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

His body was rigid against mine. “Release…release your fangs.”

The order filtered through the hunger. I…I was hurting him. I didn’t want that. We were the cycle. I was the beginning. He was the end. But we were more than that. He was mine. I pulled my fangs from his flesh but kept my mouth latched there. He jerked, his chest rising sharply as I took him into me. A deep moan teased my ears. He liked this now. Enjoyed it. I drank deeper, his blood coursing down my throat, soothing the burn there until it hit my hollow chest, easing the gnawing ache. But it wasn’t his blood. It was the eather in him, pooling at the center of my chest, restoring my strength.

He was a Primal of Death, but his blood…his blood was life.

The Primal shifted beneath me. His arm folded over my hips, and his hand landed on my lower back. I tensed.

“Keep drinking,” he instructed, his palm flattening against my skin. “You haven’t taken enough.”

I purred my gratitude. His hips jerked at the sound, and I felt the thick hardness pressing against me. A shiver danced through me, tight and hot. The uncomfortable heat eased, replaced by a languid warmth that spread as his hand swept up the length of my back to disappear under my hair before gliding back down. His fingers brushed the curve of my rear, making that warmth grow into a fire that didn’t hurt but enflamed.

I fed at his throat, his blood filling me as he ran his hand up and down my spine. Slowly—or maybe quickly—each sweep of his hand stroked a different kind of urgency into being.

I wanted more.

Needed more of him.

I leaned forward, pressing against him. The contact of his chilled skin against mine turned the blood I drank into liquid want. My nipples hardened as I writhed restlessly against him, and they dragged against the smooth, cool surface of his chest. A heady ache settled in my breasts. His blood. His body…gods. I tingled, becoming acutely sensitive.

My fingers splayed across his shoulders as I tilted my hips forward, finding what I sought, what I needed. He moaned as I rubbed against the hard length of his cock. There was a barrier between us, Thin, soft linen. I growled my frustration.

His arm tightened around my lower back. “Fucking Fates,” he groaned as I ground down.

The sound and feel of him against me was like falling into a whirlwind of sensations. Muscles low in my belly tightened as tiny darts of pleasure spread through me. I whimpered, wanting more, needing more.

His hand stilled on the center of my back. “Sera…”

Mouth latched to his throat, I moaned as I rocked against him. I wanted so much. Him. His blood. His cock.

“I know. I know what you need. Let me give it to you.” His arm shifted, and he lifted me. I strained against his absence. “Trust me.”

I trusted him. Irrevocably.

I stopped fighting and let him lift me from his lap.

“Keep drinking,” he ordered roughly as he reached between us, shoving his pants down as he held me with just one arm. His strength…it was unbelievable. Intoxicating. “Take what you need.”

Obeying, I took and took, my mouth moving greedily over his throat as I felt him cold and heavy against my heat. A wild pulse of lust lit me up. His hand returned to my hip, steadying my frantic attempts to feel him where I needed him. He guided me down, and we both groaned when I felt the cool head of his cock pressing into me.

I shuddered. That…that was what I wanted. Needed. I pushed down, moaning as I began taking him inside me. It wasn’t fast or deep enough.

He sensed that, driving his hips up, stretching and filling me in one thrust. He was such an enormous presence in my body. His throat muffled my cry of pleasure as I shook. The arm at my waist lifted me and then brought me back down, causing my toes to curl as I continued drinking deeply. Ripples of pleasure washed over me in waves with each lift and fall. I was humming now, the heat spreading, his body cooling even further. I could drink all of him. Take everything of him into me.

And he’d let me.

He’d give anything for me, even himself. Instinctively, I knew I couldn’t kill him like this, but I could weaken him, bring him to a point where his body would need to go into stasis.

I didn’t want that.

He moved under me, the pace of his rising hips feverish and overwhelming, making it difficult to think about anything but satisfying the dual, brutal needs.

But he was too important, and I would hurt him. I couldn’t do that. Because he was…he was my other half.

Body trembling, I slowed my feeding. The red haze of bloodlust dissipated, allowing my other thoughts to clear. It wasn’t just Primal blood I was feeding on. It wasn’t only a body giving me pleasure. It was his.

Ash.

My lover.

My King of Gods.

My husband, whom I was deeply in love with.

A sense of self returned to me. My name: Seraphena. Who I once was and was now. Who I was meant to become. The new sense of awareness was like a lock being turned. Memories didn’t come rushing back, they just returned to me, taking their rightful places.

A tremor ran through me.

Ash…he had saved me.

I didn’t know how. Holland had said the only way I could be saved was through love. And that was impossible, wasn’t it?

“I love you, even if I cannot,” Ash had screamed. “I’m in love with you.”

Gods, he’d wanted so badly to love me. Had he made some sort of deal? Had the Arae intervened? I didn’t know as I forced my jaw to relax. I lifted my mouth from the bite. Compelled by either the newly formed instinct or memories of Ash doing it, I nicked my lower lip. The sting of pain was barely noticeable amidst the coiling tension. Blood drawn, I kissed the wound I’d made, stopping the bleeding.

“Liessa,” Ash whispered.

Something beautiful.

Something powerful.

I brought my mouth to his and kissed him, knowing he likely tasted both his blood and mine on my lips. Angling my hips, I planted my hands on his chest and pushed him onto his back. It hadn’t required much strength. Just a slight pressure, and he obeyed, both hands falling to my hips. He clasped them. If he wanted to fight, we’d be equally matched, and I had no idea who would win.

I couldn’t wait to find out, though.

But it would have to wait.

Opening my eyes, I looked down at him and felt my chest loosen and tighten all at once. Everything about him was so much clearer, sharper now. The faint scar on his chin. The shape of his lips and their defined cupid’s bow. There was another scar on the bridge of his nose that I’d never seen before. I’d always thought his lashes were impossibly thick, but now I saw just how dense they were. And his eyes? The aura of eather behind his pupils was like stars, and the wisps churning in his irises a constellation. It was like seeing him for the first time. There was so much I wanted to say—so much I knew I needed to tell him—but the powerful muscles in his chest and shoulders flexed and rolled as his grip on my hips urged me to take what I wanted.