Where Dark Things Wait: Night Creatures Book One

Chapter Nineteen - The Bad Idea

She spat toothpaste into the sink, then rinsed her mouth with water. She did so partly because didn't want to bite or kiss Dunstan after what had happened in the yard, not without brushing her teeth, and partly to give him time to change his mind before committing to recommitting the really bad idea. Yet when she left his bathroom again, she realised she needn't have worried. He sat on the edge of his bed, waiting, his focus still on her. Desire continued to brighten his eyes, turning them more honey than amber as he tipped his head again, offering his throat, every bit as willing as the human at Red Night.

"Are you sure? You weren't happy about me forging the bond in the first place, won't this extend the period of heightened connection?" she wondered, because she didn't want it to be something he regretted.

"The bond is there now either way, and whether it fades in three days, or five, or seven, it makes very little difference," he reminded her, then ordered, "Come here, Kalyna."

Something about the way he said it - both the order and her name, with a rough edge to the timbre of his voice - had her skin tingling as electricity sparked across it, and a soft murmur of need left her lips, prompting his deliciously kissable mouth to tip up in a confident smirk. She went to him, the murmur of need becoming a moan as his scent enveloped her again; sweet, and spiced, and perfect. He groaned too, and tugged her closer, to straddle his lap.

Any desire to protest or hesitate fled her mind, and her mouth went to his throat, her tongue following the path of his jugular, tasting his skin. Dunstan groaned again, a rumbling growl of need vibrating through his chest. His arms went around her, his hands sliding to her ass as he held her tight against him. Her fingers knotted in his hair, holding his head in place as she sank her teeth into his throat. He inhaled sharply at the sting, the encouraging vibration of his need sounding more urgent as he lifted his hips, the straining bulge of his erection grinding up against her apex. His blood flooded her mouth with salted caramel and cinnamon, and only the slightest copper tang.

Swallowing hungrily, Kalyna gave herself over to her ravenous thirst. Every mouthful brought a flood of heat through her body, heightening her awareness of the man under her, from the coolness of his body to the hardness of his length rocking against her core. Her own body burned, but it was more than desire. His blood energised her, chasing the exhausted ache from her limbs more effectively than food, or sleep, or anything else.

She wanted to take everything, to drink until she couldn't take any more. She suddenly understood why he'd warned her against biting those who tempted her most. They played a dangerous game, and her restraint existed only because she wanted him more than she wanted to drain him. When she tugged her teeth free of his flesh, she lapped up the blood from his skin, then slanted her mouth over his. She kissed him deeply, and he groaned at the taste of himself on her tongue.

He didn't protest when her fingers sought out the hem of his t-shirt, peeling it from his body. Her fingers trailed over cool skin, tracing the outlines of tattoos, a complex knotwork creating zoomorphic creatures like some Viking or Anglo-Saxon carving. Wolves, dragons, boars, and ravens rippled across his skin, dividing stylised scenes of battling warriors which twisted up his forearms, feeding into scenes from some ancient village where people farmed and children played. But then those domestic scenes darkened, and as the tattoos curled onto Dunstan's biceps, death followed. The women and children depicted in earlier scenes were shown prone on the ground instead, and a new figure dominated the destruction; a solitary woman in a Roman or Grecian dress, with descended fangs and a cruel and haughty expression.

When Kalyna's fingers touched that figure, rendered in black and grey, Dunstan hissed a growl of warning, and she guessed that whatever part of his history that vampire represented, it hadn't been happy. Perhaps it had to do with the scars that littered his body, but she didn't want to focus on that. She didn't want him to grow angry or push her away, so she kissed him again instead of asking about his tattoos, nipping his lip and refocusing his attention on her rather than on whatever had happened in his past.