Chapter 30

Julian

Drink your bag. Step away from the witch.

The voice in my head was giving me all kinds of commands, but I seemed unable to obey any of them.

Shea smelled so good. My fangs, lips, and tongue ached to taste her. And she looked so beautiful, so incredibly tempting, as I loomed over her. She peered up at me with those bright green eyes I'd know anywhere, the cocktail of fear and desire I could smell radiating from her only intensifying their vivid color.

I gripped the cold blood bag tighter in my fist, my body's attempt to remind my conscious mind that I had another source right here at my disposal. But how could that cold, sterile liquid possibly compare to the warm, pulsing whoosh of the veins throbbing in her neck? That would be like choosing to eat dry crackers when a freshly cooked steak was steaming right in front of you.

I swallowed, fighting this craving with every ounce of self-control I could muster. "Shea, you should leave."

She pursed her lips, batting her lashes as she took a shaky breath. "I know."

But she didn't move. She just kept staring up into my eyes like she was just as hungry for me as I was for her.

She exhaled, and fuck, the smell of her assaulted my senses, making me groan, and I squeezed the bag in my hand so forcefully that it popped like a balloon, erupting in cold blood that dripped from my fingertips. But I couldn't look away from this beguiling creature, especially not for something as tedious as cleaning up the mess.

So I dropped the bag, bringing my fingers to my lips and sucking the thick liquid off them.

"Julian," she whimpered longingly, for once not gagging at the sight of my singular dietary need.

My name on her lips was like the sweetest invitation to my blind thirst, and I could no longer hold back. I swooped down on her, lifting her off her feet and pushing her up against the ruined curtains with inhuman speed. But it wasn't her neck my lips went for.

Her lips parted at my furious onslaught, letting me invade her saccharine mouth with my hungry tongue. And she met my attack with just as much desperation, her fragile arms draping over my shoulders and her hands clutching at my back.

My hips dug between her thighs, grinding my desire into the heat I could feel at her center. She groaned into my devouring kisses, the sound reverberating through my throbbing fangs and spiking my thirst ever higher.

Driven by the hunt like a feral animal, I kissed and licked across her cheek and down her neck, and she tilted her head to the side to give me better access. That same voice, a dull and distant whisper now, pleaded with me to stop, to not proceed any further. But my primal urges told me that her invitation was for more than kisses, and my thirst and desire were in full control of my being.

I opened my mouth wide over her neck and slowly sank my teeth into her supple flesh.

She let out a sharp gasp of pain, but the way her legs tightened and pressed around my hips told me she didn't object. And when the hot ambrosia of her blood hit my tongue, I was beyond caring whether she wanted this or not.

I took slow, long sucks of her essence, savoring every drop before allowing myself to swallow. I ground my hard dick harder into her center, my hips taking on a thrusting rhythm with a mind of their own.

She moaned in time with my thrust, her head thrown back and her clawed fingers scraping at my back for support. The smell of her building pleasure was utterly intoxicating, forcing my eyes to roll back up into my head as I dry fucked her harder and harder.

Her moans grew louder and higher pitched, and every inch of my skin could feel her getting closer. I was a slave to her pleasure, pausing my sucking entirely to drive into her with the pressure I instinctively knew she needed.

She came with a sharp cry, her small body tensing and trembling all around me. I held her close, maintaining the rhythm of my hips until her limbs went limp around me.

"Julian, stop now," pleaded an all too familiar voice through my hunt-frenzied mind.

Her voice spoke to my very soul, clearing the fog of thirst and lust just enough for me to heed its warning. It took every minuscule ounce of willpower I had in me, but with the deepest and most crippling reluctance, I withdrew my teeth from Shea's creamy flesh.

The angry punctures my fangs had left behind continued to drip, so I bit my tongue, forcing my own blood to spill, and then lapped at her neck one final time. The healing enzymes in my blood went to work immediately, closing her wounds before my heady gaze and returning her flesh to unmarred—if not blood stained—perfection.

Painstakingly slowly, I lowered her down the window curtain, her eyes glued to mine with the purest vulnerability as her feet touched the floor. I looked back down at her with a storm of emotions no doubt raging in my own eyes, a confused bedlam of lingering thirst and want clashing with guilt and shame.

"Wow, that was…" she murmured, her lower lip trembling.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean—I shouldn't have—"

I couldn't finish a single thought. Because even though I hadn't meant for this to happen, and I shouldn't have let myself succumb to this wild temptation, I still wanted to do that and so much more. And though my thirst was no longer as destitute as it had been when I arrived, if she didn't leave, I knew I'd succumb again. And there'd be no stopping myself then.

"You really should go," I said, imploring her with my eyes to be merciful and obey.

She nodded, taking a slow, deep breath as she pushed away from me. "Yeah, I should, um…yeah."

Casting her gaze to the floor and letting her hair fall over her shoulders to shield her face from view, she went to the kitchen and gathered her things, then headed out the door without another word.

It was only when her presence was finally gone that the impact of what I'd just done came crashing down on me. Not only had I betrayed my vow of loyalty to Alice, I had fed directly from a human!

And the worst part was, I knew deep down that I wanted to do both of those things again .