Touching Embers : (Touch Saga Book 3) by Airicka Phoenix

Author:Airicka Phoenix [Phoenix, Airicka]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Airicka Phoenix
Published: 2021-08-12T23:00:00+00:00

I lay entwined in her arms that night, listening to the soft sound of her breathing. The usually gentle cadence was interrupted by a raspy rattle deep in her chest, a low whine of an injured animal. Her pain ate at me. It consumed my sanity. It was all I could do to keep from opening a vein and trickling the blood into her mouth.

Stubborn girl. She would be the end of me.

“Isaiah?”

Her quiet murmur jarred me back. I tugged her closer.

“I’m here.”

She shifted and glided, propelling her body over mine. Her long, naked legs hugged my hips. Satin coils unspooled across my face and spilled over my chest.

“Hungry,” she whimpered against my throat. “Need you. Please.”

Noire.

I knew it even before her fangs sank into flesh. I knew it and I didn’t fight. I let her drink. I let her pin my hands to the pillow and inject me with the sweet, toxic poison that coursed through me every time. The drug that made me willing to do anything she asked to have more.

She moaned, a deep and primitive sound of pleasure that vibrated over my skin where her mouth was latched. I felt it all the way to my toes with the same violence as the deliberate rock of her body over mine. I swore and struggled not to react.

“Stop,” I rasped, drawing the line; I would give her my blood because Fallon needed it, but nothing else.

“It’s me.”

Wheezing, her head came up. In the darkness, I could just make out the glisten of blood around her mouth and down her chin, but it was her eyes I focused on.

Sensing my uncertainty, she reached up and snapped the overhead lights on, spilling a dull, yellow glow over us.

“Fallon?”

Her eyes were dark, but not Noire dark. They held me in place just long enough to assure me it was her before moving down my chest with a single, graphic mission in mind.

“Why?” I asked several minutes later while we lay in a tangle of exhausted limbs. “What changed your mind?”

“I didn’t,” she whispered. “I woke up mid-drink. I couldn’t stop.”

“And the rest?”

The heat of her cheeks burned my chest where she had her head pillowed. “Goodnight, Isaiah.”

I let her slip back into a calmer slumber. At that moment, I realized that, while I may not have known myself the way most men did, there was one thing I did know without a shadow of a doubt and that was that I was created to protect her. What was more important than that?

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