Eternal Sin

She refused to look at him. She was such an idiot. She got her feet under her and tried to get away again, but he held her backside firmly in his hands.

“Listen to me, veana. I cannot feed from you.”

Oh, my gods, this was torture. “I know, okay? You’ve already made that clear. So why are you keeping me here?” She struggled to get free again, but his grip was like steel. “I’m done.”

“No, you’re not. You want the vein in my neck, and bloody hell, I want you to take it.”

For the first time since he’d placed her on top of him, Petra realized that she wasn’t just straddling his hips—her sex was resting on his cock. His hard, nearly uncovered cock.

Heat surged into her lower half, and she squeezed the muscles in her pussy. She couldn’t help herself. It was such a goddamn tease. She wanted him inside her. Deep. Like he’d been before. Like she remembered. All the way to her womb. Until she lost her breath.

“Take it, Petra,” he commanded, his fingers gripping her tightly.

Her eyes found his and held.

“Drain me.”

She bit her lip. “So you can go find that female to feed from?” she whispered. Christ, she sounded like a meek little mouse, not like a Pureblood vampire with razor-sharp fangs and impossible strength.

Synjon’s eyes filled with heat, and he sat up quickly, catching her when she jerked backward. When they were face-to-face, he gripped her ass in his palms. “I cannot feed from you,” he said through gritted teeth, “because it would take from the balas.”

Her head tilted to one side as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

“I won’t steal blood from the balas.”

She stared at him. His eyes were so intelligent, hard, filled with passion, and she realized just what he was saying. And what it meant. He did truly care about her child. The idea equally worried and enchanted her, and before she knew what she was doing, she buried her hands in his hair, pulled his head back, and bit his neck. Hard.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping her, his fingers pressing into her lower back.

Blood poured into Petra’s mouth, and she drank greedily. Gods, if she could just have his cock inside her while she fed. If he could pump slowly in and out as the blood ran down her throat.

But she couldn’t have that.

He cared about the balas, not about her.

His hands raked down her hips and cupped her ass, drawing a moan from her throat in between swallows. His cock pressed against the seam of her covered pussy, begging for access. And while she continued to drink, she ground herself against him until they were both breathing hard.

“Petra,” he uttered in the sexiest voice she’d ever heard.

Her belly more than full, she eased her fangs out of his vein, then licked the wound until it closed. When she lifted her head and locked eyes with the paven who’d just fed her, she nearly gasped. It wasn’t the Synjon she’d known in the past few days. This one with his curled lip and glowing eyes was still ultrasexual and sharp as a polished blade, but his expression also revealed vulnerability.

Vulnerability that he was attempting to mask.

But Petra could see it was there.

What did it mean? How was it possible? His emotions were gone. Vulnerability was the very root of emotion, wasn’t it?

And then, as if the expression behind his eyes weren’t enough, he brought his hand between her legs and touched her. Lightly, gently, he ran his fingers up and down the seam of the jeans covering her pussy. She stared at him, knowing he felt just how hot and wet she was.

It was too much. The power he had, the desperation she felt. In that moment, with his hands on her body and his eyes claiming her soul, she knew she’d do whatever he asked of her. Anything. Anything to continue to feel this way.

She pushed away from him, scrambled off the bed, and ran out of the room. Her body was on fire, her breasts ached, and juices ran from her cunt like honey from a jar. She knew she was acting irrationally, but she had to get away from him before she melted into a puddle.

She hurried down the hallway, through the living area and into her bedroom. Breathing heavily, her cheeks flaming from his blood, she slammed the door behind her and went into the bathroom. Thank gods it had a lock. She leaned forward and cranked on the water in the shower, then dropped back against the door and slipped her hand into the waistband of her jeans.

She didn’t know if he’d followed her. She didn’t care. All that mattered in that moment was coming, and coming hard. She pushed past her underwear, wished she could rip it off, and found her wet slit.

“Ahhh,” she whispered, turning her head so her cheek rested against the cool wood. “Gods, yes.”

She sent her other hand too, and while one opened her lips wide, the other circled her swollen clit. What she wouldn’t give for Syn’s long, rock-hard cock inside her right now.

Just the thought had her moaning, juices running down her thighs. She stopped the circle movement and started working the ridge of her clit, up and down until her mind went blank.

She heard something on the other side of the door. A knock or a scratch. She couldn’t tell. She didn’t care.

“Getting wet, Petra?”

His voice. That sexy growl carried, even over the onslaught of the shower water hitting the tiles.

“I scent you,” he called. “Through the wood. Fuck, I followed you down the bloody hall like a dog in heat.”

She pulled herself wider, flicked her clit so lightly she groaned with irritation at herself. What was she doing? Prolonging it? Drawing it out as he talked her through her climax?

“I would’ve gladly taken care of that problem, love. All you had to do was ask.”

Panting, she pressed down on her clit.

“Are your eyes closed, veana?”

Moaning, she slipped the fingers that were holding her sex open deep into her pussy.

“Do you see me on my knees before you?” he called. “Do you see my fangs descend? Do you see them bracket your swollen clit as I lick you? My strokes so quick, you lose your breath . . .”

Light flashed on the backs of Petra’s eyelids and she cried out.

“Do you see my tongue sliding all the way down the ridge of your clit? Do you feel it thrusting up inside your cunt, fucking your drenched pussy until you come? All the way down my dry throat.”

Impaled on her fingers, her thumb pressing hard on her clit, Petra screamed. She didn’t mean to. But the feeling, the shock to her system, the words, his voice, it all sent her rocketing out of her body and into the heavens. Convulsing, moaning, she pressed back against the door and just let the waves of climax roll over her.

11

Standing on the other side of the door, his hand wrapped around his cock, Synjon stroked himself in time to the breathy moans of Petra coming down from climax.

It wasn’t what he wanted, how and where he wanted it, but hearing her, scenting her—verbally fucking her—had made him absolutely mad with desire.

He wanted.

Her.

In a way he didn’t understand.

Couldn’t quantify.

Fuck, what was happening to him? he wondered as he let his head fall forward against the wood, his hand moving quicker now. Getting off was a purely physical act. No connection, no intense desire for anything more than a body to move against. And yet . . .