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“Y-yes,” I managed to say.

“Excellent. Now, I cannot say I have a perfect recollection, but instinct tells me …” His mouth left mine, and I made a mewing sound of loss. His lips moved over the line of my throat, down my neck to my collarbone. My hands slid over his shoulders, feeling their strength as his head lowered below my shoulders and his mouth brushed one breast.

I started with shock, nipples turning to rock-hard pebbles instantly at the contact. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” he murmured. “I must say, it is an absolute crime you were alone in your room all those nights.” His lips drew one nipple into his mouth, and he sucked.

Goosebumps swept over my body. “Bloodmaiden,” I gasped.

“Let’s leave her out of this, shall we? I want to taste you everywhere. But I also don’t want to leave any part of you for any length of time whatsoever.”

“A quandary, to be sure,” I breathed.

He stroked one hand over my other breast, his palm cupping it gently, then rubbed his thumb over the nipple. “Your breasts are divine,” he whispered. “And yet …” He leaned back from me, looking my body up and down. “I do think we must …” He pushed me backward gently. I started to fall.

“Nyxaris!” I felt a wing catch me. I was scooped up, just above the ground.

“Now, there’s a use for these things I haven’t tried,” he mused.

I doubted that greatly. Something told me that Nyxaris was once an adept lover. I felt a slight pang of jealousy as I imagined what he would soon remember about his former life—and those he had spent it with. How many women had he laid back against his wing? How many nipples had he licked? I didn’t care. I didn’t want to know, I decided. He was here with me now. This was happening now. I wouldn’t dare turn coward.

His hands slid down my sides—as did his mouth. Leaving my breasts forlorn, his tongue slid along the curves of my stomach, tracing my navel briefly, teasingly, before moving to my hip bones. I froze. This was a terrible idea. This wasn’t me; I wasn’t meant for this. I was too skinny. Too plain. Too inexperienced. Too … too Florence.

Nyxaris’s head jerked up. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” I said guiltily.

“You tensed. Whatever anxious thoughts you’re thinking, I demand you stop thinking them this instant,” he said sternly.

It was reassuring to know he wasn’t in my head. Because if he was … well, that would be even more humiliating. Besides, that wasn’t really how it worked. But I wasn’t about to argue.

“How did you know I was?”

“Because, Fireheart, you repeatedly and consistently underestimate yourself. Well,” he said fiercely, “do not underestimate this. My desire for you is a fire, and I will quench it. Do you understand?”

“I think—”

“No.” His voice was sharper. “I don’t think you do. But you will.”

Then his mouth was back on me, and I was aflame. He licked between my legs—where no one had ever touched me before. The heat was sweet. The heat was bliss. One of his hands moved languidly up to my breast as I writhed on his wing. He lapped at the valley between my thighs—lathing his tongue over my clit as if it were his oasis in a barren desert. I was on fire, pleasure spiking through my veins, washing over me. There were no words for how good it felt. His tongue moved lower, and he thrust inside of me—stretching his tongue like a serpent, snaking deep into me, as his fingers replaced his tongue on my clit, stroking expertly. My hips rocked, thighs slipping open wider, shamelessly lifting to his mouth, desperate for him to slide deeper inside, to take me more fully.

His fingers were gentle, moving like feathers over my throbbing center. My body began to jerk. I cried out, pressing my hands against his wing to steady myself. Mounting pleasure exploded inside me. “Nyxaris!”

I broke into a thousand pieces, hot and cold all at once. Completely undone—and then completely whole. I slid down the wing, my body limp and listless, and he caught me in his arms, cradling me against him as the bliss began to subside.

“That was …” I felt drunk. Dizzy.

“That was merely the beginning,” he said, with an arrogance only a dragon could possess. Gently he spun me around, then pulled me back against him, his cock settling against my bottom. He pushed my hair out of his way, then settled his mouth against one side of my neck, suckling and biting gently, then cupping my breasts with his hands.

“What are you—?” I began to say.

“I will not feed from you, Fireheart. I have sworn it.”

I knew that—I didn’t doubt him. Yet, part of me wanted him to. What would it feel like if he sank his fangs into the soft skin of my neck? What sort of pleasure would it be?

“But you must be hungry,” I said weakly. “You must need to feed.”

“I long to taste you. All of you. But I am not so weak-willed as to lust for merely your blood. I wish to give you pleasure, not merely take.”