, lovely, she’s here.” Wyn beckoned me in, and shooed Bane away. “You go on. I’ll send her to you when I’m done.”

I looked back at Bane, silently begging him with my eyes to save me, but Wyn shut the door on him and hustled me into a chaos of desks and tables and arcane alchemical equipment. I was suddenly more conscious of my elbows than I’d ever been in my life.

“I’m working on something that requires another donation of blood. I’ll need… oh, about as much as we required for the ritual of the vows. Come here.”

She brought me to a desk covered with clean cloth, laid out with an iron vessel and another one of those leaf-shaped blades, polished to perfection.

With an internal sigh, I held out my arm and signed with the other. What is this for?

“I will suppose that you asked me the particulars of this donation, and I shall tell you… absolutely nothing.” Wyn gripped my hand gently, aligning the blade at my wrist. “I haven’t the faintest idea if this will even work. I’m stretching my arts and knowledge to their absolute limits, which is very exciting, but also…”

Also what?

The knife bit into my wrist, and I winced as Wyn turned my arm over, massaging it to increase the blood flow into the vessel.

“Well, it may end in death and tragedy, but there’s a price to be paid for knowledge,” she said cheerfully.

I wondered if she was entirely sane, or if years of living in the Below had given her a rather warped view of things.

It took several minutes to collect the blood she wanted—at least twice what I’d given for the vows—before she pressed a healing cloth to the wound and instructed me to hold it there.

She covered the vessel with a length of white silk, then leaned on the table and eyed me beadily. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to speak about to you.”

I tilted my head in query; my wrist still stung too much to move that hand.

“You are starving Bane.”

An accusing silence fell between us. Wyn didn’t blink even once, keeping her gaze fixed evenly on me.

I tried to sign, but she shook her head. “I don’t want to hear excuses. You made the vows to offer your blood as his, and you are starving him. He is living on the blood of murderers and rapists—a Lord , polluting his body with that filth, because you are starving him .”

A lump formed in my throat, and I tried to swallow it down; wasn’t I spending enough hours of the day wallowing in my own guilt, knowing I was denying him the blood I’d promised him and unable to shake my terror of it?

When he’d painted the picture of it for me, he’d somehow made it seem so distant; drinking from those who were convicts, prisoners… but hearing Wyn state it so baldly made it a thousand times worse.

He drank from rapists. From murderers. Not from someone who offered their blood with love.

No wonder he hadn’t wanted to speak of it to me.

“I’m not going to rail at you and demand to know why,” Wyn said. She tucked a lock of silver-and-blonde hair behind her ear, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “As I said, I don’t want to hear excuses or reasons. But I do want you to know what is happening—that he is slowly starving, because the ancestors know that he despises drinking from the veins of such foulness. And you should understand that if this should continue, whatever respect you have now from our people will fade into dust. You will be considered a ball and chain around his ankle, and your death and the subsequent choosing of a new bride will be a cause for great celebration.”

Something stung in my eyes; I blinked hard, trying to get it out. Maybe some dust, or an eyelash, but certainly not tears at the fact that I was a burden on Bane’s life.

“I’ve told you before that I like you, Cirrien, and that remains true,” she said gently. “But to a vampire, this is a grave insult. They won’t care that you were chosen by the whims of fate, or that you didn’t ask for this; they will only care that you made your vows to him and failed to uphold them. I know it’s not fair.”

Life isn’t fair , I signed, letting the bandage slip away. I’d rather feel pain; I thought I might deserve it a little.

“If you want to avoid being hated, and merely tolerated because you’re a requirement, I would suggest trying a little harder. We love him, but we hardly know you. And right now… when we look at you, we see a fiend in constant pain from his thirst, and a woman who has no marks on her.” She closed her eyes. “I once offered to find him a new lover if you could not handle the reality of your new life. If he continues to starve, to live in the agony of constant thirst, I will renew that offer. You will be the Lady of the Rift in name only, but his devotion will never be yours.”

By the Light, my throat ached; with unshed tears and words I couldn’t speak to defend myself. But how could I defend myself? She wasn’t wrong.

The vampires would see me as a leech, maybe even worse than one: I lived in luxury now, had been given everything my heart desired, and… I couldn’t even try to share my blood.

“I’m always the one lecturing you, aren’t I?” she asked with a wry smile. “Visca tells me to let it go—that you two will find your own way, or you won’t. But I’m not the kind of person who can just let things be. If you hate me for this, I’ll accept that, but I can’t let this continue without a warning.”

I nodded, still trying to swallow past that lump in my throat. It was fairly done.

She led me to the door and opened it. “I’m sorry, Cirrien, but if it’s hatred, you must find a way to let it go. If it’s disgust, you must find a way to reject it. And if it’s fear, you must find a way to overcome it. If there’s one thing I can promise, it’s this: Bane will never harm you.”

