CHAPTER 271: VAMPIRE HUNT 31

Selis’s breath hitched again, and his hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, anchoring her against him.

It was not rough—if anything, it was steady, almost protective—but there was no mistaking the hunger in the way he drank.

When he finally pulled back, his lips lingered a fraction longer than necessary. He exhaled against her skin, and she shivered. The wound had already closed under the strange magic of his bite, leaving only the memory of it throbbing in her pulse.

Lucian’s eyes met hers, the hunger still there, tempered now by something unreadable. "That should keep me steady . . . for a while."

Selis swallowed hard, unsure if she wanted to step away or stay exactly where she was.

"You . . . what about my satisfaction?" she asked, her voice low and breathy, heat still pooling in her stomach, aching for release.

"Huh?" Lucian looked at her, as if she’d just insulted his honor.

"You got what you wanted," she said, lips curling into a sly grin. "But what about mine?"

Her knees shifted, pressing lightly—yet deliberately—against the hard outline beneath him. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, but she caught it.

"You do know," she continued, her tone dipping into a husky whisper, "that a vampire’s bite has this . . . aphrodisiac effect, right?"

It was a playful jab, meant to break the tension—just to see if the great Captain Lucian, who never so much as flinched around women, would actually take the bait.

But the humor faltered in her throat when he moved. One moment he was still, the next he was on her, pinning her to the stone.

The heat of his breath rushed across her cheek, his body trembling with barely restrained force.

"L-Lucian . . ." Her voice was soft, uncertain. She wanted to push him away, but her hands hesitated against his chest. There was something in his gaze—hunger, yes, but also something rawer, something that made her pulse trip.

"Don’t temp me," he said, his voice cracked on the words, and his eyes didn’t leave her throat.

She felt it then—the way his body seemed to coil, a predator holding back against its nature. His scent was sharper now, metallic and wild. The air between them was heavy, charged, as if the cave itself was holding its breath.

And then he gave in.

There was no slow preamble—just the press of his lips at her neck, the flash of pain as his fangs broke skin again, and a rush of heat so sudden her breath caught.

The pain blurred into something else, a dizzy wave that made her clutch at his shoulders rather than shove him away.

Her heart pounded, each beat echoing in her ears. She could feel him drinking, feel the pull deep in her veins, as if he was taking more than blood—taking the strength from her muscles, the breath from her lungs, the thoughts from her mind.

"Lucian . . ." It was a whisper, but she wasn’t sure if it was meant to stop him or plead for him to make love to her. NOW.

The trembling in his body lessened with each swallow, the ragged edges of his breathing smoothing out. In contrast, her own breath came quicker, shallower.

Her senses sharpened—every scrape of his coat against her arm, every shift of his fingers as they dug into her waist.

She could hear the faint hitch in his breathing when her pulse quickened. Could feel the way his hold on her changed—less desperate now, more gentle.

She hated to admit it, but there was something intoxicating about the closeness, about being the center of his attention in a way she’d never felt before.

The Lucian she knew was all iron will and sharp orders. This Lucian was . . . unguarded. And she was the reason for it.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were stained crimson. His breathing was calmer now, but his eyes... they were still that dangerous shade of red, and they lingered on her in a way that made her skin feel too warm.

Her fingers, of their own accord, touched the place on her neck where his mouth had been. It throbbed, but it wasn’t pain that made her shiver.

"You . . ." Her voice came unsteady. "You could’ve killed me." with the amount of blood that he had drink.

Lucian didn’t answer right away. He just stared, jaw tight, as though wrestling with something he couldn’t quite voice.

"I wouldn’t," he said at last. It wasn’t a reassurance so much as a declaration—raw and rough, like it cost him to admit it.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The cave felt smaller, the sound of their breathing loud in the stillness.

Selis gave a shaky laugh. "Well. Next time you want a snack, maybe try asking first."

His mouth twitched—half amusement, half something darker. "You would’ve said no."

"You don’t know that."

His gaze held hers for a long, unblinking second. "I do."

"Not me," Selis said firmly, her voice low but steady. "From now on, if you need to drink blood . . . you drink from me."

Lucian didn’t frown, didn’t scoff, didn’t toss her words aside like he usually did. For the first time, he looked at her without judgment—his expression unreadable, but his eyes . . . sharper, more focused on her than ever.

"Don’t say things you can’t uphold," he warned, his tone carrying a quiet edge.

Selis tilted her head, a playful smirk curving her lips. "Of course I can. I’m healthy, you know. Just . . . don’t drink too much, alright? We’re partners now, and . . ." Her hand slowly slipped down until it brushed against the front of his pants. "I want something else too."

The change in him was instant. Lucian’s gaze darkened, amber shifting into a deep, dangerous crimson. Heat rolled off him in waves, his breath roughening as if her touch alone had ignited something he’d kept tightly caged.

"You . . ." His voice was low and strained, almost a growl, as she gave him a teasing pinch.

Lucian groaned—an unrestrained, guttural sound—and Selis felt the solid weight of his arousal pressing against her palm, hardening under her touch. Her own pulse kicked up at the realization.