His hands are in my hair, his mouth demanding, and I lose myself in the taste of steel and night air. Everything else falls away—the Challenge, the lies, the fear. There's only this moment, this kiss, this need.
My teeth catch his lower lip. I bite down without thinking.
Blood bursts across my tongue.
The taste hits me like lightning—hot and rich and alive with power. My body responds instantly, hunger roaring to life so fierce it steals my breath. I didn't realize how starved I was until this moment, until his blood flooded my senses and made everything sharp and clear and desperately, achingly necessary.
Sebastian goes still against me. Then his hands tighten in my hair, holding me in place as a low sound rumbles from his chest.
When he pulls back, his lip is bleeding. His silver eyes are dark, pupils blown wide.
"How long since you last fed?" His voice is rough.
"I—" My mind is foggy, distracted by the taste lingering on my tongue. "Two days? Maybe three?"
"Three days." He says it like a curse. "During intensive training. While your body's burning through energy faster than normal." His thumb traces my lower lip, coming away red with his blood. "You're starving."
"I'll manage—"
"No." He cuts me off. "You won't."
Before I can protest, before I can think, his hand goes to his own mouth. I watch, transfixed, as one sharp canine pierces his tongue. Blood wells up immediately, darker and richer than what came from his lip.
My breath stops. "Sebastian—"
"Do you want it?" His eyes hold mine, challenge and offer wrapped together. "Yes or no."
I should say no. Should remember that feeding from another vampire is intimate in ways that go beyond physical. It creates connections. Bonds. Things that can't easily be undone.
But I'm so hungry, and he's offering, and the taste of him is still singing through my veins.
"Yes."
He doesn't hesitate. His mouth crashes against mine, and this time when his blood flows it's deliberate. Purposeful. He's feeding me, and the intimacy of it makes my knees weak.
I moan into his mouth, pressing closer. His blood tastes like thunder and starlight, ancient power wrapped in iron will. It pours into me, filling the emptiness, making my body come alive in ways I'd forgotten were possible. Every nerve lights up. Every sense sharpens. I feel stronger, clearer, more myself than I have in days.
And I feel him. His heartbeat syncing with mine. His power intertwining with what little I have. The edges of his consciousness brushing against my thoughts—not invading, just present. Aware.
It's intoxicating. Overwhelming. I've never felt anything like this—not with Soren, not with anyone. This is what feeding is supposed to be. Connection and power and trust all woven together.
His hands slide from my hair to my waist, pulling me flush against him. I can feel every hard line of his body, can feel how affected he is by this. By me. The knowledge sends heat spiraling through me that has nothing to do with blood.
My hands fumble with his shirt, desperate for skin. The buttons are impossibly small, impossibly complicated. I make a frustrated sound and he breaks the kiss long enough to help, shrugging out of the fabric with practiced efficiency.
Then his mouth is back on mine and I'm touching him—all that warm skin over hard muscle, scars mapping a history I don't know, power coiled beneath the surface like a sleeping dragon. He's beautiful in a dangerous way, all controlled violence and lethal grace.
He walks me backward until my spine hits the wall. The stone is cold against my back but his body is furnace-hot against my front, and the contrast makes me gasp.
His hands find the fastenings of my dress and I arch into his touch, needing more, needing everything. When his fingers slip beneath fabric, finding bare skin, electricity shoots through me.
"Tessa." My name is a groan against my lips, rough and wanting and almost reverent.
His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, then lower. He finds the pulse point in my throat and lingers there, tongue tracing where my blood runs closest to the surface. His teeth scrape—not biting, just teasing—and I make a sound that would embarrass me if I could think past the sensation.
"You taste like power," he murmurs against my skin. "Like starlight and fury."
My hands explore his back, feeling muscles shift under my palms, tracing the raised lines of old scars. I want to know the story of each one. Want to know everything about him.
My dress loosens further as he works the fastenings, and his hands slide inside, mapping curves and planes like he's memorizing me by touch. Everywhere he touches feels like fire, like I might burn up from the inside out.
I find the fastenings of his trousers, my hands shaking with need. When my fingers brush against heated skin, he makes a sound low in his throat that sends my pulse racing.
"We should stop," he says, but his hands are already sliding my dress off my shoulders, his mouth finding the newly exposed skin.
"Don't you dare," I breathe, tilting my head back to give him better access.
His laugh is dark and hot against my collarbone. "Wasn't planning on it."
His blood is still singing in my veins, making everything sharper, more intense. I can feel his desire like it's my own, can sense the way he's holding back even as his control frays. It's exhilarating. Terrifying. Perfect.
My dress falls to my waist. His mouth trails lower, finding places that make me gasp, make me arch, make me forget everything except this moment and his hands and his mouth and—
A knock shatters the moment.
We both freeze. Sebastian's mouth is still against my skin, his hands still on my body, both of us breathing hard.
"Lady Tessa?" A servant's voice filters through the alcove, carefully neutral. "Forgive the intrusion. There is a visitor requesting your immediate presence."
No. Not now.
Sebastian pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. I can feel his frustration matching my own, can see the struggle in his silver eyes between duty and desire.
"Who?" I manage to call out, trying to sound like I wasn't just being thoroughly ravished against a wall.
"Lord Soren Ravencrest, my lady." A pause. "He arrived alone. Without Lady Diana and escort. He insists the matter is urgent."
The name hits like cold water.
Soren. Here. Without his new wife.
Sebastian's hands drop away from me immediately. When I meet his eyes, I see my shock reflected in silver.
"I'll be there shortly," I tell the servant.