Page 13 of Eternal Storm

“No.” He leans against the door, the lantern light catching the chain at his neck. “It was always her.”

My stomach does a complicated thing that’s half jealousy, half guilt, and half something else, which is three halves, which doesn’t make mathematical sense.

“Will it hurt?” I ask.

“Briefly.” His eyes hold mine. “The bite itself stings. After that—” He stops, and his fingers press against the chain. “It won’t hurt.”

“Okay.” I swallow. “Great. Where do you… I mean, where does it happen? The bite. Is there a certain spot you like? One that tastes better?”

I wince, because I just asked my boyfriend if drinking blood from a specific part of my body will taste better, and that’s so many types of messed up that I don’t know where to start.

“The neck is easiest.” He pushes off the door, and the space between us shrinks, the electricity under my skin surging in response. “More blood flow. It’s faster.”

“Efficient. I love that for us.”

The corner of his mouth curves slightly up, and the tension in my shoulders drops a fraction. Because if I can still make Logan almost-smile when he’s about to bite my neck and drink my blood, maybe I haven’t lost my mind after all.

In less than a second, he closes the distance between us and presses my back against the wall, his hand coming up to the side of my face. Electricity arcs from my cheek to his palm, and he takes a full-body inhale that makes his chest expand and his fingers tighten against my jaw.

“Your magic.” His thumb traces my cheek, every nerve ending under its path lighting up. “I can feel it in your skin.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good.” The word comes out low and rough, and my stomach flips. “Your blood will have the electricity, too. Which means it will feel very, very good.”

His hand slides from my cheek to the back of my neck, electricity crackling along his fingers and up his wrist. Then he’s walking me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed, guiding me down until he’s hovering over me, and I’m looking up at him in the narrow space between his arms.

Slowly, his mouth drops to my neck. I feel his breath first, cool against the spot where my pulse is pounding, and my fingers grip the front of his shirt as his lips press against my skin. The electricity jumps from my throat to his mouth, and a groan escapes him against my neck, the sound going straight through me and settling low in my stomach.

He bites without warning, two points of pressure breaking through skin, and I gasp, my body going rigid.

Then the pull starts, and the pain dissolves. It’s slow and rhythmic, each draw sending a wave of heat rolling through me. Electricity pours out of me and into him through every point of contact, and he makes a low, desperate sound against my throat, his arm around my waist tightening until there’s no space left between us. His hips shift against mine, the adjustment making the cabin light up silver, and as he continues to drink, I’m not sure where the feeding ends and the wanting begins.

Eventually, his mouth leaves my neck, and he’s breathing hard, his body shaking.

“Jade.” My name comes out broken as his hands slide under my shirt, my electricity flooding into him. His body jerks, and his forehead drops to my collarbone, his heart pounding harder than ever. “When it’s in your blood, I can feel everything.”

He pulls back, far enough that his face is in front of mine, and I look into his eyes.

They’re gray. Storm-cloud gray.

Not-real gray.

My chest caves in, my gaze dropping to the chain hanging from his neck. The rings press against his chest, catching the lantern light, and inside those rings is everything that keeps Logan Logan. His love. His guilt. His ability to care about me at all. Without them, he would look at me and feel nothing.

I lean back into the mattress, the electricity between us dimming from a flood to a trickle.

His gaze roams over my body, as if he’s making sure I’m okay. When his eyes meet mine again, defeat swirls inside them.

“You should rest.” He sits up slowly, leaning back against the wall. “You need to recover from the blood loss before we head to Pine Valley.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re pale.” He studies my face, and my stomach flips like it always does when he looks at me like he loves me more than anything else in the world. “Your hands are shaking.”

I look down. He’s right. My fingers are trembling, and the electricity that’s been sparking all day is gone.

“I’ll wait on deck,” he says, shifting toward the edge of the bed. “Take as long as you need.”