Page 66 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

“What would happen if I fed from you?” I asked.

He trailed a finger along my collarbone. I shuddered, pressing myself closer to him. “You might feel more sensitive to light and touch,” he mused. “If you were to be injured, you would heal quickly.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really.”

I brushed my fingers absentmindedly against the throbbing pulse in my throat. None of what he said sounded bad. In fact, it sounded exciting. When my gaze met Mordric’s, his expression was serious. I sensed no emotions from him, neither anger nor pleasure.

“If sharing blood is so important to vampires,” I said slowly, “why not try it with me?”

His gaze softened. “Because there’s always the small chance that my ancient instincts take over and I lose control,” he said. “I’m a thousand times stronger than you, Finn. If something went wrong, I’d never forgive myself.”

“I trust you,” I whispered.

He dipped his head, his breath tickling my ear. My skin felt charged, the peaks of my breasts hardening in anticipation.

“Then I want to hear you say it,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

I dragged my tongue over my bottom lip. “I want you to drink from me.”

My heart pounded in my chest as he lowered his lips to my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as he did so. He caressed the hollow of my throat with his thumb, then traced a line around my neck with kisses as soft as butterfly wings. I gasped as his lips parted, his fangs inches from my skin.

“I’ll think about it.”

You spend all your time with that wretched human.

I’m fulfilling a duty to the King.

My fingers curled inward as I replayed the conversation in my mind. Weeks had passed since the feast of Iltsar, and yet I couldn’t stop. I tortured myself with the image of Enhart and Genevieve, reminded of what I had seen in the vampiress’s beautiful head every time I laid eyes on the prince.

I hate seeing you with anyone else.

The Outlander is nothing but a duty to me. A nuisance. A pain.

I loathed them. Anger coursed through my veins, so hot that I thought my skin might smolder.

Believe me, I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.

“Are you even listening to me?”

I dropped my gaze from the twinkling stars above my head. The prince sat before me with an unamused expression on his face. The moon had risen high in the sky as he droned on and on about the mechanics of combat magic.

“Well?” he pressed, leaning close.

“Why would I need to be in a physical fight?” I asked. “I’m supposed to sit on the king’s council. That’s all.”

“Kingdoms get overthrown all the time,” he countered. “As royal adviser, you need to be prepared for anything.”

“Well this one’s been standing for millennia.”

“King Sangrey ruled for only a century before he was usurped by his own brother. He and his wife were poisoned at a banquet in front of their entire council, none of whom raised a finger to save them. Have you forgotten your Valenian history?”

“He was overthrown by your grandfather,” I pointed out. “Perhaps you should worry about your own back instead of mine.”

“You’re awfully prickly today,” he said, his voice low.

I nearly laughed. “I just know you have better things to do with your time,” I replied.