Page 60

Bellamy’s frown deepens. “Raina, what⁠—”

It’s dumb and reckless, but the vindictive part of me wants Drake to eat his words. “Actually.” I cut him off and hold up my wrist, batting my eyelashes. “I thought you might want a drink.”

The distraction works. Curiosity turns to desire.

Bellamy reaches for me, tentatively wrapping his fingers around my arm, almost like he’s worried I’ll attack him. He stares at where his skin meets mine and glances at Rowan, who simply shrugs. I don’t understand what he’s thinking, but he must decide he’ll take me up on the offer, because he reels me in.

His shadows wrap around me as well, pushing me toward him, their touch like a lover’s caress. Too intimate. “You sure you want to offer me a vein?”

My heart slams against my ribs. This is my chance to back out, to not let my pride lead the way, but I can’t help picturing the look on Drake’s face when Bellamy shares that he drank my blood. That’s enough to push me forward. “I’m sure.”

Rowan’s jaw clenches. A growl rumbles low in his chest. He’s seconds away from intervening, but I shake my head, and he releases a soft sigh, looking away.

“Does this hurt?” Bellamy’s lips brush over the inside of my wrist, drawing my attention. His eyes are as dark as mulled wine, but the edges glow as he breathes in, tongue flicking out to taste me.

“No, but I said you could drink my blood, not lick me,” I mutter.

His laugh sweeps over me, dark and sultry. “Maybe I can convince you to let me do both.”

An unfamiliar shiver rushes down my spine. This one isn’t born of terror, only dark interest that I should leash, but I’m mesmerized as the vampire places a heavy kiss over my veins. I shudder. Why does he have to make it so intimate?

His lips quirk at my response to his touch before he places his teeth against my wrist. His shadows encase me, surprisingly warm and soft, comforting despite the razor-sharp fangs ready to pierce my skin.

This must be some sort of vampire-specific magic. The ability to render their prey completely at their mercy. To turn them docile. The thoughts race through my head, but even still, I can’t dredge up the will to protest. Not when his gaze holds mine while his teeth sink into me.

The air in my lungs is suspended. My pulse is racing so hard, I’m certain it sounds like a drum, but as he takes his first sip of my blood, that all fades away. My mouth parts as pleasure unlike I’ve ever known slams into me. More intense than any vibrator could ever deliver. My gasp has the vampire smirking against my wrist.

Asshole.

That thought quickly flies away as ecstasy riddles my body. My core pulses and I press my legs together, swallowing against the need that starts to burn through me. I find myself seeking Rowan’s gaze as an anchor. The shifter watches my face, that same open curiosity burning in his eyes.

A flush crawls up my neck. It’s like he’s watching his friend fuck me, but I can’t seem to look away. Not as Bellamy’s tongue laps at my skin or as pressure builds between my legs, or when an embarrassing sound slides past my lips. A deep rumble of delight reverberates in Bellamy’s chest, and his shadows inch toward my waist.

My breath hitches, morbid curiosity at what he can do with them rushing through me. The response surprises me because the handful of times I’ve tried to hook up with someone have ended in me running away before I had a full-blown panic attack. But while my heart is pounding, it has nothing to do with fear.

Why is that? What is it about these two that makes me feel safe?

Rowan’s eyebrows draw down, mistaking my reaction for fear. “Bellamy.”

The vampire pauses, sighs heavily, and retracts his fangs. Some fucked-up part of me mourns the loss. He laves his tongue over the puncture wounds before straightening, eyes as dark as a blood moon now. His lips are coated in crimson. He catches me staring and licks them clean, keeping me spellbound. Then his shadows smooth up and down my back.

Their touch coasts over my scars, and even though the fabric of my dress is between us, it shatters the moment. I extract myself from his hold. Face hot, heart still thundering, I clear my throat. “There. Happy?”

Bellamy is strangely quiet.

Rowan’s brow furrows when his friend stays silent, finding it odd as well. As far as I can tell, the vampire usually can’t shut up.

“What? Did my blood taste bad or something?” Self-consciousness washes over me. I clench my jaw, hating that I even care whether he enjoyed it. It’s not like I want him to do it again.

The vampire stares at me like an enigma. There’s not a smirk or grin to be found. Turns out he can take some things seriously . . . the trouble is, I’m not sure I understand what he’s thinking. It’s just blood.

“You should leave, Threshold Breaker.”

Rejection stings against my cheeks. Now that he got what he wanted, he’s just going to toss me aside? It’s so very Foundation coded. “Screw you, Bellamy.”

I expect him to respond with something like “I knew you’d want to” or some quip that would only irritate me more, but he crosses his arms and waits for me to go. Rowan’s forehead is lined in confusion. Clearly he doesn’t understand, either, though he doesn’t come to my rescue. Why am I not surprised?

I had hope for the shifter, but men always disappoint me. These two are no different.