A Fire in the Flesh (Flesh and Fire, #3)

Not…not before. And not now.

Gods, I was so thirsty. Hungry. And restless. My muscles felt unused, as if I’d slept for years, but it hadn’t been years. Days, maybe. Days while I listened to a voice. His voice. The voices of others. My mind was a mess of racing thoughts, explosions of knowledge that kept coming. But I needed to move.

I needed…something.

Sustenance.

I needed to feed.

The throbbing in my jaw increased. I really wanted to open my eyes. Eather pulsed, first in my chest, before flooding my body with sheer will. My lashes fluttered and then lifted. I finally opened my eyes to darkness and the cool press of a body next to mine.

His body.

And it had grown still.

At first, there were just blotches of shadow, but my eyes quickly adjusted. Even with the lack of light, I clearly made out a side table holding a small wooden box. My gaze slowly moved over a wardrobe and a few chests. A table. Two chairs. That felt different, as if it had changed. Confusion and curiosity rose as fragments of memory existed just outside my reach. I spied two closed doors. Everything was spare and darkly colored. It had no life.

Except for the splashes of color strewn about a long couch. Gowns of vibrant blues and red, blouses and vests. That felt new, too. It seemed significant and—

“Sera?” The body beside mine trembled.

My hunger had momentarily gone silent as I took in my surroundings, but now it returned with a vengeance. Muscles tensed. I dragged in a deeper breath, drawing his scent into me.

My arms and legs moved at once, propelling me into a crouched position as my head whipped toward the source of the voice.

“It’s okay,” he repeated softly, carefully.

Through tangled, pale curls, I saw only what was inside him. My head tilted as eather throbbed in my chest and then moved throughout me, recognizing what coursed through his veins. He was chock-full of eather. It filled him. My mouth watered as he sat up more, his chest bare. I sensed what he was.

A Primal.

But his flesh was cold, and the part of me that now felt eons older knew what that signified.

He wasn’t just a Primal.

He was the one I eventually submitted to, no matter how strong I was, how vicious and tenacious I could be. He would always win because he was the end to my beginning. He was a Primal of Death.

Mine.

The word flickered wildly through my mind, and I didn’t understand what it meant. I was too hungry to concentrate, too distracted by the sudden realization that he was one of two.

And I knew there shouldn’t be two Primals of Death. It would upset the balance, and balance must—

“Do you—?” He cut himself off with a curse. His throat worked on a swallow, drawing my attention. He lifted a hand. “Sera—”

A sharp slice of agony lit up my face from my jaw to my temples, forcing out a hiss of pain. I shrank back.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I would never hurt you.”

Despite how weak I was and the threat he posed, I laughed, and the sound was throaty and warm like a summer wind. “Hurt me?” I breathed, tipping forward as I let the essence come to the surface. A silvery aura crept into the sides of my vision. “You may be inevitable, but you cannot stop me.”

His brows furrowed. “I don’t want… Shit.” His expression smoothed out, and I saw a slight twitch to his lips as if he might smile or laugh. I somehow knew I would like that sound. “I thought I was prepared for this. Apparently, I’m not.” He inhaled deeply. “Let me try again. I don’t want to stop you. I don’t even want you to submit to me—not now or ever.”

My heart started thumping heavily as I stared at the male. His words confused me because I had to give in to him, but they also made sense because I didn’t.

“Unless it’s one of those times you want to submit.” One side of his lips curled, and his scent increased with…arousal. “Then I am more than happy to oblige.”

He wasn’t speaking about the natural order of things. He was talking about…

An image rose of being pressed onto my chest as a large body held me down, moving behind me, inside me. My skin flamed even hotter, stoking the gnawing, aching hunger.

“You definitely remember that,” he said, his voice as thick as my blood. “That’s good.” Hair fell against his cheeks as his chin dipped. He wiggled his fingers. “I know what you need, Sera. Me. My blood. You need to feed.”

I eyed his hand as the agonizing hunger expanded.

“I am yours.”

Mine.

My lips parted, and my heart thundered. There was some sense—a knowledge the other voices had shared with me… “The Primal of Life has not fed from a Primal of Death before,” I said, fingers curling into fur—a blanket. “We…we are meant to be two halves of a cycle but separate.”

His exhale was rough. “But we are different, Sera. Those beliefs don’t apply to us.” He leaned toward me, hand still raised. His scent increased until I could taste it on my tongue. Citrusy. Fresh. “I am yours. All of me. My body. My blood. My soul.” His voice roughened. “My heart.”

Mine.

My gaze dropped to his hand. There was something on his palm. A golden, shimmery swirl. The sight of it caused my heart to skip. Slowly, I lifted my hand and placed it in his. The contact was jarring, and a rush of energy and memories came on too fast for me to make sense of it, but I saw the top of my hand. I saw the bright, golden swirl that matched the hand beneath mine.

“That’s it.” He lowered his voice. “Come to me.”

I watched his fingers close around mine. I lifted my gaze. He tilted his head back, exposing his throat.

My hand tightened around his. I saw his eyes close. Then I shot toward him, climbing onto his lap. He didn’t react, just held himself still, vulnerable despite how much bigger he was. I clasped his shoulders as my lips peeled back. The throbbing in my jaw increased.

“Feed,” he ordered.

Guided by instinct, my head snapped toward his neck. I struck, sinking my fangs into the vein in his throat.

The first drop of his blood against my tongue was an awakening.

My back arched, the shock of his taste and the strength of his essence flooding me. It was all I could think about as he cursed. It was everything. Mouth tingling, I drew hungrily, pulling the smoky yet sweet flavor into me. His blood hit the back of my throat, sparking a riot of intense sensations. His blood tasted good. He felt good against me, his coolness against my heat. But he…