Chapter 30
I’ve lost my mind. I’ve completely, utterly lost it for this man.
I knew it the moment he said he was going to feed—because the thought of him taking it fresh made me nauseous. He once told me he didn’t just drink for sustenance, but that he indulged. That he loved to fuck while he fed.
Fucking Vendra herself. The flood of emotions that hit me: jealousy, pain, rage. All of it merging into one undeniable truth.
I want him.
I want Kayn.
I’m a fool for pushing him away. Even if this is ephemeral, even if it’s doomed, why shouldn’t I feel good while I still can?
And Gods, does he feel and taste so good. I have never been kissed like this. Like he’s starving for me, as though he’s claiming me with every drag of his mouth. There’s nothing gentle about it; it’s primal, possessive, a desperate hunger that mirrors my own.
This is what I always hoped for from the bond. That he, or she, would make me feel weightless with a single touch. That being with them would feel like living inside a dream I never needed to close my eyes to enter.
That’s this moment.
His beard is surprisingly soft, not coarse or wiry, just perfect. I’ve imagined what it would feel like everywhere on my body. The same way I’ve wondered what his tongue, now sliding against mine in a rhythm that ruins me, would feel like against every inch of my skin.
When he breaks away, I’m panting, dazed, barely catching my breath before he drags me back in. I’m dizzy from the intensity alone, and I may need to remind him that I am, in fact, a creature that requires air to survive.
“Fuck, Amarah,” he croons, and godsdamn my name has never sounded so good.
This time he doesn’t dive back in to devour my lips. Instead, he drags his mouth down my jaw, biting and sucking until he reaches my neck. His fangs graze my skin, a feather-light threat, and I grip harder at his shoulder-length hair.
“Wait—wait!”
I panic and shout it through the bond. The force of it startles him, and guilt punches me square in the chest.
“Sorry… I just—I’ve never been fed on.”
“Good. I’d have been pissed otherwise.”
He buries his face into my neck, kissing along my pulse point, just above the curve of my shoulder. “I’ve thought about having my scent flowing through you for weeks now. When any Dylox gets near you—including people like Rane—they’ll know you’re mine.”
His tongue drags upward to my ear, slow and deliberate, and I shiver so hard my knees nearly buckle. The bathroom is hot, steam clinging to skin and tile alike, but the chill he leaves in his wake spreads across me in goosebumps.
“I’ll be gentle this first time,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ve been feeding a long time, little slayer. I know how to control myself.”
My heart is trying to escape my ribcage. My breathing turns slightly frantic. I’ve thought about him feeding on me… Wanting it, if I’m being honest.
But the fear is still there.
What if he hates the way I taste? What if my blood is wrong somehow?
My kind doesn’t let Vampires feed on us. Ever. I was warned that ‘Blood Suckers’ of all kinds are strictly forbidden from feeding on Yldarwrights. No one ever explained why… Is it poisonous?
The bond wouldn’t let him be harmed by it, that I’m certain of.
“Okay,” I whisper, meeting his eyes even though my pulse is a war drum. “I trust you.”
He godsdamn growls. “You may as well of just sucked my cock that was so hot.”
“W-What—” I don’t get to finish the question, because he’s already back at my neck, and then a sharp sting shoots through my entire body.
“Ah! Kayn!”
The pain snaps down my spine and straight into my sciatic.
It hurts—so violently that instinct takes over and I reach for his head, trying to pull him back.
He doesn’t budge. Not an inch. And for one delirious second, I’m convinced people are certifiably insane for wanting this.
For romanticizing this level of suffering.
But then, he draws my blood into his mouth.
I don’t just moan. I scream. Pure, unfiltered euphoria ripping right out of me.
The sound ricochets off the tile and fills the room, echoing back into my own ears.
My entire body ignites, boiling from the inside out, and the second his hand brushes my skin I’m arching into him, desperate and unrestrained.
My leg lifts on instinct, hooking around his hip like my body has already made the decision for me.
I’ve never known true bliss until this moment. I’m lightheaded, and it’s like I’ve just ridden out an orgasm—bright Sprites bursting across my vision. Even the last time I had any stimulation between my thighs that I wanted doesn’t compare to this. Not even close.
“Oh… oh Gods, Kayn.” My voice is thin and strained, and only then do I realize I’m barely breathing.
I’m holding it—chasing that high, that dizzy crest where I know I’m going to come.
The tightness in my stomach coils tighter and tighter as he groans against my skin and draws another pull of my blood into his body.
“Please…” I whimper. “More, more, more.”
