Page 26 of His Eternal Temptation

Rowan’s glowing eyes fluttered closed, and his wrist flexed beneath Lane’s lips. He seemed to go lax, his posture sagging, bringing him closer to Lane.

Lane suppressed a moan.

“Good, I think that’s enough,” Rowan said, rough as gravel, tugging on Lane’s hair. “Stop now.”

Lane pulled off, his lips smeared with blood. He wiped his mouth, blood now coating his fingertips. “Sorry,” he stammered, unsure why he was apologizing. He hadn’t taken this too far, had he? It wasn’t as if Rowan could read his mind.

“It’s fine.” Rowan’s eyes glowed bright, his gaze fixed on Lane’s bloody fingers. He reached for Lane’s wrist. “May I?”

Lane offered it, and Rowan’s hand curled around him, warm on oversensitive skin, the touch painfully delicate. The last of the space between them seemed to evaporate, and Rowan brought Lane’s fingers—not his wrist—to his lips. Lane’s pulse thudded, and his breath caught as Rowan licked his blood from his skin, carefully caressing each finger with little kitten licks.

The hair on Lane’s arms raised, sending shivers along his spine. He had an overwhelming urge to shove three fingers between Rowan’s lips and tell him to suck.

Before Lane lost his mind completely, Rowan pulled away. His fangs caught the light, and the sharp angles of his face seemed to soften, his glowing eyes full of warmth.

He ran a thumb over Lane’s pulse point. “Relax.”

Lane couldn’t. Nothing short of hypnosis would bring his thundering heart under control.

Rowan could probably hear it—giving all of Lane’s feelings away—and realized calming down wasn’t in the cards because he didn’t wait any longer. His fangs plunged into Lane’s wrist with a sharp prick. Lane couldn’t contain his gasp. It wasn’t excruciating, but it didn’t feel like a needle either. He grabbed Rowan’s hip, squeezing reflexively, trying to ground himself so he wouldn’t make a sound.

A pulling sensation tugged within his veins, and his heart hammered faster. This shouldn’t be arousing, and it wasn’t, at least not in the way Lane had heard vampire bites could be. There was no physical sensation of pleasure where Rowan bit him, no full-body sensation at all, but the knowledge that they were joined, Rowan’s fangs inside him, consuming him, made Lane dizzy.

If he wrapped his hand around his dick, he’d have no trouble getting hard.

Rowan groaned, the noise undeniably sexual. Did he sound the same when he sucked cock? Rowan’s throat worked, his fingers tightening, eyes closed like he was enjoying himself. He’d had more than the two swallows he’d permitted Lane.

“Rowan?” Lane hadn’t meant to whisper.

His eyes flew open. With a growl, he withdrew his fangs, keeping Lane’s wrist close. His tongue lashed out, healing the wound with steady swipes. Gone were the kitten licks from earlier, so why did it feel like he was doing something intimate? Come to think of it, why the hell had he licked Lane’s fingers clean? Why had Lane let him?

Rowan’s downcast face didn’t hide the look of hunger in his glowing eyes. Was this bloodlust? Regular lust? Something else?

The glow snuffed out, and Rowan cleared his throat, turning swiftly away. “I apologize. That was… I forgot myself.” When he faced Lane again, he was as unreadable as ever.

Lane fought with disappointment. He had no right to want more from this than being kept alive. No right to want Rowan’s vulnerability, his feelings and thoughts. His desire.

It was crushing.

Lane’s eyes were tired from reading by the time he and Rowan met with Nicole that evening, and he’d gained no unexpected insights. Nicole hadn’t made any progress either. She had high hopes for a meeting with another witch in the morning, but Lane couldn’t help his growing restlessness.

It itched like something burrowing under his skin. The word incurable was beginning to haunt him. What if Nicole couldn’t find a solution at all?

Rowan didn’t appear worried, but then, he’d been quiet and unreadable all afternoon, occupied with his phone and thoroughly ignoring Lane.

Would he notice if Rowan started to panic? Rowan claimed he wouldn’t let him die, but what if it meant being tied together…forever?

No, he wouldn’t think about that possibility yet.

Lane ate the dinner Rowan had delivered for him. Vampires could eat food even though they didn’t need to, but Rowan didn’t join him. After his meal and more fruitless reading, Lane got ready for bed. It was early, but he was exhausted, and if the spell books would put him to sleep, he might as well have his head on a pillow.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Rowan had finally vacated the uncomfortable, old-fashioned chair. He stood by the dresser, taking off his shirt.

Swallowing an apology—Lane wasn’t intruding when he had no choice about being here—he grabbed the book he’d been reading and slipped into bed. Lane wore nothing but his underwear and regretted not asking for pajamas.

This was too weird. Too domestic.

Rowan had his back turned and gave no indication he noticed Lane, even though he must have with his heightened senses. He hung his shirt and placed the hanger on a hat rack by the dresser, then shucked off his trousers and folded them neatly.