I nodded, and stepped into the hall with my head down. My own shame didn’t allow me to meet her eyes.

Without waiting for another word, I strode down the corridor, wanting to be alone with my own thoughts.

I couldn’t imagine hating Bane, nor even being disgusted by him, but… the fear I felt near his teeth was so overwhelming. How the hell was I supposed to overcome that stark, shrieking terror?

Most of all, I felt terrible guilt. Bane had gone out of his way to welcome me, to understand me, to give me a new purpose, and what had I done for him?

Nothing.

I slowed as I approached the Tower of Winter, and took the bandage from my wrist. The cut Wyn had made was now a pale pink, scar-like mark.

The knife had been as sharp as Bane’s teeth. Surely it wasn’t so much different.

Just… like many knives. All at once.

In my throat.

I shivered, my arms and back prickling with goosebumps, and shook that thought away. He was terrible to behold, but gentle and kind. He would never hurt me deliberately.

I tucked the bandage in a pocket in my dress, and steeled myself. I didn’t give a damn about the luxury, or the maids, or the pretty dresses. I cared only about Bane himself, and between the lines Wyn had made it clear—I wasn’t just starving him, I was making him feel worthless and unwanted.

That was the last thing I wanted to do to him.

So, to steel my nerves, I recounted my accomplishments. I had worked my fingers to the bone and sold years of my life to achieve things the Sisters hadn’t thought possible of me, but by the Light, I had done it anyway.

And if I could do that , then I could master my fear.

I could be what Bane deserved.

I stepped into the tower, shutting the door behind me. Bane stood at the foot of the bed, his back to me… he’d peeled off his oddly-tailored shirt, exposing his broad shoulders and brawny torso, the armor-like, blunted thorns rising from his spine and shoulders. That coal-black mane of hair spilled over his shoulders.

Fear gripped me, sharp and implacable. He was gentle, but still a beast. Kind, but still a monster.

With terribly jagged fangs.

“You’re here,” he said. “Come to bed, Cirri.”

By the Light, I was a coward.

I put my journal on the nightstand, and unlaced my overdress, following his orders and climbing into bed like I belonged there.

I didn’t belong at all. I didn’t deserve a single nice thing if I couldn’t bare my throat to him.

But my body betrayed me as he climbed into the bed, remaining motionless. It would take exactly one simple movement to tip back my head, exposing my neck, but my spine remained adamantly locked in place.

Bane curled his large form around me, and tentatively reached out to wrap a hand around my waist. “May I hold you?” he asked, his deep voice huskier than usual, a banked fire glimmering in his amber eyes.

Yes, you’d better . I wriggled closer to him, soaking up his warmth.

How could I be so afraid of his teeth, yet so intrigued by the rest of him? I breathed in his scent as his hand snaked around me, pulling me closer. The size of his body, the smoothness of that coal-gray skin… I was aware that he still wore trousers, hiding himself from me, but his cock was hard as stone behind those laces.

I reached out, tentative in my own way, and rested a hand on his chest.

Would he push me away if I tried to touch him?

Bane’s eyes glimmered faintly in the dark. “What are you doing, my Cirri?”

His Cirri. It almost took my breath away.

Touching you . I knew he wouldn’t understand, but I still signed. I’m curious about you.

To make my point, I splayed my hand on his chest once more, his skin like velvet against my callused fingers.

Then I trailed them down, moving over the hard muscle of his stomach, tracing the contours of the ridges and valleys…

He took my hand, stopping me in my path. “You are afraid of me.”

I looked up at him, at those eyes gleaming with yellow nightshine in the darkness.

“You have good reason to be.” His smile flashed, the faintest moonlight catching the edges of his fangs, and a chill ran down my spine. “I won’t allow you to force yourself to touch me. But if you let me… I’ll show you that you don’t need to fear.”

It wasn’t his touch I feared, only his bite. My own muscles were rigid, still tense from Wyn’s accurate accusations, and to Bane, who was sensitive to the body language of prey… that must feel like I was terrified, forcing myself to be here.

But I would have to get my journal to make myself clear, and I didn’t want to get up from the warm circle of his arms.

Instead I nodded, still looking him in the eye, and carefully removed my hand from the cage of his claws to put it on his chest again with a very deliberate motion.

He exhaled, his disfigured lips twisting into a smile. He slipped his hand around me again, stroking my waist through the thin gown. His thumb brushed the bottom curve of my breast, and despite the fangs on display, my nipples hardened to tight buds.

“Do you trust me to touch you?” he asked, and I nodded again.

His hands were so soft and warm. Every movement was thought out, his claws held away from my flesh. He stroked with the pads of his fingers, moving his palm down over my thigh.

I tensed only for a moment, when he bunched the edge of my gown in his fist, and Bane waited until I relaxed.

It’s not you , I signed. I’ve never really been one for getting naked in front of people.

