He drove his elongated fangs directly into the damaged, torn tissue of the existing wound.
I screamed, arching off the porcelain. The agony lasted a microsecond before the venom deployed—a catastrophic tidal wave of golden, liquid fire flooding my brain with blinding euphoria. The pain vanished, replaced by a throbbing heat.
He drank slowly, lulling my traumatized nerves into absolute bliss. I let out a soft moan, my hands sliding up his wet, muscular back.
Kaelen groaned against my neck. He pulled back, his eyes swallowed by pitch-black lust. "You are so incredibly sweet," he murmured.
He didn't finish the thought. Instead, he scooped me out of the scalding water, completely heedless of the mess, grabbing a massive towel and wrapping it around me.
"We are not doing this here," he growled, carrying me out of the suite and back down the halls, straight into the freezing, sterile environment of the West Wing laboratory. He kicked the heavy doors shut and deposited me directly onto the cold stainless-steel surgical table.
He dropped the towel.
"Kaelen," I moaned, the sound thick and heavy with arousal.
My hands, acting entirely on their own accord, slid down from his arms. I dragged my nails lightly down the scarred expanse of his chest, following the dark treasure trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his wet tactical trousers.
He let out a low, guttural growl against my neck, his fangs pulsing in my vein again, but he didn't pull away.
I felt the heavy, rigid heat of his erection pressing against the thick fabric of his pants, right between my parted knees. The monster was just as aroused by the blood and the violence as I was by the venom.
My fingers found the heavy zipper of his trousers. I didn't hesitate. I pulled it down, the metallic rasp loud in the quiet lab.
Kaelen's breathing hitched, a sharp intake of air through his nose, but his mouth remained locked onto my neck, his tongue swirling over the puncture wounds, lapping up the mixture of my blood and his venom.
I pushed the heavy fabric aside, my small, trembling hands wrapping around his thick, fully hardened length. He was scorching hot, a stark, shocking contrast to the icy temperature of his skin everywhere else. He felt like iron wrapped in velvet, pulsing with a heavy, predatory heartbeat of its own.
Kaelen groaned—a deep, demonic sound of submission that rattled my ribcage. His grip on the back of my neck tightened, anchoring me to him as he continued to drink, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward a fraction of an inch into my palm.
"Yes," I breathed, my hips shifting on the cold steel table.
I began to stroke him, my movements clumsy at first, fueled by the frantic energy of the venom, but quickly finding a steady, agonizingly slow rhythm. I used the natural slickness of my own sweat and the sheer heat radiating from him. I wanted to break his control. I wanted the cold, calculating King to shatter in the hands of the human he had bought.
As I worked my hand up and down his impressive length, the hollow ache between my own thighs became unbearable. The venom demanded friction. It demanded release.
I pulled myself closer to the edge of the surgical table. I dragged my hips forward until my aching, wet center was pressed flush against the thick, muscular column of his bare thigh.
The rough texture of his tactical trousers had been pushed down, exposing the dense, cold muscle of his leg. I pressed myself against him, crying out at the sudden, intense friction.
"Please," I sobbed, losing my mind to the high, my hand moving faster around his rigid shaft, my hips grinding desperately against his thigh.
Kaelen tore his mouth from my neck. His fangs were fully extended, dripping with my blood. His eyes were completely black, wide and wild with a lust that had survived five centuries. He looked down at me—at my bare chest heaving, my hand wrapped around him, my hips bucking against his leg in a desperate, shameless display of need.
He didn't stop me. He encouraged it.
He reached down, his large, blood-stained hand grabbing my hip, holding me firmly against his thigh so I could find the exact angle I needed. His other hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back to expose the bloody, swollen bite mark he had just claimed.
"Ride it, Seraphina," he snarled, his voice a ragged, filthy command that shattered the last of my inhibitions. "Take what you need from the monster. Bleed for me. Ache for me."
"Kaelen!" I screamed, my head throwing back.
