Two of a Kind

Dazed, still, with aftershocks of ecstasy, Isla could only watch as Archebold roused himself, and she arched an eyebrow as he tore his shirt open, displacing her hands where they were splayed across his chest. She lifted her chin, perhaps in defiance but perhaps, also, to feel his touch better, his fingers dancing across her cheek and her neck. She held his dark eyes like they were pools of shadow she might fall into, and as he scored a wound across his chest and offered - teased, even - that she wasn't done with him, Isla all but jumped in. "With you? Not yet," she murmured, and there was no resistance as he brought her lips down to meet the offered prize, sinking her teeth back into him. Pleasure seized her a second time and Isla was a slave to it; the strong fingers in her hair were all the encouragement she needed and she surrendered to him. Focused only on drawing further life - and further bliss - from him, she only vaguely noticed as her fingers found his cheek. That changed, however, as his fangs found her wrist in kind, Isla flinching at the sheer and overwhelming sensation of it all. Senseless, tumbling, there would be no coming up for (proverbial) air this time. ISLA Hush now, I'm here