Page 120 of The Cannibal

He grabbed my face, our lips crashing together as he savored the taste. His lips were hungry, desperate. Feral and breathless. The only way he knew how to release the tension was to relish in it. The violence of his heart was felt through each touch, each bite of my lip.

My body could melt right there and drip through his fingers.

One hand dropped to my waist to circle my lower back and the other caressed the back of my head.

“Silas.” His name escaped as I caught my breath, but he didn’t stop.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Silas.”

“Say it louder for all to hear.” It was less of a demand and more of a plea. “You won’t be able to help yourself when I’m finished with you.”

Just the words made me dizzy. My rational brain knew we had to stop, but at that moment, the absurdist in me didn’t care.

His hands on my body, his lips on my skin, his heart in my palm. It was all too tempting between rising temperatures and strained words.

He sucked gently on the skin under my jaw, dragging his lip down my throat before moving to the nape of my neck.

“I could mark you all sorts of ways and I still wouldn’t be satisfied,” he breathed. “Not a day went by where I didn’t want to forget myself and be with you while you slept.”

“You talk too much of the past,” I whispered to him, my nails dragging along his scalp as my lips brushed against his ear. “Take me now or forever hold your peace.”

Such a dizzying thought. My stomach rattled with bats just thinking about such a Creature being left in agony without me—mind, body, and soul. But all of me was his, and his alone. As much as I resisted these years, they were always his. I just wanted him to take them.

My savior was the monster to sweep me away from misery, from the idle life expected of me. My Creature was my liberation. And I, his curse breaker.

Shadows danced across the floor, coming from the populated rooms.

“What if someone sees?”

“All the better.” He switched our positions, pushing my chest and cheek to the wall. Silas’s hips pressed into mine. His nose buried in my hair, a deep inhale as his hands marveled in the fabric at my waist.

I turned around again, wrapping my arms around his neck with my nails in his back.

“Not in the mood?” he teased, kissing my lips before moving back to my neck.

“As much as I’d love to take advantage of one of your moods, I believe we have a dinner to attend,” I said against his lips. “Can you wait until tonight? I’ll even let you chase me if it’ll entice the appetite.”

A smirk played on his lips, our bodies swayed almost drunkenly, except without liquor. “I’ll hold you to it. I can’t promise I won’t make a bloody mess of you on the floor.”

“It’s a date,” I said against his lips, moving away as he leaned in to capture them again, like dangling a carrot to get a stallion back in the stable.

Cutting our fun short only meant we could savor it later. Besides, it’s never good to do business while in such an agitated state. For now, we had guests to attend to. Our guests in our home.

What a more perfect ending to a night than a bit of music and winding down with a glass of wine. We were well into the evening, all events proceeding as expected. All should be gone by at least one in the morning. Breakfast was scheduled nearly for noon. Supposedly this was normal for polite society. It did make me wonder if this practice was because rich people had nowhere to be in the morning or if it was started by the sleepless Vipera, who only needed a good rest every three days.

The distractions of the day not only drained me, they distracted me enough to realize how little energy I had left. Hunger was a default now, not even keeping my mouth busy with bloodwine or soup could hold me much longer.

The daze of the night wasn’t helping to lift the fog from my mind, yet it felt quite good to be in such bliss. The thoughts slipped from my brain like silk upon skin.

I stood at the top of the stairs to watch the people moving around the grand entrance, scattered among the social nooks. Some moved to the middle for a small dance when certain songs played on the phonograph. The entire evening was romantic. I didn’t believe the ones putting us on trial deserved such treatment, but I couldn’t argue with customs of a culture I was barely a part of.

As I leaned on the banister, a figure came up behind me. I leaned my back against a chest, hands around my waist as absinthe danced on my tongue with each taste from the crystal glass.

I took a deep breath, the smell of cinnamon and cognac confusing me at first. Smoky notes of leather with only the lightest hint of sweetness. Scents that you may find from something old and freshly uncorked.

A tremble raced down my spine.