“Good,” I murmur. “Very good. See how nice things can be when you do as you are told?”
I watch, almost mesmerized, as even the deeper wounds begin to seal. Her body drinks it all in.
Shit.Blood witches do really heal fast.
Note to self: if I have to kill her, do it before she can feed.
Chapter 39
Millicent
PAIN RECEDES FROM MY LIMBS, retreating like a tide. In its place, a deep-seated hunger takes root like a hot, tangled network spreading through every inch of me.
The moment Cage’s blood touches my tongue, all hesitation is gone. My refusal fades, eclipsed by the overwhelming pull of my blood witch heritage.
I sink my fangs into his skin, just outside the cut, anchoring myself while I suckle on the sweet, molten nectar from his body.
I seal my lips on the wound and suck hard. It isn’t enough. The void inside me only grows, and I whimper with both desperation and frustration.
I sit up slightly, leaning into his arm. My eyes flutter shut. I feel my body tingling, alive again.
Then Cage pulls me back against him. His soaked cotton shirt clings to my skin as my spine meets his chest.
“That’s enough. Let go. I need to check your back.”
He pulls his arm away. My fangs drag against his skin, and I whine, my lips parting in protest. The ache inside me remains unfed.
“Lean forward,” he says. “You can have more.”
More. Gods, yes. I want more.I obey instantly.
I curl my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as my chin rests on top.
His calloused fingers trace my back, sending little jolts of sensation where they brush softly along my sides.
“Are they healed?” I peek over my shoulder and catch a flicker of something on Cage’s face, anger maybe. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by the same cold neutrality.
His fingers trace small patterns along my back. “Not all of them. Some things never seem to heal, do they?”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
My gaze drops to the blood dripping down his arm. I want it so badly, need it. My mouth waters, and my gums ache as my fangs throb with the urge to feed.
“We have matching scars,” he says. “Your back is Nora’s work, but you have far more than I do. So tell me, what did you get from those lessons in the end?”
“Power,” I reply. “Power that I deserved. Power for which I have paid the price.”
He snorts. “Vague answer, princess.”
His finger runs through the blood on his arm, coating it before lifting it between us. “Turn and face me.”
My eyes stay locked on the dripping red as I turn without thinking. I kneel, my hands gripping my thighs to keep them from pouncing at him.
The water sloshes around us, now resting just below my breasts. I feel exposed, hungry. He’s my prey, and he’s bleeding and injured.
He leans forward, holding his bloody finger out. My eyes dart to the blood on his finger, but it’s the scent that hits me first, sharp and sweet.
“Give me a better answer,” he says, smirking, “and I’ll feed you more, my little blood addict.”
