Page 119 of The Bonds of Indigo

“Ah! Kayn!”

The pain snaps down my spine and straight into my sciatic. It hurts—so violently that instinct takes over and I reach for his head, trying to pull him back. He doesn’t budge. Not an inch. And for one delirious second, I’m convinced people are certifiably insane for wanting this. For romanticizing this level of suffering.

But then, he draws my blood into his mouth.

I don’t just moan. I scream. Pure, unfiltered euphoria ripping right out of me. The sound ricochets off the tile and fills the room, echoing back into my own ears. My entire body ignites, boiling from the inside out, and the second his hand brushes my skin I’m arching into him, desperate and unrestrained.

My leg lifts on instinct, hooking around his hip like my body has already made the decision for me.

I’ve never known true bliss until this moment. I’m lightheaded, and it’s like I’ve just ridden out an orgasm—bright Sprites bursting across my vision. Even the last time I had any stimulation between my thighs that I wanted doesn’t compare to this. Not even close.

“Oh… oh Gods, Kayn.” My voice is thin and strained, and only then do I realize I’m barely breathing. I’m holding it—chasing that high, that dizzy crest where I know I’m going to come. The tightness in my stomach coils tighter and tighter as he groans against my skin and draws another pull of my blood into his body.

“Please…” I whimper. “More, more, more.”

I hadn’t even noticed his hands—one gripping my ass, anchoring me to him, the other threaded firmly through my hair at my scalp. My fingers have lost their hold on him entirely; my arms hang loosely around his neck and I trust in him not to let me fall.

I push through the bond, begging him not to stop. Telling him I want him to drain me dry if it will make me feel like this until my heart can’t beat on its own.

But he leans back.

The slide of his fangs withdrawing sends a violent tremor through my entire body, and I cannot believe myself but I’m pretty sure I whine.

I’m too bliss-soaked to know if it was a whine or a moan, but either way, the moment he’s no longer feeding, I’m empty.

When he comes back into view, he’s grinning so beautifully that the blood smeared across his mouth and down his beard only makes him look more devastating.

“I’ll have more of you,” he says, low and sultry, “but slowly. Now, time to feast between your thighs.”

Reality hits me like a physical blow, a hand slapping straight across my face telling me to wake the fuck up.

“Wait.”

He rolls his eyes, and it’s actually cute, but I can’t let that distract me. I open my mouth to explain, but he shoves two fingers between my lips and grips my chin.

“If you’re about to say, ‘I haven’t shaved’ or some dumb shit like that,” he warns, voice a delicious growl, “I’m going to spank you. I truly do not give a fuck, Amarah.”

A pit opens in the center of my chest.

“It’s not that.”

“Gods, this bond is both infuriating and incredible.” He spreads his fingers against my tongue, stretching my lips apart just enough to make my breath hitch. “Let me make you come first, little slayer. Then we’ll take this to the bed where I fully intend to watch you choke on my cock.”

Yup. I definitely whimper this time.

He moves so fast, from withdrawing his fingers to dropping to his knees, that I don’t have the chance to protest. All I can do is hold my breath and brace.

Time stops.

Even the water doesn’t reach my ears. All I hear is my own racing heart.

I’ve never cared what my body looked like in the penitentiary. Never thought anyone I’d want to see me would ever get the chance. The ones who mutilated me—I never wanted to look appealing to them. So once it all healed into scars, I never bothered to care.

But now?

Now, I’m terrified.

I hear him release a slow breath, and then he rises, coming back up in front of me. I’ve seen him angry, but this… this is a silent rage. His eyes are half-lidded, his shoulders rigid. I know it isn’t aimed at me, but instinct has me pressing myself tighter against the wall.