Of Silk and Steam
Page 62

Mina forgot how to breathe.
“You need blood,” he said. “And with your wounds, mine will give you more of what you need than anything human.”
Her gaze shot to his, her heart stumbling a little. His blood. She’d never once taken from the vein. It was socially unacceptable for a woman, and more than that, she liked being in control of her own blood-lust.
“No, no, it’s fine. If you just fetch me…” Her voice trailed off as he withdrew the small, leather-bound fléchette case from inside his shirt. Mina swallowed. She could still feel the imprint of his hands on the inside of her knees. “What are you doing?”
He opened the case and selected a sharp blood-letting razor. Setting it aside, he began to roll up his sleeve, the veins on the inside of his wrists pulsing. Oh God. Mina’s tongue darted over her lips, her gaze focusing on the pale skin of his forearm.
“Do I have any choice in this?” she demanded.
“Of course.” Barrons set the razor to his skin, slicing sharply across the vein. Blood welled, the almost bluish color that gave blue bloods their name. Putting the razor down, he caught her gaze. “You can choose not to drink it.”
Hardly a choice at all. She could scent it now, her mouth watering as she twisted in her bonds. The wound at her side pulled, reminding her of her weakness. Cursing him, Mina stilled, looking up once more. A hot, wicked flush started burning deep within, the scent of her arousal flavoring the air.
Barrons’s expression tightened, as if he too were aware of it. Stepping between her spread legs, he looked down at her for a long moment, then held his wrist out, blood spilling into the hollow of his palm. Barrons’s nostrils flared, but he held himself still, waiting for her to take what he offered.
“Damn you.” The world was nothing but shadows. Something swelled up within her: a need so fierce she’d never felt it before.
Blood-lust.
It wasn’t the same as sipping her blood from a champagne flute or lacing her brandy with it. Mina bit her lip, focusing on that dark splash. He rested a boot between her parted thighs and leaned on it, holding the bloodied slash closer to her, tendons clenching in his forearm as if she wasn’t the only one fighting personal demons.
“Your choice.” A mocking whisper.
Mina looked up, seeing the dare in those devil-black eyes, the intensity in his expression. He wanted this as much as she did.
So be it. Mina leaned forward, her tongue darting out to trace the small, already-healing slash. She never took her eyes off him.
The taste of it exploded through her body. A breathy gasp and then she bent her head and pressed her lips against the cut, her dry throat working. Moaning a little. Pulling that sweetness inside her body. Drowning in its volcanic heat.
Sensation cascaded through her and her thighs clenched, locking around his boot. Rubbing against it until he drew back, straightening and circling behind her, leaving her with only his wrist pressed against her lips. It wasn’t enough. She pressed her knees together tightly, fighting the building ache between her thighs, an ache that wouldn’t go away, building like the pressure of a storm front. It left her restless, her teeth sinking into the tender flesh of his forearm as she sucked hard, hoping that he burned just as much as she did.
Barrons’s fist clenched. A swift jerk on the back of the chair and she tilted backward, her lips breaking from his skin in a shocked gasp.
He leaned down, claiming her mouth with his own, tasting the blood there. One fist in her hair. A strange upside-down kiss that made her restless again, her hips shifting on the seat and her nipples hardening. More. Oh God, she wanted more.
Then his hand was moving down her body, sliding over her breast and lower. Teasing across her stomach, between her thighs, pressing hard there. Mina cried out and his tongue plunged into her mouth. He was merciless. Absolutely, single-mindedly merciless. Two fingers rode over her sensitive flesh until she was rubbing against him herself, determined to bring that storm cresting over her.
Mina’s thighs clenched around his hand. Suddenly there was a hand over her mouth and she came with a scream, her hands jerking against her bonds, her entire body rigid.
Then his hand was gone and the world came into focus again, slightly blurred around the edges. He was saying something. Harsh words delivered right next to her ear. Mina sucked in a sharp breath, her body still molten. Still twitching in places.
“…Do you want to know the damnable truth, Duchess? No matter how much I want to walk away, to let you leave, I can’t do it.” His hand caught her throat, tilting her head back and pinning her there, balanced on the edge of the precipice. Black eyes blazed in the center of her vision. “You enthrall me. I feel my heart beating and it’s all you, you, you.”
You. Mina’s eyes shot wide as his face lowered. That dangerous mouth closed over hers again, tongue thrusting past her lips and teeth, forcing the kiss upon her.
The thin veneer of civility washed away, drowning her in a man that was more primal than rational. This…this was what the craving meant, what lust meant. This was the choice he’d offered, one that she hadn’t anticipated.
And one that undid her.
Yes. She made that choice again, with her whole body screaming the word. Past time for games, for fear. Tiptoeing around each other for years, because maybe a part of her had always known it would be like this. Consumed. Stripped bare. All that she was, offered up to him on a platter.
Then he was coming up for air, breathing hard. “I hate the hold you have on me.”
More shocking words, an honesty of sorts. It seemed sacrilegious not to reply in kind. “No, you don’t,” she whispered. “You would love it, if only you too had such a hold on me.”
All four feet of the chair hit the floor, jerking her forward. Breathing hard, half-dazed, she collapsed against her bonds, shuddering in every nerve of her body.
Boot heels echoed on the timber floor. Barrons circled her slowly in a dangerous prowl. Blackened eyes locked on hers. Leaning down, he caught the edge of the chair seat and dragged her forward until her knees hit his. Control was a knife edge within him.
Slowly he reached out, hands tugging the pins from her hair and scattering them disdainfully until it tumbled loosely down her back. Barrons twisted her hair into a rope, then wrapped it around her throat, the ends of it tickling her jaw.
“And do I not have such a hold?” Soft, dangerous words.