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Closing my mouth over the wound, I drew on his bite as my eyes drifted shut. The first taste of him was a shock to my senses. A jolt to my entire body that would likely never dull, no matter how many times I tasted him.
A tingling sensation swept over my tongue and the insides of my mouth, then moved to my throat as I swallowed. It struck me as odd that his blood could be so warm, yet his skin so cold, but the memories of how he’d tasted hadn’t done him any justice. Sweet and smoky honey. Luscious. Captivating. I swallowed, more and more, marveling at the heady warmth coursing into my chest and stomach, easing the aches along the way.
“Just a bit more,” Nyktos said, his voice lower, thicker.
I drank deeper, only vaguely aware that I was holding his arm and that my fingers were curling tightly around his. I thought that I probably shouldn’t do that now, but that thought was just a flicker. An inconvenience. The hum of his blood coasted over that hollow part of me, snuffing out the pain in my ribs and my stomach, taking with it a deeper, more entrenched hurt that went beyond the physical.
Then I found it.
Felt it.
Peace.
It was like slipping beneath still waters, surrounded by silence and peace. But in that cool darkness were colors. They came alive with a spark of silver and black, and like the images that had formed in the Pools of Divanash, one rose in my mind. It was me. I was standing in the courtyard of the House of Haides in a black gown with the gray, star-swept sky behind me. Cheeks flushed and eyes a feverish wild green, I held a short sword, the shadowstone blade glittering as a pale, silver curl danced across my cheek, touching the corner of my lip as I gri
This was a memory of me, but not my memory.
“I think that’s enough,” Nyktos grunted, shattering the memory as he gently pried his wrist from my grip.
My eyes fluttered open as my hands fell to my lap. Beside me, Nyktos sat, one leg bent as he lifted his wrist to his mouth, sealing the wound he’d created. There were no shadows beneath his flesh now, but his skin was even thi
“How are you feeling?” Nyktos asked.
I took stock of myself, somewhat dazed. “Better,” I exhaled, long and slow without even a hint of pain. Considering what I could do with my hands, the healing ability of a Primal’s blood shouldn’t shock me, but it did. “Thank you.”
Nyktos nodded, and his lashes swept down, hiding his eyes as he started to rise. “I’ll await you in my chambers—”
“Wait,” I stopped him. His jaw flexed. “I saw myself standing in the courtyard when I held the sword to your throat,” I told him, my skin begi
“You weren’t thinking of that day,” he said gruffly. “I was.”
“But how…?”
“That can happen when a god or a Primal feeds from another. They can sense—or see—what the other is thinking. Or find a memory. Some are skilled at dragging older memories out while they feed.”
“Like Taric,” I murmured. “But it didn’t hurt you, right?”
Nyktos shook his head. “You weren’t able to do it the last time you fed, but you’re even closer to Ascension now.”
“That’s not good.”
“No.” Nyktos’s lashes lifted then. “We need to get the embers out of you.”
Dread began to build but then quickly evaporated. There was no warning before the pleasant warmth in my blood and muscles turned to molten heat. Even though I knew what his blood would do, the sharp and swift arousal was still brutal, stealing the breath I took. My fingers curled into the soft cloth of my robe as an ache blossomed, throbbed.
Oh, gods, I was hot. Too hot. My fingers went to the row of buttons on the robe, hastily undoing them. The material fell to the sides, and blissful cool air slipped over the gauzy nightgown and my heated flesh.
The reprieve lasted only a few seconds—if that.
My heart began to pound. I shuddered, gritting my teeth, but there was no stopping the intense wave of tingling sensation sweeping over me, or the gasp I let out at the slippery heat suddenly invading every part of my being and senses. A heaviness followed, settling in my breasts and then my core. My nipples grew tight, hardening.
I wanted.
It didn’t matter how much I told myself I shouldn’t.
I needed.
And, gods, I welcomed the feeling because it left no room for the dread, uncertainty, or the ugliness of the day.
“I should leave,” Nyktos ground out, his voice sounding like smoke and gravel.
I looked at him and realized I shouldn’t have done that either.
He shifted back from me, just enough that I saw the thick ridge of his cock straining against his leathers. I nearly moaned at his visceral reaction to my lust—to me. Gods. I pressed my thighs together, but I was empty, and it was all too easy to recall the feel of him inside me, stretching me—
I moved without thinking, grasping Nyktos’s arm. The charge of energy, and the feel of his flesh under my hand sparked another rush of damp, hot desire.
“Sera,” he hissed.
Pulse pounding, I lifted my gaze to his. His eyes were quicksilver, heated and whirling with so much power, so much need. My nails pressed into his skin.
Stay.
I didn’t speak the word. I thought it. I prayed it, even though I knew I could bring an end to my torment. Give myself pleasure. But I wanted it. I wanted him despite the dangers of what that desire led to. In spite of what I’d seen with him and Veses and still didn’t understand.
Stark lust carved into his features, hollowing his cheeks as he stared at me. “You know what will happen if I don’t leave,” he growled. Warned. “No matter how much you hate me now, you will hate yourself more later.”
“I don’t hate you,” I whispered.
“My blood is making you think you don’t.”
He was wrong. I wished he was right. Everything would be so much easier if I did, but I didn’t. “I think I proved earlier today that I don’t hate you.”
His arm trembled in my grip. “You should.”
“I should.” I ran my tongue across my teeth. “You could leave if you wanted to.”
His eyes darted to mine. “I know.”
“But you haven’t.”
Tension bracketed his mouth as his gaze dropped to my chest. The tips of my breasts were clearly visible beneath the nightgown. A predatory gleam pinched his lips and filled his eyes as he watched me shrug off the robe.
“Sera,” he rasped, his lips parting and gaze sweeping down the translucent nightgown to the throbbing space between my thighs. “I don’t know if I love these things you swear are gowns or fucking hate them.”
My entire chest rose and fell sharply as our gazes locked. A second passed. Another.
“But there are a hundred reasons why one of us needs to leave,” he said, his breath matching mine. “And only one reason neither of us is.”
“Want.”
He gave me a curt shake of his head. “Need.”
Then I was in his arms.
I didn’t know who moved. Wasn’t sure if it was me who climbed into his embrace, him who’d grasped my arms, or if we’d both moved at once.
But it didn’t matter.
His mouth was on mine, his kiss wild and desperate. Starved. I could feel his cool flesh beneath his torn tunic, soothing my overly sensitive skin and then igniting another maddening rush of desire. Both of our hands went to his pants. My fingers curled around his thickness, stroking him through the soft cloth. He tore at the buttons, and raw lust scorched the breath I took as he freed himself.
Nothing mattered then. Not Veses. Not the hurt. The pain. The ugliness. Not how close Reaver had come to death. Not what saving him would do, or how close I was to the Ascension. I didn’t think about anything as Nyktos’s hands went to my hips to steady me. He consumed my thoughts and my body. This did. Us. I gasped when I felt the broad head of his cock, easing through my wetness and pressing into me. I clutched his shoulders. Nyktos trembled, holding himself still as I lowered myself, moaning against his lips between kisses. The pressure, the burn was exquisite. His fingers pressed into the flesh of my hips as I took him, inch by decadent inch, to the hilt. I panted as I held myself still.