I’d met the Cathedral hostler in the attic atop the Sisters’ stables, where the light was poor. He’d seen me nude in bits and pieces, but most of our trysts were done quickly and clumsily in the dark. As for the bowyer’s apprentice, it was the same: on my rare evenings off from studies or work, we would meet in the park, or occasionally a cheap room in an inn, and we never took the time to study one another. They were meetings to release tension, to have a quick connection with another human, little more.

But Bane was neither a gangly lad nor a taciturn man. I sensed his own curiosity, his own desire, swamped by the need to be careful.

So I stroked his hand, encouraging him.

He held his breath, drawing it up over my thighs, his fingertips never leaving my skin. He trembled .

It was that little quiver of the fingers that destroyed me inside.

Touch me , I signed, and put my hand on his cheek, cupping him in my palm.

He finally let out his breath, sliding the gown up over my hip. His hand rested on the curve, fingers tightening for a fraction of a second as though he meant to grab me fully.

But he moved his hand upward, over my stomach, until he cupped a breast. His thumb brushed my nipple, sending a shiver of pleasure through my nerves.

I would never be able to speak my desires aloud, but I had learned to express the sounds of my pleasure through breath: a soft gasp, an exhale of ecstasy. But I’d had to think about those, how to express myself to men who weren’t there to listen, but only to feel for a brief time.

With Bane, I didn’t have to think. I drew in a sharp breath, my back arching, and he squeezed again, kneading my breasts as his own breathing grew raspier.

His hand moved down, the very tips of his claws leaving pink lines on my skin, and he gently pushed my legs apart.

I had to trust him, as much as I wanted him to trust me, so I didn’t fight. I obeyed his silent order, my skin aflame from the way he looked at me, with hunger and barely-restrained lust. His cock was pulsing with his heartbeat against my leg as he traced his claws from my inner knee to the apex of my thighs, and my clit tingled with anticipation.

But Bane hesitated, swallowing, and a thrill of fear spiraled through me. His claws were sharp, and compared to him I was fragile, as delicate as glass.

But terror was a bedfellow to lust; adrenaline hummed in my veins, my nerves icy with fear and burning with desire. I had felt it for him before and it returned now, consuming me, a desperate need to feel him.

My stomach flipped as his head lowered, his forked tongue slipping between his fangs.

The twinned tips flickered over my breast, tasting me. They split, wrapping around my nipple and tightening before Bane released me. He snarled deep in his throat, and the primal need in that sound made me shudder as one massive finger slid between my nether lips.

I gasped without thought, my hips jerking forward, and Bane hissed.

“Be still, lover.”

Of course. There were claws, very close to a sensitive place.

I wanted to touch him in return, to wrap my hand around that throbbing shaft, but Bane’s muscles were quivering against me, his hand cupping my pussy, one fingerpad pressed to the swollen, aching pearl.

I realized he was holding himself back. If I tried to touch him and succeeded… he might forget his promise to be gentle. He might not be able to help it.

So I obeyed again, my breathing fast and shallow, forcing myself to be still.

He moved again, stroking me with the pad of his finger, bringing wetness from my core to my clit. My breath caught in my throat, all of my focus on holding myself still, but I couldn’t help the slight arch of my hips against him.

Not while heat was spiraling through me, settling in my center like a flood of fire. He moved his fingers in tight circles, pressing down harder with every pass. A low growl emanated from his chest, his eyes fixed on my pussy and the muscles jumping in my stomach.

“Gods, I want you.” His voice became distorted, so low it rumbled in my bones. “I want to taste you when you come.”

I couldn’t hold still, my nerves tingling, the sight of Bane’s restrained wanting overpowering even the fear of his fangs. My hips moved, rocking with the motion of his hand. His pupils had become thin slits, the sign of a hunting vampire.

That forked tongue tasted the air and he groaned, fingertips crushing against my clit harder, and that force, with the intent look on his face, shattered me.

My entire body shuddered, hips bucking, and Bane crushed his entire palm to me—keeping his claws from my flesh, grinding against my clit as the uncontrollable peak exploded through me, my breath as raspy as his. My nails dug into the blankets beneath us as I rode it out.

I finally collapsed in a languid puddle, skin flushed, and Bane slowly caressed his hand up over my stomach.

He was still hard as iron, his shaft ground against my hip, but when I reached for him…

He caught my hand, pulling me against him, my back to his chest. I should’ve known, but I was too wrung-out to fight.

“My lovely Cirri.” His voice was rough, raw, but his arms were an implacable prison. He stroked me from shoulder to hip, his fingers dancing over my skin. “You’ve trusted me. Let’s not tempt fate now. Sleep with me.”

I understood. He was on the edge, torn between thirst and desire.

And I was still too much of a coward to face the beast’s fangs.

So I settled against him, letting the sleepy, warm glow take me under.