Page 35 of Fangbanger

“Nothing is wrong.” I clear my throat. “I was surprised. Keep going.”

He bites again, and this time there’s no pain. I’m slapped with need. An ocean of it. I brace a palm on the wall, but it doesn’t help. If anything, it shifts me more firmly against his mouth, makes his fangs sink deeper. I cry out at the ocean of pleasure and the shrieking of my instincts that urge me to stake him and flee.

Marcus makes a sound in his chest. His hand comes up to cradle my head. His fingers weave through my hair and his hand at my waist urges me closer. I force my heart rate to lower.

He pulls at my throat with his mouth, and sensation arrows between my legs. It grows as he sucks, each pulse spinning heat through me.

It feels like I will dissolve if he keeps going.

My breaths are more like pants in the quiet bathroom. I try desperately to keep quiet, even as a whimper rises in my throat. I have to maintain control. He could rip out my throat. He could drain me.

It feels impossible, like I’m swimming in warm honey. Each pull of his mouth threatens to drag me under.

Get it together, Leah.

My nipples pinch as he draws firmly on my throat.

“Slayer,” he rasps. “Let go.”

“No.”

I can’t let go. What does that make me? It makes me just like everyone else who has fallen prey to his spell. I have to be better. I’m a slayer, for fuck’s sake, not a foolish human who met him in a club.

His hand drops to my thigh. I squirm with pleasure at the contact.

“Leah,” he croons. He isn’t biting me anymore, and I want to cry. I’m so close. Pleasure is coiled tight in my stomach, and I shake with need.

He feels it.

“Let go,” he demands before he bites me again. A moan rips from my throat. His hips jerk.

My thoughts short out at the feel of him under me.

He’s hard.

He’s hard for me. He feels the way I do. I can’t think past the demands of my body, the need to finish.

Just once. I’ll let him sweep me away just once. I let my lids flutter shut and my hips punch forward.

21

MARCUS

I’ve already taken the first step on the road to perdition. Biting her was foolish, but taking it further feels both imperative and dangerous.

My head swims. I’ve never felt this way before. Electric. Possessive. I’ve fed from blood-givers. I’ve had relationships.

Stories say nothing can compare to how it feels to take your mate. Stories didn’t explain the half of it.

I can hear my blood. I can hear hers. Every sense is drenched—her arousal, her silky skin, the taste of her blood, the shallowness of her breathing, and the thrum of her pulse. I don’t remember being this turned on in my entire immortal life. Not even when I was human. My body sings with pleasure, with power, from her blood. My injuries are healed and I have never been stronger.

Magic sparks hot under my skin. I tip my head back against the wall as I burn.

Take her.

I nearly snarl. I will not be taking anything.

I will scare her. I could hurt her. She was so utterly unprepared for this. As unprepared as I was. I force my fangs away and watch her through half-lidded eyes.