Page 63 of Fangbanger

Marcus is standing here, my knife buried in his chest, and still he won’t let go.

Stab him, Leah.

It’s not my slayer instincts, but my heart.

“I should make you go,” I whisper. “I have a containment spell in the living room. Five feet away.” The words crumble as he sucks on my jaw. “I like you too much to hurt you, Marcus. I feel like I have been offered terrible choices. Keep you and kill you, or hurt you and make you go.”

He hums in his throat and nips gently at my earlobe. “Funny, that. I know what I’d choose.” His breath ruffles my hair. He urges me closer with a hand on my waist. The knife sinks in another centimeter. His blood perfumes the air between us, like cool iron. My nostrils flare.

“I like you too, slayer. I could never hurt you.”

I make a noise of distress.

He brushes kisses along my jaw. I tremble and let the knife drop.

He makes a pleased sound in his throat, and I respond with a sob and the frantic press of my mouth to his. It’s awkward at first, until he turns his head and our mouths fit together.

Our other kisses have been raw, needy, heated. This is…tender. I’ve never had a kiss like this. He kisses me while he flashes us upstairs. The world spins and dissolves. It reforms around me, and still my mouth is pressed to his. Still, his tongue is slick against mine.

His lips are plush and firm, and I cup his jaw with both hands and explore his mouth. He runs his rough palms down my sides, until they land on my hips and pull me against him.

He makes ragged sounds as I kiss him. He pulls at our clothes, but I can’t be bothered. My eyes are squeezed shut, and his lovely mouth and the blade-sharp edge of his jaw are the center of my world.

Dimly, I realize that he’s trying to get us naked, and I’m not helping.

“Leah.” He breaks the kiss. I chase his mouth. He laughs against my lips. “Clothes off, slayer.”

“We shouldn’t,” I sigh.

“Why not?” He nudges me back against the bed, mouth on mine. I tumble onto it, and with supernatural speed, he stretches over me.

I explore the planes of his face with my fingertips. Stubble, cool skin, hard bone. A ridge in his narrow nose where he must have broken it. A scar over his upper lip where he was cut. His body is a map of the horrors he’s experienced.

“I won’t be a part of hurting you any further.” I smooth the ridge of his brow with my fingertips. Even his eyebrows are luxurious. “I can’t leave Silver Falls, and you have your vengeance. Imagine binding yourself to me and discovering this isn’t what you want.”

His mouth twists, and I place my fingers over it.

I was shaking with emotion earlier, but now I feel clear. Warm and focused and certain of what I have to do.

“I won’t bond with you, Marcus Antonius. I like you too much for that.”

He nips at my fingers and gently removes my hand before he kisses me again.

“Last time,” I tell him. I mean the words to be cool and casual, but they arc through the air and linger heavily between us.

“Last time,” he rasps before he slides my shirt up and sighs a breath. His expression is wrecked. “Leah. I have to—” He sucks one nipple into his mouth, and I gasp and arch. His mouth is warm and soft and his teeth scrape delicious until one fang⁠—

“Fuck,” I groan.

His hand finds mine and presses me against the bed.

“I know,” he says raggedly. He sucks my nipple hard, urgent, until it aches and I tremble on the bed. I rake my fingers through his hair and scrape my nails against his scalp. He groans his pleasure and kisses down my stomach.

I twist and arch at the rasp of his stubble. “Marcus,” I whine as he reaches my hipbone and nips. He skirts the most important parts, languid, taking his time.

His eyes laugh up at me. “My lovely mate,” he growls. “Look at you.” His fingers slip under the waistband of my underwear and pull them down. His gaze is reverent when I’m bared to him, and my cheeks warm. He looks—starving. “Look at you,” he repeats before he presses my thighs wider.

“Hurry up, vampire.” I arch to meet his mouth, and he grins, a bright flash in the moonlit bedroom.