15/03/2026 22:17

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I drew back just enough to see his face clearly. The moment he'd tasted my blood he had been bound in a way that had nothing to do with sex, or love, or friendship. I didn't blush, because I was working too hard at keeping control of my face and eyes. He let go of his hair, and the wind whipped it around his face, but he ignored it now.

I started to reach for him, but Damian chose that moment to brush the head of his own ripeness against the back of my body. His hand so large, firm, an anchor in the nightmare of the light. Don't stop, I said. He screamed, screamed with a mouth that poured blood, screamed with a throat that was pierced in a half-dozen places.