Darkyn's Mate

Except, when he touched her, it felt real again.

Unable to exit the dream fully, Deidre had no concept of how long they stood before the black flames of the fire.

"Choose."

"Yes," she whispered.

Rather than drink from her, he kissed her. Unlike Gabriel, who was gentle, teasing, Darkyn was demanding. Deidre felt herself breathless and consumed before the end of their first kiss, yielding to the intensity of his kiss and the firmness of his touch. He slid her dress free, his hands moving over her body possessively before he lifted her and carried her to the bed.

His body was solid and strong, the sensations of his skin against hers and his scents intoxicating her. She fell headfirst into his spell. True to his word, he was aggressive without hurting her. The nip of his fangs at her neck, inner thighs and breasts almost drove her over the edge while his hot tongue and hands explored every part of her.

She found herself nipping back at his chest and neck, something she'd never done before. The faint scent was there, pulling her. She was almost able to catch it before it fled her again. She tasted his skin, but it, too, wasn't enough. She wanted something as elusive as the scent. He eased into her body at first then made love to her hungrily, relentlessly pushing her deeper into the haze of pleasure and desire, until she arched beneath him, her body on the verge of shattering.

His fangs sank into her neck.

This time, there was a combination of distant pain and pleasure as he bit her that almost pierced the hazy dream. Deidre gripped him, craving something she didn't know how to ask him for. He drank deeply. The pain faded once more, and the experience became too dreamlike to be real.

He lifted his head, whispering,

"Bite me."

Lost in the heady sensations, Deidre wriggled and strained beneath him. He pinned her hands above her head to keep her still then whispered the command again. Desperately trapped by need unlike anything she'd ever known, she obeyed.

She bit his neck gently, not wanting to hurt him despite the strange dream and hunger in her body screaming to be filled.

"Harder." Darkyn moved in and out of her slowly, taking her closer to her climax.

Overwhelmed by the pleasure, Deidre bit him hard enough that she tasted him. Distant alarm was overwhelmed by need. This was what she smelled, what she ached to taste. The warm liquid in her mouth didn't taste like blood; it was virtually flavorless, tainted by a sweetness hard to quantify. The consuming need to drink from him swept through her mind, dulling the rest of the world.