Bite Marks (The Lycans 5)

I shivered in pleasure at that thought, at the image of doing what he said when he said it. I’m so fucked in the head.

“I had the staff prepare some meals before I sent them away. While you were sleeping in the study, I heated one of them up. I’d like you to eat and drink.”

There was a hard edge to his voice, like a parent making it known to a child this was what would happen—no ifs, ands, or buts. There was no leeway in his words, no room for argument. But I wouldn’t have the strength to fight him on this anyway. I was thirsty, and hungry.

Again I wondered what time it was, if the sun was out or if I’d hardly slept—again—and it was still dark. But I didn’t care enough to ask. I didn’t care enough about much of anything except this moment in time and getting answers to the questions burning inside me.

So I moved to the spot beside the head of the table, took my seat, and felt him looming behind me, his hands on the back of the chair as he pushed it in, his body a heady presence as he leaned down, reached for the linen napkin in front of me, and placed it over my lap.

I felt his lips at my temple, heard him inhale deeply, and forced myself not to let my eyes flutter closed, not to let that feeling of pure pleasure wash away all my common sense right now.

With a low rumble, he pulled away and took his seat, and I allowed myself to breathe deeply. I glanced at him, watching as he poured a generous helping of bourbon into a square glass. He then reached for the bottle of wine and poured me a modest amount.

“It’s almost breakfast time.”

“Not when you’re a vampire, princess.”

Adryan pushed a glass of water toward me, and despite his caveman attitude and the independent side of me wanting to take that glass and pour the water right over his egotistical head because I was a grown-ass woman and could do shit myself, I was thirsty as hell and too tired to fight.

And besides… drinking when the sun was about to rise seemed like the least of my worries.

I grabbed the glass and downed it quickly, so quickly that droplets of water dribbled out the corner of my mouth and down my chin. I set my glass down and was about to wipe them away, when—quicker than I could anticipate—Adryan’s arm shot out, his fingers curling around my wrist, stopping me from moving.

My eyes widened in shock as I stared at him, unable to move, unsure what he was doing. This low sound left him, a deep noise from within his chest as he leaned in and—further shocking me—dragged his tongue from the edge of my jaw all the way to the corner of my mouth, lapping up those droplets of water.

I felt the smooth swipe of his thumb across the pulse point at my wrist, and then just as quickly, he was settled back in his seat, his glass of bourbon to his lips, his gaze focused on me over the rim as if that hadn’t just happened.

I swallowed thickly, adrenaline pumping through me at that very sexually laced experience. I didn’t know what to say, if I should even say anything at all.

I swallowed again and focused on the plate before me. Everything smelled delicious, looked professionally made, artistically displayed. Then again, in a home as lavish as the one I was currently in, I wasn’t expecting bags of fast food for a meal.

My thoughts went to the man beside me, as I was finding my mind constantly drawn to him. With my thirst taken care of, my focus replayed what and who he really was.

A vampire. A species in the Otherworld.

I lifted my hand and gently touched my throat, at that little hollow at the base. I wondered if the satisfying sensation of drinking a glassful of cold water, that nonsexual pleasure you felt with no longer being thirsty, was how he felt when he drank… blood—

“Yes,” he said low in that grumbly voice of his that turned my insides out, drawing me from of my thoughts.

I snapped my focus to him, not realizing I’d been staring at his throat. His eyes were these inky pools that drew me in, bottomless like space or the ocean, or a vat full of spilled ink.

“W-What?”

He smirked, a little tilt of his lips that told me he found my question humorous, because he and I both knew I was very aware of what he meant.

“You just finished your water and got this faraway look in your eyes. You were deep in thought as you touched your throat, as your focus went to my neck.” He brought his glass to his mouth and drank half the bourbon in one swallow. “You were wondering if that undeniable thirst, the kind that claws at your throat, that unbearable need clenching your belly for some relief, is what I feel when I need blood.”