Rhyannon Byrd - Edge of Hunger

Grasping her chin, Ian pulled her back. “Eyes open, Molls. I want to see it happen. Want to watch your face when you go over.”

“ No …”

“Oh, yeah.” The words were gritty and thick with lust, with pleasure. “Stop fighting it.”

“You’ll leave me again,” she said quietly, her lashes lifting, revealing eyes that glistened with tears, the look in their mysterious depths making his breath catch, while something in his chest clenched with pain. In that moment, Ian had the strangest feeling that even though she was the one pinned to the floor, she held all the power, and there was nothing he could do to reclaim it.

Lowering his mouth to the moist hollow of her throat, he told her, “I won’t. I won’t leave you.”

She drew in a deep, shivery breath, clutching his back, her hands cool against the scalding heat of his body, and broke with his next down stroke, the tight, rhythmic pulses of her orgasm pulling him in, holding him, refusing to let him go. His tongue flicked against the damp heat of her skin, wanting the salty sweetness of her flesh, needing it…craving it, and the next thing he knew, his fangs were buried deep in the side of her throat, near her shoulder. A sharp, hoarse scream pierced the air, the roar of his heartbeat deafening and fast in his ears, while the warm, heady spill of her blood filled his mouth, thick and hot and seductively rich. This was what he craved. This claiming of both her blood and her body. It was the one thing that satisfied that gnawing emptiness in his soul. The one thing that made him feel almost at peace, as if he was right where he belonged.

The thick pleasure slipped down his throat, his mouth working with greedy intent against her skin, needing more…and more, the hunger growing more insatiable than it had been before, suddenly frightening him with its power, its urgency. Ian fought himself for what seemed like endless, drugging moments. Wicked, decadent pleasure pulsed heavily in every cell of his body. Finally, he managed to rip himself away, terrified he would drown in that dark, destructive burn of gratification and drain her dry.

Can’t… Can’t lose her .

Ian screwed his eyes shut against the haunting beauty of her blood spilling gently from the puncture wounds, slipping across the translucent glow of her skin.

“Shit… shit ,” he hissed, his fangs heavy within his gums, her taste exquisitely hot in his mouth, while his body slammed into her harder…faster. He wanted to run, to escape the uncomfortable knowledge sinking into his bones, but he kept his word, staying with her until the hot, blistering friction shoved him into his own raging explosion. He pulled free at the last second, erupting onto her pale stomach in hard, violent surges, the intensity of the orgasm all but destroying him, turning him inside out. He looked everywhere and nowhere—anywhere but at her face, in her eyes. He had no idea what’d he see there, and he was terrified of finding out.

“Ian,” she said softly, her voice hitching with emotion. “Don’t leave. Please. Not yet.”

He ground his jaw, not knowing what to say, how to give her what she needed. Comfort. Warmth. Caring. Those things were as foreign to him as color to a blind man.

You have to give her something, jackass .

“Molly,” he rasped, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I…” He tried to choke out an apology, an explanation, the words somehow strangled inside of him, and she lifted her hand, cupping his cheek in her cool, soft palm.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered, the look in her eyes so strangely tender, it scared the ever-loving hell out of him. “You don’t have to say anything, Ian. Just hold me.”

“Yeah. All right.” The simple words came out alarmingly shaky, his eyes suspiciously hot, the strange buzz of emotions slamming through him as terrifying as they were unfamiliar. There was more than just a beast awakening within him. The very fabric of his being, his personality, was being shifted, altered, molded into something new beneath the power of her hands.

He loathed it as much as he hungered for more, for everything she could give him. The rational part of his mind wanted to retreat, to escape the gauzy web of emotional overload closing in around him like a suffocating fog, but he held firm, unwilling to leave before giving her this one thing. He owed it to her after she’d given of herself so freely, so beautifully.

“Come on,” she teased, holding out her arms to him. “I promise I don’t bite.”

The corner of his mouth twitched with bitter humor, and he lowered himself over her, letting her take his weight, the delicious cushion of her body pressed against his own making him hiss, his fangs still heavy within his mouth, the exquisite taste of her blood lingering like a gift.

But it was her arms closing around him that undid him. That, and the way she suddenly smiled at him. Beautiful. Sweet. Shy and serene. So trusting, it blew his goddamn mind.

He should have known it was too good to last.

Her breath sucked in on a sharp gasp the second the dream began changing on him, the room melting away, like an acid trip gone bad. A blistering wind swept through the swaying pines, replacing the warmth of the fire, the carpet giving way to the fertile soil of the forest. The air was heavy, electric, the storm rolling in hard and fast.

“Ian!” Molly cried, her small nails digging into his arms, eyes huge within the startled expression of fear creeping over her face, the damp flush of satisfaction paling to ghostly white.

Ready to reassure her that everything was going to be okay, that he wouldn’t hurt her…that he’d protect her, he opened his mouth, when something cried out in the distance, like a wolf’s howl, but different. Harsher, thicker, grittier. Guttural and terrifying as hell.

“Fuck,” he snarled, sweeping his gaze from side to side. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, his body tense, ready for battle. Something was out there. Something evil. Something hungry.

Hating the helpless feeling of inevitability creeping over him, slimy and cold and slick, Ian scrambled to his feet, spinning in a circle. Panic clawed its way beneath his skin, digging painfully deep, shredding his confidence. “Go!” he barked at Molly, when she stumbled to her feet. Her pale body gleamed like a pearl beneath the ethereal streams of lavender moonlight, and it terrified him, how delicate and fragile she was. “Get the hell out of here!” he roared, knowing they were running out of time…that every moment she stayed with him put her life in danger.

Whatever was out there, it was closing in. Fast. And it wanted him.

She shook her head, chin lifting, and then her eyes suddenly went huge as she looked over his shoulder. He braced himself for the blow before it came, survival instincts surging into focus. Something heavy and thick slammed into him, taking him to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs at the same time Molly let out a bloodcurdling scream of terror.

“She’s going to scream like that when I fuck her stupid little brains out, just like that other useless bitch,” a grizzled voice rasped in his ear, the heavy weight of it pinning him to the ground, and Ian felt the stirring of that thing inside of him. Felt its growl breaking out of his chest, bleeding out in a feral sound of outrage and fury as the darkness rose beneath the fevered surface of his skin.

“ Casus ,” he snarled, the word surging up from the depths of his subconscious without any direction from his brain.