Darkyn's Mate

"No."

"It must be voluntary?"

"On both our parts."

"Why are the words so important? Me being your mate isn't enough?" she guessed. "You want complete surrender."

"You did that last night, no matter what you choose to remember." The husky laugh made her stomach flutter. "Mentally, you are holding out. I spent my life at battle. There is no such thing as half a victory. I won't let you think there's a chance this isn't real or permanent."

"So, that's it?" she asked.

"That's it. Private deal. One week."

The idea that it bothered him enough to provoke a deal made her brow furrow. All she had to do was make it a week without agreeing to the blood binding. There had to be a catch with Darkyn's deal. She didn't see it, though, unless he intended to force her to do it, in which case, she was fucked anyway. The words would mean nothing to her at that point.

"Fine," she said, at the end of her rope with him. "Will you leave me alone now? Please."

"Not quite. I came to feed as well."

Deidre heard him approach from behind. She tensed, waiting for the flip to switch and him to grab her. He touched her, trailing his hands down her arms. Her body responded to him in a way that made her angrier. He nudged her head to the side to reach her neck, and she pushed back, refusing.

His hands on her arms made her body betray her again. It was harder to resist him than it was Gabriel, which made her want to weep. She didn't understand it. It wasn't possible she was meant for Darkyn. He nudged her head once more. She refused him.

"Rules," he reminded her.

"Fuck your rules," she said. "And fuck you if you think I'll ever volunteer to be bound to you."

"That's why I have insurance."

He pulled her into his body, and the intensity of the strange hunger within her expanded. She focused on what he said to keep herself distracted from the yearning growing in her body. She felt his arousal against her backside, while his other hand rested on the bare skin of her hip. Hot nips started down the side of her neck. Overwhelmed, she instinctively tilted her head in submission, exposing her neck to him.

"I don't lose deals, Deidre," he repeated. "You were bound last night."

The images he placed in her mind were of her arching beneath him, crying out his name, while he drank from her. She recalled biting him and the taste of his blood. It was thick in her mouth, slightly sweet, and made her ravenous. It was her fever dream without the heaviness of illness to blur it.