Crimson Truth (Onyx Assassins 4)

“Fuck,” I hissed. She really didn’t get it. “No, that’s not the reason—”

“Then tell me why I can’t be in your bedroom, when you’ve been in mine dozens of times—”

“Because I’ll feed from you!” I shouted.

Her jaw dropped and the room fell silent, but the charge between us only intensified.

Damn it. She was the reason I couldn’t feed, couldn’t think. There was no use hiding from the truth when it stared me right in the face like this.

Jocelyn tilted her head, took three measured steps into my room, and flicked the door shut with a flex of her fingers. “So feed.”

Yes. Yes. Yes.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for.” My cock did, though. I was harder than the stone of the walls surrounding us. “Go, Jocelyn.”

“Feed,” she repeated. “You let me when I wanted to.” She drew her hair back and pulled it over one shoulder, locking her eyes with mine.

“It is not the same,” I ground out, frozen in the middle of my chamber. One step and I’d be on her—in her.

“I think the terms are pretty equal.” She took another step.

“No. You don’t understand. I don’t want to feed from you.” She winced, and I cursed.

“Okay, you’ve made your point.” Her voice broke slightly on that last word and the sound crumbled what was left of my control, my decency.

In a flash, I had her against the wall opposite my bed, my hips pinning her to the drywall, my hands braced on either side of her head. “I don’t want to feed from you, little witch. I need to feed from you. There is a fucking difference.”

Her breath caught, and where there should have been fear—would have been fear in any other female regardless of species—there were only swirls of stars and answering need in her eyes.

“You think I don’t want you,” I whispered, rolling my hips into hers so she could feel just how wrong that assumption was.

She swallowed a moan, and tilted her chin. “I’m not exactly your type, and you’ve been really damned good at keeping your professional distance the last couple of days.”

“Let’s clear that up.” One of my hands coasted down the line of her neck, her shoulder, the dip of her waist, and finally settled on the glorious curve of her ass. “I keep my distance because I want you, Jocelyn. I wake up wanting you. I fall asleep needing you. I can’t feed, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think about anything else but sinking my fangs and my cock into that sweet little body of yours. That’s how badly I want you. You walk into a room and I’m ready to bare fangs at anyone who even looks at you. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is for us?”

“You can’t feed?” Her gaze dropped to my lips, her brow furrowing with concern.

I shook my head, pushing away the intrusive, insistent thought that had been nipping at my heels since dinner the other night. It’s not possible. Shut the fuck up.

“Because of me?” she whispered, then ghosted her tongue over her lower lip.

I nodded.

“Then take whatever you need.” She leaned her head back against the wall, exposing her throat.

A groan escaped my lips and my grip tightened on her ass. Thank God she was wearing pants. It was one more layer between us.

“It’s forbidden,” I growled, losing the battle with my body and lowering my head to her neck.

“It’s not,” she whispered. “I’m the heir to the covens. You don’t think I’ve read the Covenant a few times? Relationships are banned, not feeding.” Her breath hitched as I drew a fang over the soft skin protecting her vein.

Relationships were banned because feeding went hand in hand to vampires.

“Jocelyn.” I breathed her in and she buried her fingers in my hair. “You have to run. I’ll drain you dry.”

“You won’t.” She said it with so much certainty that I almost believed her. “And don’t start on me with that old wives’ tale about witches' blood being irresistible, because it’s not true. You’ve resisted enough for both of us.”

It was true, but my mouth wouldn’t form the words. It was too busy fighting to keep my fangs out of her throat.

“I want this.” Her lips grazed my forehead. “I want you, and I hardly think that giving ourselves one night would constitute a relationship.”

“I’m starving,” I admitted, hunger gnawing at every cell in my body. “I could lose control.”

“But you won’t.” She pressed her throat against my mouth in a gesture of ultimate trust. “You never lose control. You won’t hurt me.”

Get a fucking grip, or you’re not worthy of her. My chest tightened, and I somehow found the strength to lift my lips from her throat and pull back enough to look in her eyes. As if making the decision had appeased the predator inside me to some degree, I regained just enough control to put precious inches between my teeth and her neck.