Forget About Midnight (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #9)(78)

“I’ll make you forget what it’s like to feel,” he whispered, sliding a hand into my hair. “If you can make me remember.”

He kissed me with a drowning desire that wiped all thought from my mind. His lips moved on mine, firm but gentle. I slipped my tongue between his lips, seeking to accept all that he was offering. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was vaguely aware of the entity’s cackle of victory.

Every action led to a reaction. We went from moment to moment, letting the power guide us to what we most longed for. It wasn’t each other, not by a long shot, but we could give each other what we needed if only because we had no tie to one another.

Our actions grew hurried, as if we couldn’t wait another second for that bliss moment we sought. His mouth was warm on mine. His hands were in my hair, and then they were on my waist. Our clothing hit the floor as we tossed it carelessly aside.

Looking at him through the eyes of a desperate, hungry predator, I tasted him again, needing his mouth on mine as his hands explored my body. He picked me up and avoided the bed, placing me instead on the desk.

His hand slid between my legs. I was ready, charged by the violent succubus essence ruling me. Falon gripped my hips, and I spread my legs in invitation. He needed no further encouragement. With his silver gaze on my vampiric blue one, he entered me in one aggressive thrust that forced a cry from me.

With clawed fingertips I clutched at him, drawing blood from wounds that healed instantly. I eyed his neck, eager for his blood now that the aroma of it had stained the air. The rustle of feathers preceded his massive wings as they appeared, cloaking us in a shelter of silver. Unable to resist, I reached to run a hand over one wing. It was impossibly soft.

Falon’s breath came hard and fast. With one hand he held tight to my hip, guiding himself into me over and over again. His other hand glided up my stomach to my breast. I ran my hands over his chest, marveling at his hard physique, tight muscle and firm lines created for a warrior who had never been human. How amazingly well made he was.

I focused on the way he felt inside me and my growing hunger for the powerful blood beneath his skin. Falon was everything I hated and losing myself in him changed me in ways greater than I could know in that moment.

Right then I hated myself. It was only fitting that I punish myself with someone I hated nearly as much.

The absence of love made the entire thing deliciously wrong. The pleasure I got from that was all kinds of sinful. Knowing it was so illicit, so vile in its own way, only made me enjoy it more. Having Falon between my legs brought me to a place of liberation that was built on a lie. And I didn’t care.

I kissed him again, a violent kiss born of inner pain. My fangs pierced his lip, and a drop of blood hit my tongue. The atmosphere flooded with power that neither of us maintained any control over.

With a groan Falon muttered against my lips, “You better come for me, you bitch.”

The wicked laughter that spilled forth barely sounded like me. “That’s all in your hands now, isn’t it? Stop being such a * and show me what you’re made of.”

His expression was one of tortured desire. I knew that loving what you felt at the touch of someone you hated was a real slap in the face. In a low, husky snarl he said, “I am going to wreck you.”

We challenged each other because we hated each other. This encounter held all of the same aspects as every other encounter between us. Tension. Disdain. The subtle promise of violence. It was wrong and dirty, and I loved it.

Falon hooked an arm under my leg and used it to angle himself deeper. His wings flapped once, bathing me in a soft, brief breeze. There was urgency in his rhythm. It was fueled by the rising power, the angelic and vampiric crashing together like the warm and cool air that creates thunder.

All too quickly his aggressive thrusts forced me closer to the edge of orgasmic release. My cries grew in volume, becoming screams that echoed the primal force inside me.

I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to take everything I could get from Falon. I was drunk on his potent energy, seeking only to add blood to the mix.

With a hand on the back of his neck, my fingers played in his near-silver hair. I leaned in and pressed my mouth to the pulse pounding in his neck. The heady, masculine scent of him tightened the knot of arousal in my groin.

I waited until that perfect thrust, the one that would knock me over the edge, and then I plunged my fangs into his beautiful vein. Blood rushed from the wound, just enough to coat my tongue before it healed. Licking my lips, I sighed and bit him again.

The power driving us ran rampant, bending us to its will. Falon tensed and groaned, twitching inside me with his release. There was a roar of white noise in my ears, momentarily deafening. A flash of brilliant light lit up my vision. The power in his blood hit me like a ton of bricks.

I felt like I was flying, soaring far above this room, this building, even this city. It was like my spirit left my body behind with Falon and escaped into the ether, becoming one with all things. The impact of taking his blood and power was greater than it had been prior to my vampiric transition. For a second, I forgot who I was.

Then it all came rushing back to me, and I crashed down to earth like I’d been shot out of the sky. With my ears ringing and my vision clearing, I became painfully aware of what we’d just done. What we could never undo. And the jarring realization made me sick.

I pushed Falon away, clambered off the desk and managed to turn away before violently dry heaving in the corner. It hurt. My body was no longer equipped for vomiting. The blood I’d taken from him refused to come up. My body would not part with it.