I hadn’t even noticed his hands—one gripping my ass, anchoring me to him, the other threaded firmly through my hair at my scalp. My fingers have lost their hold on him entirely; my arms hang loosely around his neck and I trust in him not to let me fall.
I push through the bond, begging him not to stop. Telling him I want him to drain me dry if it will make me feel like this until my heart can’t beat on its own.
But he leans back.
The slide of his fangs withdrawing sends a violent tremor through my entire body, and I cannot believe myself but I’m pretty sure I whine.
I’m too bliss-soaked to know if it was a whine or a moan, but either way, the moment he’s no longer feeding, I’m empty.
When he comes back into view, he’s grinning so beautifully that the blood smeared across his mouth and down his beard only makes him look more devastating.
“I’ll have more of you,” he says, low and sultry, “but slowly. Now, time to feast between your thighs.”
Reality hits me like a physical blow, a hand slapping straight across my face telling me to wake the fuck up.
“Wait.”
He rolls his eyes, and it’s actually cute, but I can’t let that distract me. I open my mouth to explain, but he shoves two fingers between my lips and grips my chin.
“If you’re about to say, ‘I haven’t shaved’ or some dumb shit like that,” he warns, voice a delicious growl, “I’m going to spank you. I truly do not give a fuck, Amarah.”
A pit opens in the center of my chest.
“It’s not that.”
“Gods, this bond is both infuriating and incredible.” He spreads his fingers against my tongue, stretching my lips apart just enough to make my breath hitch. “Let me make you come first, little slayer. Then we’ll take this to the bed where I fully intend to watch you choke on my cock.”
Yup. I definitely whimper this time.
He moves so fast, from withdrawing his fingers to dropping to his knees, that I don’t have the chance to protest. All I can do is hold my breath and brace.
Time stops.
Even the water doesn’t reach my ears. All I hear is my own racing heart.
I’ve never cared what my body looked like in the penitentiary. Never thought anyone I’d want to see me would ever get the chance. The ones who mutilated me—I never wanted to look appealing to them. So once it all healed into scars, I never bothered to care.
But now?
Now, I’m terrified.
I hear him release a slow breath, and then he rises, coming back up in front of me. I’ve seen him angry, but this… this is a silent rage. His eyes are half-lidded, his shoulders rigid. I know it isn’t aimed at me, but instinct has me pressing myself tighter against the wall.
“Who wrote that?”
I shut my eyes and bite down on my bottom lip so hard I immediately taste copper.
His large, warm hand cups my cheek, thumb dragging gently across the bridge of my nose.
“The cook. It’s…” I swallow. “Why I was adamant about him being dead.”
The frustration in his sigh is molten. “He used a razor, didn’t he?”
Just above my pubic bone is a scar carved into me: Witch whore. It wasn’t true, not until they made me what they branded me as.
So that was who I was to them.
A whore.
“Yes. He’d carved over some of the ones on my back, too…” A chill runs across my scalp. It didn’t matter it was a barber’s razor. I see any shaving tool the same.
His deep breath is steady, but I can feel the heat of it as it’s released. “It doesn’t stop there, does it?” He places his hands against my hips, his thumbs brushing down my hipbones. “I’m going to assume the moment I spread your beautiful legs, I’m going to see more.”
My exhale is shaky, and I can feel myself starting to crumble. It’s not even the violence of the memories, it’s the humiliation. The shame. Had I fought for my innocence, maybe they wouldn’t have been able to do those things.
I just… gave up. Let them have me.
“Amarah.” He pulls me flush against him. “I consider myself a dom in the bed. I’m feral for what I want, and I’m not soft.”
I nod. A little too quickly.
I could already tell he was a dom, but it’s strange how his presence—of all people—makes my body instinctively want to submit.
Especially like this.
“For anyone but you,” he continues, a low rumble like a distant storm in his voice, “and Luce. I am going to dominate you. But I’m equally going to take care of you.” His thumb strokes my cheek again. “And, little slayer… I know exactly how to do that. If you’ll let me.”
My chin trembles, and I manage a small smile, before nodding again.
“Thank you.”
A soft gasp escapes me as suddenly, I’m weightless. On instinct, I wrap my arms around his neck as he lifts me. He takes a single step to my right, drops to his knees in the shower, and sets me down on the tiny corner ledge—one barely large enough for my hips to fit.
His hand comes to my jaw, thumb brushing softly before he drags it down the center of my chest. He traces the line from the tip of my tattoo… all the way down to the carved words.