Chapter 39 #3
I stepped back, letting my hands drop.
“Levette—”
There was no surprise, and that was what hurt the most. I was not shocked by his refusal of me, his inability to love me. I knew it would happen, that we would come apart one day to the point of irrepair.
“Denying yourself won’t save your soul, Warren. If there is a part of us worth saving, it’s the part of us that fears damnation. The strive to be better, to love fully.”
The words sat between us, heavy and full of despair. I couldn’t walk away, and I couldn’t watch him walk away, either. It didn’t matter how much it broke me; there was a part of me that had to keep fighting. Like one more argument, one more word, would be enough to change his mind.
“Tell me we were a mistake.” I ran my fingers through my hair before deciding on my next course of action.
I closed the distance between us again, dropping to my knees before him.
“Do you want me to beg? I will pray for you, Warren. I did pray for you. I will barter for your soul to be saved and allow my own to be damned. Just please, please, do not leave me again.”
Warren looked down at me, his eyes wide as his hands swept through my hair.
He looked broken, and I hated how much that pleased me.
Broken meant resigned, and resigned meant acceptance.
It wasn’t easy, and it wouldn’t be something we could work through in one night, but it was a start. It was a real shot.
“We weren’t a mistake,” he whispered, barely audible.
That was all it took, all I needed to know what he was saying.
He was choosing me, us. He was choosing to love himself.
I rose to my feet, grabbing him by the back of the neck and slammed our lips together. It was a collision, an inevitability, and it was all I had ever wanted.
Our kiss deepened, demanding and desperate. It was like we were claiming each other all over again. Perhaps it was the first time. We were giving in, and we knew what was at stake, and it made it all the sweeter.
We began to move, shoving each other against the desk, then the wall, fighting for control.
It felt like I could never get enough of him.
Our first time together had been beautiful, but it was different this time.
We were choosing each other, and our souls practically melded together at the same time as our bodies.
Where he had once been shy and careful, Warren now knew what he wanted.
His hands traveled all over me, ripping off my shirt and tracing down my spine.
Fingers in my hair, lips on my chest, thigh pressed between my legs as I grinded against him.
He didn’t ask for permission anymore and instead took what he wanted, what belonged to him.
If he wasn’t holding back, that meant I didn’t have to, either.
The tiny slither of control I had been keeping snapped and I sank my fangs into his neck.
I knew it must have hurt, and it thrilled me to know that.
I was punishing him with pleasure, getting back at him for making me love him while breaking my heart so many times before.
His blood filled my mouth and I felt it coat my throat, soaking into my system like it belonged there.
Warren tasted sweeter than anything I had ever had before, and somehow, during our time apart, his blood had become more delectable.
He moaned against me, rubbing against me to alleviate some of the pressure of his aroused cock straining against his pants, and I sank my fangs in deeper.
I wanted to be connected to him in every way.
Warren caressed the side of my throat and opened his mouth. Right as he was about to bite, I shoved him hard enough that he staggered backward, his pretty blood dripping down the side of his neck.
“You thought it would be that easy?” I asked, my voice lowered. He panted, looking at me pleadingly. “My handsome love, you owe me. You want my blood?”
Warren nodded, stepping closer. I held up my hand and smirked, licking my tongue over my fangs.
“Then beg.”
The air in the room seemed heavier as Warren growled, shaking his head. “No. Levette, I’m not going to do that, and if you—”
I bit into my wrist, twisting slightly so the skin tore open. Holding my arm out, I let the blood pour onto the floor. Warren’s eyes flared, and I could smell how much he wanted it, needed it.
“Beg me, amoureux. Get on your knees for me, just like I used to do for you, and you can have anything you want.”
There was a silent war raging behind Warren’s eyes.
He deliberated for a moment before he hissed, dropping to his knees in front of me.
I caressed the soft skin of his cheek as I looked down at him.
My perfect love, my damaged counterpart.
From the moment we had met, I knew Warren was all I had ever wanted.
To see him on his knees for me, waiting and ready, made my body feel like it was floating,
“Please,” Warren ground out, his eyes glued to my wrist.
“You can do better than that.”
Warren bit down on his lip, trying to hold himself back. “Since I returned to New Orleans, nothing has been the same. No blood has satisfied me. All I have wanted is you. Your blood, your mouth, your cock. PLEASE.”
I beamed down at him, lifting my wrist above his head. Droplets of my blood dripped onto his face, trailing down his skin in rivers of red. My mouth watered, and I ached to see him bathed in my blood, every part of him covered in some part of me to claim him forever.
Slowly, as though to savor the taste, Warren licked his lips. I watched with a satisfied smirk as his eyes changed and his monster came out to play.