7. Livana

Chapter 7

Livana

J agger's words clang through me, my hunger awakening at his bold claim.

"What?" It's the only word I can work past the ache in my throat.

Goddess, I'm thirsty.

Jagger's thumb grazes the underside of my wrist, causing heat to streak through my veins at the move. "You heard me."

I did.

I heard him loud and as clear as I can hear his heart beating in his chest. As clear as I can taste his pulsing desire, all autumn spices dancing along each of my nerve endings. He wants me. He wants me so badly.

And I can't deny how much I want him in return. But…

"That's not a good idea," I say, tugging my wrist free and backing up a few paces so I can breathe.

Sirius's rentable suites are almost as ornately decorated as his private chambers—all filled with lush furniture—including a four-poster bed tucked against a wall decorated with rich velvet curtains of maroon and royal blue. Art adorns the walls gilded in decorative frames, this room displaying a floral theme, the main centerpiece being a painting of the petals of flame—an indigo flower that glows bright blue under the moonlight.

I note this as I look for an exit, but there's only the door Jagger stands in front of.

"Why is it a bad idea?" Jagger asks, making no move to pursue me further save for the longing in his eyes. He carefully removes the guitar from his back, settling it in the corner of the room.

I open and close my mouth a few times. There are so many reasons. Logical reasons that are hard to think of around the intensity of my anger. It's like Sirius's magic has propelled the need flaring in my veins.

Feed, feed, feed.

And feed off someone powerful. A half-siren drifter is most certainly powerful.

I blink once, twice, trying to force the idea from my mind.

"Zev wouldn't like it," I say, a pathetic excuse that Jagger laughs at.

"You would be surprised at what Zev does and doesn't like, dove. And since when do you care?"

Good point.

"You can't Link with me," I force out the words.

"I said I wanted to feed you," he says, not entirely an answer to my demand. "Not Link with you. But I'm flattered you think I might fuck you three times while we're in here." He takes one step closer.

I don't retreat.

Can't.

He smells mouthwateringly good, like ginger and cinnamon dancing on my tongue. It's a comforting, exciting flavor that I want to savor for as long as possible.

"You're starving, dove," he says, finally spanning the distance I put between us. Timidly, he reaches out and traces the line of my jaw before tipping my chin up to meet his gaze. "Let me feed you."

"You're not afraid?" I ask, my voice a whisper.

His smile stretches wider, his full lips looking way too tempting. "I'd be a fool to not be afraid of you," he says, smoothing his thumb over my chin.

The answer is honest and raw, and I can't help but sink into it a little bit. He's right. It's reckless not to fear me and that's without him knowing everything.

"But that doesn't mean I want to see you hurting," he continues.

"What do you think the Collector is going to do with me when you hand me in?" I counter. "Grant me a grand room in his palace? A royal title to wield? All the blood and desire I can eat?"

His smile falls, and he visibly swallows.

It's an unfair jab, but I've never been one to fight fair. And if it's enough to sway him of this risk he's trying to take, then he'll be better off for it.

"You don't know this about me," he says, his voice low and coaxing without any hint of his power trying to sway me. "But you'll learn it the longer you're with me. I live my life one day at a time. One night at a time. One minute. One second. Each one could be my last," he continues. "This world has taught me that since conception. I don't trouble myself with the worries of tomorrow."

I huff out a laugh. "That's an interesting way to live."

"It's the only way to live, dove," he says, that light returning to his eyes. "You should try it sometime."

Try it tonight , his eyes plea. Try it with me.

I scan the lines of his face, hunting for any hint of deception, any sign of a trick, a trap, a humiliation waiting to be sprung on his silly little bounty.

There is none. Nothing but way the hushed, golden light in this room flickers off him, the, he way his pulse hammers in his veins with need, the way the taste of his desire flares and swirls around us both.

I need blood.

I need desire.

I need it to be real and powerful if I want to be as strong as possible when I get to Lingate.

"You're either very brave or very reckless," I say.

"It's both, I assure you," he says.

I shift, the tension leaving my body as I smooth my hands over his shirt, peeling it off and letting it drop to the floor so there is only the thin cotton shirt beneath my touch. He lets me explore him, lets me draw ever closer, inhaling deeply through my nose as I drag it along the seam of his neck.

