REXANNA
She can feel his breath hitch before she bites, but she continues through, fangs sliding easily into his skin, taking blood and replacing it with an incredibly pleasurable feeling. It tastes like honey on her tongue, the only thing she can taste, and she nearly vibrates with the feeling as well. But she knows she has to be careful, that any over step on her part could prove to be dangerous.
Yet, at the sound that leaves his lips, the corners of her own lift slightly as she follows him down into the snow to continue to drink until she gets as much as she needs. A sigh of her own leaves her, enjoying the taste and the feeling of ecstasy that courses through her with the spike of the magic that lingers in his blood. Her eyes lift to his face as she drinks deep but still courteous.
She practically hums a soft sound to him as his hand laces its way through her dark hair, her free hand reaching up to run her thumb along the side of his face. Silently, she thanks the Voice for not needing to breathe, and instead can drink from him without pause, to make it as easy as possible. But she doesn’t want to give in yet, enjoying the feeling as it soars within her, thinking nothing of consequences for the beauty of blood, bites, sparkbirds, and phoenixes.
But she knows she’s had enough, and she regrettably withdraws from his wrist, her other hand coming to tighten around the wound. The hand that had lingered along his face now returns to her, the back of it brushes against her red lips to remove the traces of the bite.
And she still hovers over him, bright sapphire eyes looking down to him with a saccharine smile. “Was it as bad as you thought?” She hums, quietly, aiming to ensure she hadn’t taken too much. Had she needed to breathe she was certain she’d be breathless.
Yet, at the sound that leaves his lips, the corners of her own lift slightly as she follows him down into the snow to continue to drink until she gets as much as she needs. A sigh of her own leaves her, enjoying the taste and the feeling of ecstasy that courses through her with the spike of the magic that lingers in his blood. Her eyes lift to his face as she drinks deep but still courteous.
She practically hums a soft sound to him as his hand laces its way through her dark hair, her free hand reaching up to run her thumb along the side of his face. Silently, she thanks the Voice for not needing to breathe, and instead can drink from him without pause, to make it as easy as possible. But she doesn’t want to give in yet, enjoying the feeling as it soars within her, thinking nothing of consequences for the beauty of blood, bites, sparkbirds, and phoenixes.
But she knows she’s had enough, and she regrettably withdraws from his wrist, her other hand coming to tighten around the wound. The hand that had lingered along his face now returns to her, the back of it brushes against her red lips to remove the traces of the bite.
And she still hovers over him, bright sapphire eyes looking down to him with a saccharine smile. “Was it as bad as you thought?” She hums, quietly, aiming to ensure she hadn’t taken too much. Had she needed to breathe she was certain she’d be breathless.
until the lambs
have become
lions
