Page 69 of May: Bloom & Bane

He studies my face for a heartbeat and nods, pressing a final kiss to my forehead. “Don’t be too long. I thought I could wash your body… with my tongue.” He smiles so big his eyes crinkle at the corners.

The bathroom door closes with a gentle creak, followed by the hiss of water.

The hunger from the meadow pulls at me again.

Just one look, I tell myself.

My bare feet are silent on the warm wooden floor. The morning air is cool against my skin as I step outside. The meadow stretches before me, mist clinging to the grass. At the edge of the clearing is a tall, antlered figure. The hunger crashes into me so hard I drop to one knee.

“Stop,” a voice rasps. “Please stop walking toward me.”

I can feel the tension radiating from him. “Why?”

“Because the closer you get—” His voice cracks. “The hungrier I become.”

I stay on one knee, the damp grass soaking into my dress.

“You’re starving,” I whisper. “How long?”

His jaw tightens.

“How long have you felt like this?”

He flinches, his antlers casting long, gnarled shadows against the mist.

“Always.”

I stand up, compelled by the ache in my chest, taking slow steps toward him until there’s no more than a foot between us.

“How do I make it stop?”

Conflict rolls off him. His head tilts, his eyes, dark pits of infinite longing, fixated on where my pulse jumps in my neck.

The tips of blood-stained fangs peek out from his lips. The hunger in my stomach spikes so sharply I gasp. For a creature who’s never been able to feel enough of anything, the blood of someone who feels everything is probably the closest he’ll ever get to sustenance.

My fingers tremble as I pull back the sleeve of my gown, exposing the fair, blue-veined skin of my wrist.

“Is this it?” I whisper. “Is this what you need?”

He lets out a groan, stepping back from me.

“If I taste you, I am not sure I will ever be able to let you go.”

“Then just a little,” I whisper. “Just enough to help. I won’t let you take too much.”

“You don’t understand.” His voice cracks. “Once I start, the hunger inside of me will demand everything. Your blood. Your life. Your soul.”

“I don’t believe that,” I murmur. “I trust you to stop.”

His eyes widen. “Why?”

“Because I can feel you,” I breathe. “And underneath all that hunger, you don’t want to hurt me. You’re terrified of hurting me.”

His hand catches my wrist, his long fingers shaking as they wrap around my forearm.

“Just one taste,” he whispers, more to himself than to me. “Just enough so I know what it’s like to finally be full.”

He brings my wrist to his mouth, his breath hot against my skin. The sharp points of his fangs graze my pulse, and my heart hammers.