My fangs punch out, and his desire flares at the sight.

He grins down at me, his hands roaming over the sides of my body, down to my hips. He grips them, hefting me up until I have to lock my ankles around his back.

"There are those fangs," he says, almost as if he's been dying to see them up close.

"Have you ever been bitten before?" I ask, doubtful. I'm not the last Succubus in existence, I know that, but we're rare. Rare enough I haven't ever met another one like me since my family died.

"No," he says. "But I've always wanted to be."

We're eye-level now as he moves through the room, settling back on the velvet couch, keeping me situated on his lap, shifting me so my thighs hug his hips.

He tips his head back, a submission I'm not expecting to affect me so damn much. Goddess, it's almost debilitating, sitting atop this strong, playful siren, and watching him give himself to me. We're fully clothed, but arousal pools between my thighs, the need so sharp it's almost painful.

"Tell me what you need, Liv," he says, those powerful hands sliding over my hips, along my spine, soothing and coaxing at the same time.

I need to feed, properly, even if it's just this once.

Even if I know it's reckless and dangerous to let him feed me in both the ways I need.

Jagger draws closer until we're chest to chest. "Do you want this?" he asks, dragging his lips over the base of my throat in a ghost of a kiss.

Fire blooms at the too-light touch, my senses sharpening to every sensation he evokes.

"What about this?" he asks, holding me tighter against him, kissing his way up my throat, the underside of my jaw, until he reaches my lips. He hesitates there, his teal eyes churning with need while he studies my fangs.

And then he kisses me, gently at first, then with more passion as I open my mouth to let him in.

A whimper escapes my throat as he teases the inside of my mouth with his tongue. There isn't a hint of hesitation or fear for my fangs. He's so careful with them, it's like he's kissed me a thousand times before.

But he hasn't.

No one has ever kissed me like this before, held me like this before—as if I'm something to worship instead of fear.

I instinctively rock against him, the pulsing need between my thighs ratcheting up with every stroke of his tongue against mine.

"Dove," he sighs against my mouth. "Tell me," he says, pulling back so our eyes meet. "Tell me what you need."

I shiver with the request. No one has ever asked.

Any partners I've had before have been wary with me, careful, binding my hands to give them a false advantage and going about the act as quickly as possible. Most of them have ventured into bed with me only to have a story to tell their friends after.

There has never been this level of affection. Not even with…

I rock harder against him, forcing the memory from my mind. His leathers do nothing to hide the length growing beneath it, and goddess, I ache to get him inside me.

I kiss him back, harder, hungrier before pulling away. I slide my hand behind his neck, gripping it. "You can't Link with me," I say it again.

"I told you, I won't fuck you three times in here," he counters. "As appealing as that sounds."

"But my bite…it can be addictive."

He chuckles softly at that. "Who says you won't as easily become addicted to me?"

I laugh at how cocky he is, how sure of himself he is.

"I'll keep my cock to myself tonight," he says, shifting one hand between us, toying with the edge of my now shredded fishnets and the skirt above them. In the back of my mind, I know I'll have to borrow some clothes from Quest before we head out again, but I'm just as quickly jerked out of the thought when Jagger's hands dip beneath my clothing. "Unless you beg me for it."

I whimper as his fingers tease my heat, a low growl coming from his chest.

"You're so slick," he says. "You need this, don't you? You need me to get you off as badly as you need to sink those pretty little fangs inside me."

Goddess, his words, his fingers, his everything . My mind whirls with need, almost drunk on the desire pouring from him.

"And what of you?" I ask, breathless as he teases me. "What do you get out of this?"

"I get to take care of you," he says, so blatantly honest and open it makes me pause, makes me study him a bit harder.

He can't mean that. There has to be more that he wants than just to soothe my hunger. Some favor he'll demand later.

And that's fine.

That's fair .

I don't care. Not anymore. Not with what's coming for me.

I need to feed. I need to be strong. And his offer is too good to pass up. Or maybe I'm too hungry to care about the consequences.

"Come on, dove," he says, dipping his fingers into my heat before stroking them against that sensitive bundle of nerves. "Show me how those fangs sting."

I throw my head back, lost in the pleasure he's coaxing out of my body with his slow, deliberate touches, his other hand dragging down my spine, settling on my lower back, urging me to rock against his hand.

