Page 49 of His Eternal Temptation

“I don’t think I can drink another drop, so yes. But I have a feeling if I hadn’t bitten you, it wouldn’t have been an issue.”

“There’s no issue.”

“There is if a pleasure bite stoked my hunger. That’s not supposed to happen.”

Worry lines deepened on Lane’s brow. “I don’t like how much the curse is affecting you. Maybe resolidifying our link will help? We’re already halfway there.”

“We can try.” Rowan unbuttoned his shirt sleeve, hit by a pang of disappointment at not sharing his blood solely for the intimacy of the act. “I’d like your lips on my neck, too.”

Lane ran a finger from Rowan’s ear to his collarbone, the heat of a blush following in its wake. “How can I without my own fangs?”

The image of Lane as a vampire filled Rowan’s mind, and longing exploded deep within him. Would Lane ever want to transform?

He pushed the desire aside and pulled a small knife from the top desk drawer. “I’ll bleed myself for you, but you can bite if you want.”

“Won’t it hurt?”

“Not at all. If you hesitate too long, the wound will close before you even taste me.”

Lane kissed him. “Go on then. Let’s see if this helps.”

Rowan smiled more sappily than he liked, and pricked his skin with the knife. Lane leaned in and covered the spot with his lips, latching on like he was giving a hickey. Rowan’s pulse skipped at the gentleness of Lane’s claiming, and Lane hummed, his hold tightening on Rowan as if he’d sensed the jump in rhythm.

Such a delicate touch, and Rowan never wanted him to let go.

THIRTEEN

LANE

Lane felt Rowan shudder beneath him, his lips sealed around the cut on Rowan’s neck. He wanted to linger, but unease at Rowan’s returned hunger kept him from getting lost in the moment.

He kissed the hollow of Rowan’s throat. “Did that help?”

Rowan’s hand tangled in Lane’s hair. “Yes. Not with my hunger, but…”

Lane waited. No further explanation came as the cut healed. Lane kissed the smooth skin and moved on. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

He dressed quickly and pulled Rowan over to the couch. He seemed happy to continue following Lane’s lead for now, so Lane pulled Rowan against him, settling Rowan’s head on his chest, and held him.

Rowan melted against him, along with all the tension in his body. Lane couldn’t say how long they sat in each other’s arms. Rowan’s willingness to linger in the moment was a pleasant surprise.

Maybe it was easier for Rowan to accept comfort and non-sexual touch after they’d gotten off, or perhaps he was more comfortable with Lane than he’d been that morning. Lane didn’t need to know which, if either, was the case. He didn’t need to talk about this, at least not now. He was content to bask in Rowan, to hold him and let the day slip by.

The spell of comfort was broken by a loud buzzing from the vicinity of the desk.

“My phone.” Rowan picked himself up, ran a hand through his tousled hair, and adjusted his cuffs—melding into the vampire leader everyone knew—before retrieving the device. He frowned at the screen. “Nicole wants to see us immediately.”

“Did she say why?”

“No, but I can’t imagine it’s anything other than the curse. She and Vera want us in the clinic. Maybe they’ve worked out a counter.”

Lane hoped so, even as questions about what would happen next swirled around in his mind.

They headed to the clinic without another word. Were Rowan’s thoughts drifting in a similar direction? His impassive nature was in full force now that their intimate interlude was over, and there was no way to know without asking.

“Vera and I are ready to break the curse,” Nicole said as soon as Lane and Rowan arrived.

“Excellent.” Rowan’s attention fell on Hunter, who stood to one side. “What’s the risk?”