A Taste of Crimson by Marjorie Liu

Author:Marjorie Liu
Language: eng
Format: epub

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Chapter Fourteen

He wanted to drown himself in her salty sweet scent, the soft creamy warmth of her pink skin, drown himself in sleep, dream away his life, free of nightmare and pain and sorrow. He pressed his lips to her neck, tasting her hot pulse, licking the sweet spot of her throat.

“You going to bite me?” Keeli asked drowsily. There was no rancor in her voice, no fear or recrimination. Just a question. Simple. Michael ran the tips of his fangs over her skin. She shivered.

He pulled away, suddenly uneasy. Keeli opened her eyes, looking him full in the face. Her eyes were strong, clear, blue as crystal sky. She touched his face, fingers tracing the tattoo in his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

He began to shake his head, but stopped. “I haven’t taken blood from a person for a long time. It feels… wrong to me. Dangerous.”

She studied him, with her fingers still dancing, whirling lovely patterns. “Why?”

“Why?” It was difficult talking to her like this; it was more intimate than he could have imagined, as though his soul were laid open, his pain and insecurity tangible enough to taste. He did not pull away, though. He controlled his terror of her deep-seeing eyes, and said, “Because there was a time when I took too much, when I was not… myself. People died.”

Her eyes did not change. “Are you sorry?”

“Yes,” he breathed. Sorry was inadequate. Sorry would never be enough.

She said nothing, and Michael waited, locked tight within her gaze, desperate for some answer, even more desperate for silence. Better that, than hearing words that would kill.

In the end, Keeli gave him silence, but it was not what he expected. She wrapped her arms and legs around his body, drawing him into a tight, soul-reaching hug that did not ease in potency or strength, even after long minutes passed into the quiet rhythm of their beating hearts.

“Who would have thought?” she finally whispered. She brushed her fingers through his hair.

“Thought what?” he murmured, savoring her gentle touch. In all his life, all the centuries left dull and dead behind him, he had never felt so comfortable, so at ease. So at home.

“This,” she said. “All of this. I never imagined.”

Michael wrapped his arms around her body and turned them. Books scattered, pressed hard into his side. He ran one hand up her thigh, caressing the crease of her backside. Keeli smiled, snuggling closer. His hand trailed into her bunched-up skirt, which rode up her waist, bumping her breasts.

“You do like it fast,” he said.

“I like it slow too,” she said.

He laughed, and she kissed him. “I like that even better,” she breathed against his lips. “Do it again.”

He laughed, low, and it was easy. Easy, because it was Keeli in his arms, that smile on her pink mouth. He slid out of her body, and she looked down between them. She stilled, her smile fading.

“You didn’t use a condom.”

Michael blinked. Did he even carry them? “I—no. I forgot.”

“So did I.

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