We lay tangled on the cold ground, skin to skin, blood smearing across our bodies like second skin. Some were old and dried, some new, but I don't care. I rested on top of him, my palm spread over his chest, my black hair spilling in dark strands over his bloodstained skin. Both of us sated. Spent. All in the best way.
He fed from me just moments ago, his fangs at the base of my neck, drinking me down as he drove into me mercilessly until I shattered around him. Now, a dull throb lingered at the base of my neck along with an ache between my thighs. he had marked me the best way he knew how.
And yet, I've never felt more whole. More at peace. Happiness, raw and dangerous, spreading in my veins like wildfire.
"How is my sister?" he asked, his fingers idly twining strands of my hair.
"Healing," I said, though my mind drifted to Angelo, the way he looked when I drove off. How distraught he looked.
