“Feed from me then.”
I blinked at him. It was all I could do to keep my fangs from sliding out. The thought of biting Peter was like every fantasy I’d ever had rolled into one.
“P-pardon?” I stammered.
“You can feed from me this one time. It’ll tide you over until you can find a new donor.”
He said it like it was as simple as sharing a meal with me. He had no idea how complicated giving blood was, how emotions and desire could get all tangled up in it. I shook my head, pulse pounding, my eyes instinctively going to the thick vein in his neck. “I can’t. There are rules.”
Peter’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and I wondered if he wanted it just as much as I did. “I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”
I stared into his eyes and saw how large his pupils had grown. There was nothing I wanted more than to taste his blood. I was light-headed just thinking about it. Light-headed and turned on and ravenously hungry. I licked my lips, and his eyes lowered to my mouth.
“Where would we even do it?” I asked, almost drunk on the idea.
“There’s no one here right now,” he said.
“We can’t do it here. Anyone could walk out.”
“Then I’ll take us somewhere more private.”
Say no, Darya. It will only overcomplicate things.
“Okay,” I breathed, ignoring the voice of reason in my head. Just like that, I was swept away into a cloud of mist. Peter’s teleportation magic had a distinct smell, like the smoke from a fire in the woods that a heavy downpour had just put out. I was standing in the reading nook at the library in St. Bastian’s a moment later. There was no storm tonight, no sounds of rain bashing against glass. Only peaceful silence. The remote location of the school meant there was little light pollution, and when you peered out the window, a galaxy of stars looked back.
I was distracted by the view when a hand came around my waist, pulling me back into a firm body. Peter swept my hair to one side of my neck and bent down to whisper in my ear, “I can’t stop thinking about that dream.”
“I’m not entirely sure it was a dream,” I said, trembling when his nose touched my ear.
“Fuck,” he rasped, his hand spread out across my stomach. “I’m not sure it was a dream either.”
I closed my eyes, savouring his touch.
“How are we going to do this?” The rumble of his voice activated all my pleasure centres. I turned in his arms, opening my eyes as I placed both my hands on his chest. Not dropping his gaze, I pushed him gently until the backs of his knees met the cushioned bench. I motioned for him to sit. He did, and my breath caught when he gazed up at me with hooded eyes.
Never in my life had I been so eager to drink someone’s blood.
My nipples tightened as I climbed astride him. Peter’s hands went instinctively to my hips, a low rumble in his throat as he ran them up to my ribs. My short dress was hitched even higher, but thankfully, it was still covering my underwear. Peter fell back and closed his eyes, tilting his neck slightly to the side as though offering himself to me. It was all I could do not to claim him right there and then.
Sometimes it felt like Peter was beautiful in a way only I could see. Others might view him as this shaggy-haired, silent boy with a slightly crooked nose who hadn’t yet fully grown into himself. But not to me. To me, he was perfect.
I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his bared neck, his pulse fluttering against my lips. It was at that exact moment that I felt him harden against me. “Darya, I—"
“Hush, it’s fine,” I murmured, inhaling deeply. My fangs extended, and Peter opened his eyes. He stared at my fangs with a mixture of arousal and fascination. There was also a tiny edge of fear. I felt powerful at that moment, in control, and the predator that lived deep in my blood adored having Peter Girard beneath me, offering himself up.
Normally, I didn’t prolong this part. I got the feeding over and done with as quickly as possible. But with Peter, I wanted to slow everything down, experience every second. I scraped the tips of my fangs along his neck, a feeling of triumph running through me when he shuddered. His hands gripped tightly to my hips, eyes searching mine when I pulled back my head.
My hunger reached a peak, and if I didn’t feed now, I feared I might lose control entirely. I inhaled one final sharp breath. I knew this was a one-off, and that made everything so much more heightened. After that night, I’d never again taste the blood of the person I desired the most. I needed to make this moment count.