Page 73 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

He’s fully in his demonic form now, and I’m soaked, moaning against his neck as I drink the fire from his veins. I’ve taken the life force from many, but never a demon, and there’s something poetic about it.

We’re both damned. He’s bound to the land of the dead, and I’m undead.

“That’s right,” he whispers. “Just like that.”

Which is he praising: the feeding or our bodies moving together?

I’m done drinking, but I don’t stop. His powerful hands rock me back and forth, and I don’t want to stop. Pleasure fills me with each press, each cry, each grunt. I lick the wound on his neck, making sure he heals properly.

It should be over, but our bodies must have minds of their own. With my head hidden against his neck, I whimper and whine, riding him until pleasure sparks in my core. The only sounds between us are noises of desire.

I don’t dare say a word, worried I’ll ruin the moment, and he must feel the same.

I’m energized for the first time in a month, electrified. I have so much to give, and he lets me, growling into my ear as I find my release—without a single real touch. He made me come without touching, without fucking.

I lift my head, expecting to feel embarrassed, but I don’t. Vermilion irises stare back at me. While his horns were away before, they’re out now, curling above his head. I touch one shyly, and he lets out a soft sigh.

“Is that enough for you?” he asks, his voice a growl. “Take more if you need it. Don’t be afraid. I have everything you need.”

“You gave enough.” I press my lips together, holding back a smile. “You’re surprisingly generous. Thank you. I feel… better than I have in a long time.”

His generosity is unlike any man I’ve ever known. He’s still hard beneath me, but he doesn’t try for more. His claws graze against the back of my neck. His hands are as monstrous as mine, but it’s a softer touch than I’ve ever known.

I let my hand fall from his horn. His expression softens, and the lust in his gaze fades into something else.

I can’t put my finger on what it is.

Chapter Eighteen

Jun is right after all. Heisa gentleman.

We spend the night cuddling, and it doesn’t go further than that. We both want more—I can feel his desire through the feeding link.

That feeling, the bond I opened, doesn’t go away as quickly as it usually does. It’s morning now. Why can Istillfeel it? Feeding from someone awakens a psychic connection, but it ends after the feed. It’s still here now, lingering.

What the hell? There must be something wrong with his blood.

Finally, I force my eyes open. I fell asleep with his warm form around me, but…

When I wake up, it’s cold, and I’m alone. After getting used to feeling Jun’s warmth throughout the night, the cold of his room is jarring. The yellow morning light leaks through the window, and with a hefty sigh, I roll out of bed.

I would rather continue sleeping. I’m not keen on walking around campus alone early in the morning, but if Jun doesn’t want me here… I’m certainly not staying. What transpired the night before was nothing, but it was already too much for him. That has to be the reason he left without a word.

What made him run from me? Sharing blood, or something else?

I’m rigid as I get dressed and creep outside.

This has got to be the loneliest walk of shame I’ve ever experienced. We didn’t even have sex. Why do I feel this way?

I duck my head low, walking through the courtyard and praying no one recognizes me.

When I return to my dormitory, Tobey is there—and they’re waiting to pounce.

I drop my bag on the floor.

“Don’t.” I ignore them as I rifle through my wardrobe.

“Don’t what?” They’re the picture of innocence, sitting crisscrossed on their bed and watching me with a playful smirk. “Don’t ask you about your evening with Jun? I wouldn’t dare.”