“Relax,” he said. “It’s for me. Lie back down.”
Alley was right, she thought. This is a terrible idea.
But she didn’t leave. She needed Costin’s help. Vampire blood was the only way to achieve sobriety, even if it upset the Wintu spirits. She took a deep breath and melted back onto the pillows.
Westie felt something stir deep within her belly when Costin removed his shirt, revealing a smooth white chest. He was lean and solid-looking, with cords of muscle beneath his skin.
The mattress dipped when he climbed onto the bed and settled beside her, propped on an elbow. Her heart pulsed in her ears, and the stirring in her belly became more insistent.
He’s a creature, she had to remind herself. But what she told herself and what her body was feeling were two very different things.
Costin held the blade in his hand. When he moved, she noticed three perfectly spaced scars on his upper arm that looked almost like brands.
“What are those from?” she asked. Vampires healed so quickly, she didn’t think they were capable of having scars.
“General marks from the war.”
She felt him shiver as she traced her finger over the bumps. “You were a general in the creature war? For how long?”
“Five years.”
“I was just a child back then,” she said. The war had ended while she was staying with the Wintu.
Costin put a finger to her lips. “No more talk of the war. Shall we get on with this?”
Westie gathered her wits and nodded.
He smiled, slicing the skin of his wrist open. She’d never seen anyone so happy to bleed. Red satin beads bubbled slowly out of the wound. His blood didn’t have a metallic, tangy scent like the human blood she’d smelled while assisting in Nigel’s surgical rooms. Vampire blood was different. It smelled sweet and buttery.
Westie pulled long, slow breaths into her lungs. “I’m going to do this,” she said, “but I don’t want any funny business. You keep your hands to yourself.” If things got carried away, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able—or willing—to stop.
“I promise. Now drink.” His voice was like a soft kiss.
Costin held his wrist out to her. Cold, velvet orbs dripped onto the bare skin of her collarbone.
All it took was five drops for a cure. One drink, she told herself.
She took one last breath, held it, and braced herself as she put her lips around his wound.
A cold drop trickled down her throat. His blood was thick and sweet like honey, just the way it smelled. As soon as it hit her stomach she felt serene. Not exactly like the tranquil daze that overcame her when drinking whiskey, but something deeper. It was the same kind of lovely ache one felt in one’s soul when hearing a beautiful song.
Soon Westie’s tentative licks became greedy slurps. She knew she’d consumed more than the five drops necessary for a cure, but it was difficult to care about that when feeling the rush it gave her. She wrapped her legs around Costin’s waist to keep him from pulling away.
Costin let out a moan as she sucked at his vein. The taste was pleasant enough, but it was the feelings being dealt to her body that kept her mouth clamped to Costin’s skin like a deer tick. It was like waking up, like seeing everything beautiful in the world for the first time, and all at once. The blood was cold going down her throat, but it warmed every part of her until she was a puddle in his arms.
She felt her bodice give and his cool lips touch her chest. When Costin started to kiss her neck, she reluctantly pulled away from his wrist and grabbed him by the throat with her machine. The amount of pressure she used would’ve killed a human but only made Costin wince.
“I said no funny business.” While her mechanical hand squeezed his neck, her flesh hand caressed his cheek. Though she still had some of her wits, it was a losing battle. There was no telling how long she could keep resisting him. If she were to take a guess, she was at the end of the countdown.
He choked out a laugh, barely able to get words through her stranglehold. “You said to keep my hands to myself. You didn’t say anything about my lips.”
Her body quivered, knees shaking. When he offered his wrist to her once more, her breaths became urgent. “Just . . . behave.”
By the sound of his laughter, he knew the effect he was having on her. She let go of his neck and grabbed his wrist again, latching on.
She was enveloped, too submerged in bliss to notice his dark eyes drinking in her curves, her ripe, warm skin. His mouth parted, and a carnal growl escaped from deep in his chest.