The friction against his hard, muscular thigh was perfect. Every time I stroked his immense length, my own hips drove downward, creating a devastating loop of pleasure. The venom in my blood magnified every nerve ending, turning the cold air, the hard steel, and his icy skin into a symphony of overwhelming sensation.
He thrust his hips forward into my grip, his control finally snapping. His breathing turned into harsh, ragged gasps. I squeezed my hand tighter, feeling the heavy, thick pulse of his climax building beneath my fingers.
"You are ruined for anyone else, Seraphina," he growled, a terrifying, guttural rumble that vibrated through his thigh and straight into my core. "Do you understand? Ruined."
The orgasm hit me like a freight train. I shattered into a million pieces, my body convulsing violently on the surgical table. I cried out his name, my nails digging into his waist, my core clenching in wave after wave of blinding, venom-laced ecstasy.
At that exact moment, Kaelen let out a deafening, demonic roar. He drove his hips forward, burying himself entirely in my grip, and emptied himself into my hand with violent, heavy pulses. The sheer force of his release made his massive frame shudder, his head dropping forward to rest heavily on my shoulder as he rode out the climax.
For a long time, the only sounds in the lab were the hum of the centrifuges and the frantic, echoing gasps of our shared breath.
I lay back on the cold steel, utterly ruined, my chest heaving, my hand covered in the warm, sticky evidence of the Dragon's release. The high of the venom was slowly leveling out, leaving behind a heavy, languid warmth that made my limbs feel like liquid lead.
The memory of David's assault was gone. Overwritten. Burned away by the absolute, devastating dominance of Kaelen Vane.
Slowly, Kaelen lifted his head. The blackness was receding from his eyes, the emerald returning, sharp and clear. He looked down at the mess we had made. He looked at my bare breasts, flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat. He looked at the blood drying on my neck, and finally, he looked at my hand.
He didn't look guilty. He looked entirely, terrifyingly victorious.
He reached over to a tray, grabbed a sterile surgical towel, and gently wiped my hand clean. His touch was precise, almost reverent, a stark contrast to the absolute filth of what we had just done in a sterile medical facility.
He adjusted his clothing, pulling his zipper up with a sharp, decisive motion that signaled the return of the mafia King.
He grabbed my torn lab coat from the floor and draped it over me, covering my exposed body.
"The withdrawal will not hit you as hard this time," Kaelen said, his voice returning to that smooth, cool baritone, though it was slightly deeper, raspier than before. "The venom is stabilized in your system."
I pulled the coat around me, sitting up slowly, my body still humming with aftershocks. "Why did you let me do that?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "You could have taken me. You could have finished it."
Kaelen leaned in, resting his hands on the edge of the steel table on either side of my hips, trapping me once again.
"Because, Dr. Laurent," he murmured, his eyes locking onto mine, "if I had taken you inside this lab, while you were terrified and high on my blood, you would have convinced yourself in the morning that I forced you. You would have analyzed it as a trauma response."
He reached up, his thumb brushing over my swollen, bruised lower lip.
"But this?" he whispered, a dark, wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You begging for my bite? You unzipping my trousers and using my body to find your own release? This was your choice. You cannot blame the monster for this, Seraphina. You can only blame your own dark heart."
He stepped back, the cold air rushing in to fill the space he left behind.
"Clean yourself up," he commanded, his tone shifting back to the ruthless employer. "The men have been given strict orders. The entire West Wing is a kill zone for anyone but me. You are safe here."
He turned and walked toward the ruined doors of the lab.
"But do not think for a moment that this changes your objective," Kaelen added, pausing at the threshold without looking back. "You have exactly the last twenty-four hours to synthesize a new binder that does not turn my army into rabid dogs. If you fail, the venom I just gave you will be the last comfort you ever know."
He walked out into the dark corridor, leaving me alone in the freezing lab.
I sat on the edge of the surgical table, clutching the lab coat around my aching, fiercely satisfied body.
He was right. I couldn't blame him. I had asked for the poison. I had pulled the trigger.
I was officially in love with the drug, and I was dangerously close to falling in love with the dealer.