Midnight 01 - Luisa's Desire

Taking blood is the most intimate act a child of midnight can perform."
     
    "More intimate than sex?"
     
    His voice was husky. A quick, sharp sting told her her teeth had sharpened to feeding length. "More intimate than sex," she agreed, "though drawing what we need from another's veins awakens that desire as well."
     
    "You will refrain from indulging it, though, won't you?"
     
    "You may not want me to. Humans find the act exciting, too."
     
    "I have faced attraction before. I am not afraid."
     
    But he should have been. Martin could not guess how strong the urge to join could be, a frenzy of lust that sometimes hours of bed play could not sate.
     
    "My resolve is strong," he said, sensing her hesitance. "I do not fear to put it to the test."
     
    Her smile, gentle as it was, must have been too knowing. His eyes narrowed and he yanked the wrap of his robe halfway down his front. Her smile froze as her body heated. His muscles were tight and flat, their edges chiseled, their development perfectly balanced from sternum to shoulder cap. His chest hair was sparser than a European's, sheer dark swirls that clung to his flawless olive skin. His nipples were flushed and delicately erect. Yearning to pinch them, she curled her nails into her palms.
     
    "Drink," he ordered in a tone that brooked no denial.
     
    She had not the willpower to resist. With a moan she pressed her mouth to his neck, open, breathing heat and soul-deep need. His grip tightened on her shoulders but he did not push away. She licked him, dragging her tongue up the beating vein until a shiver swept his frame. He was hers now. She set her teeth against him and bit down.
     
    Blood flowed, filling her mouth with power and life and will as strong as sugared ginger to her tongue. Here was vigor. Here was hot male strength. Enthralled by his taste, she drew on him, wrapping her arms with grateful fervor around his back. Oh, it was good to be close, better than good. Martin seemed to agree. Gasping her name, he slid his hand down her arching spine. She knew he was losing control but she could not hold back. She pushed even tighter to his chest. Her breasts flattened beneath her robe, her nipples as hard as his. When she writhed against him, he murmured what sounded like a prayer.
     
    It was almost all she wanted, this evidence of his desire. Strength rushed into her with each swallow. She wanted to take him inside her, every throbbing, rigid inch. Desperate to touch his skin, she pushed her hand under his robe. The small of his back was smooth and dewed with sweat. She gripped his narrow buttock. His moan was even sweeter than his blood. Greed swamped her: to have him, to drink him down. Her heart pounded violently in alarm. With a groan of reluctance, she tore her mouth away.
     
    "No," he said, a hiss that drew her eyes to his. His pupils were shining jet within rings of azure flame. She could tell he was dazed but not as deeply as most humans would have been. His protest was not the effect of any thrall. She had not taken anything he did not freely give. As if to assure her of this, he cupped her blood-flushed cheek.
     
    "Let me make you strong. You haven't taken half of what I can offer. Here." He pressed her palm to his breast, his voice sinking to a growl. "Bite me here. Slowly. I want you to make it last."
     
    A rush of moisture squeezed from the tender hollow between her legs. "Slowly," she repeated, the word shaking on her lips.
     
    He nodded, shyness in it, but pride as well. His chin lifted in silent challenge. He did not care how others did this. He was asking for what he wished, drawing the veil from secrets most lovers hid. She thought she had never been so moved by someone's trust. She knew she could not refuse. "Just a little more," she agreed, then flashed a grin. "By sips."
     
    She bit him slowly this time, letting him savor the dull cold sting of breaking skin. From what she had seen of his country, not to mention the discipline of the monks, she was not surprised he would welcome a little pain. It was a test to him, a hurdle to rise above. True to her expectations, he shuddered with enjoyment as her tongue swept his tightened nipple. Knowing he liked this, she suckled him as she drank. His breath came more harshly and his muscles tensed. His aura pricked like fire where it touched hers.
     
    But she wanted to offer him more than this. She moved her second hand to the bend between his torso and his thigh. He flinched but did