When blood runs cold (part one R18)
I had always thought about what it would be to kiss a vampire, driven by the young and insatiable drive to learn, yet simultaneously consumed by the curiosity of how a beast of a man could be so wild and yet so gentle.
Perhaps that 'fated' part of me had always been calling out to this moment.
How I had secretly wondered long into the night! Staring over the tops of the trees and out into the expanse of the murky forest in which I was never to cross, pondering over how it might feel to have their lips on mine, to feel the passion of a creature who loves by the stars and dances by the night. Wondering if a creature with blood so cold could even feel love at all.
I suppose now I had my answer.
His lips move against mine, hungry and devouring. I can taste the distinctively coppery taste of blood on his lips, drowned out by the intoxicating pleasure of having his body pressed against mine, of feeling every inch of his skin up against my own.