It's been too long since I've been touched like this. It's intoxicating.

I peel my lips back, exposing my fangs as my eyes fall to his neck.

He grins, a victorious smile as he slows his pace, turning his head to the left, baring his neck to me.

Adrenaline surges through my blood like liquid fire, and I shift from conscious and careful, to undiluted need and hunger.

I strike, clean and hot and quick, my fangs sinking into the soft flesh of his neck in one smooth movement too fast for him to follow.

He falters for a split second, his fingers stilling between my thighs, before he adjusts, sinking two inside my heat and pumping them.

An almost animalistic moan comes from me as his blood spills into my mouth, all hot and spiced and…

Fuck, he's powerful .

I can taste it in his blood more than I could ever sense it. There's a well of power here, all hypnotic notes of honeyed melodies that have the ability to either catapult me to ecstasy or bring about my downfall.

And I love that he's beneath me, letting me ride his hand as I drink my fill to the sound of his moans. And Goddess, do those moans sound so damn delicious, like liquid velvet washing over my body.

I turn up my influence, letting it sizzle over his skin as I drink and drink and drink. A succubus bite can be pleasurable, if I will it, if I want it to be, just as much as I can make it hurt. The power is mine alone, and I make sure Jagger feels it.

"Fuck," he groans, pumping those fingers into me harder, with expert strokes that have my release trembling on the edge already. I can claim it's because it's been too long, but I'd be lying.

Jagger is just that good.

He's rock hard between us, and I can't think around how badly I want him inside me, how badly I want to feel and bite and lick every inch of his skin in that moment.

There's no time for that, not to mention the dangers in it.

But there are other ways to make him come for me, the thought of which has me melting a little more atop him.

I shift, wiggling an arm between us until I can plunge my hand beneath his leather pants and grip his considerable length.

" Dove ," he groans, hips thrusting into my grip, almost dislodging me from his throat. I'm sipping now, already sated on his blood and not wanting to take so much that he'll have a long recovery.

I shiver at the pet name he's given me, riding his hand harder as I pump him, as I lick and lap at the two puncture wounds I created on his neck. Having his blood while his fingers are inside me is an ultimate high, especially as he leans forward, drawing our bodies flush as we crash against each other in shameless need.

I feel his desire crest, feel him harden in my hand as I approach that sweet, sharp edge of release at the same time. It's beautiful, the way his desire feeds me as much as his blood. He's giving me everything on a silver platter, all wrapped in one gorgeous, powerful package, and in the back of my mind, my instincts warn me against such pretty presents, but it's too dull a concern, drowned in the pleasure and taste of his blood.

Obliterated in the way he stretches me with his hand, the way his cock feels velvet smooth and hard as steel in my hand. In the way he groans as another wave of slickness coats his fingers when he grazes his thumb over my throbbing clit, giving me just enough pressure to fly?—

" Jagger ." His name tears through me with the force of my orgasm, and I sink my fangs into the other side of his neck as I ride through the waves of my pleasure, taking one last drink, pouring the sensation back into him enough that he spills hot and heady into my stroking hand.

We tremble against each other as I lick the wounds, willing all four of them to close—a trick that took me a decade to learn.

Jagger shifts, gently withdrawing his hand, licking my flavor clean off his fingers in a claiming way that turns me liquid all over again.

"You taste like my favorite note sounds," he says, moving to pull a cloth from his pocket, cleaning me up where he spilled.

He gives my ass a light smack, grinning up at me, his eyes clear and sharp, not a hint of the blood loss affecting him.

Goddess, he really is as strong as he tastes.

"You taste like autumn." The admission is rolling off my tongue before I can stop myself, my mind sluggish with pleasure.

Something churns in his eyes at the words, but just as quickly he urges the emotion away. "Anytime you're hungry," he says. "Feel free to turn me into a snack."

I laugh at that, the levity of his offer quickly stripped away.

For now. He'll be my snack for now.

Because we only have a few weeks until we reach Lingate.

Because he wants me strong and pretty and healthy when he hands me over to the Collector in exchange for a hefty purse.

And even though that thought threatens to diminish the fun we just had, I push it away.

Because I just used him for the same reasons, and it might make me more the monster to his hunter, but I can't find a scrap of shame to care.