Chapter One-Fifty-Eight: Morning

Marko N. Ivanov

“What does your silence mean, Alba?”

His fingers traced the curve of her ass before he leaned in and sunk his teeth into the soft flesh.

A gasp escaped her lips but nothing else, so he slid his fingers between her thighs, to her wetness, where he sunk them inside her moist slit and rubbed it to life until her pained cry from his bite turned into a moan.

The taste of her blood had a hint of sweetness typically gotten from fruits, but he should not grow used to this. It would be dangerous for both of them if his diet changed to her.

His tongue lapped the wound that proceeded to close far too fast, leaving the taste fast fading in his mouth.

He almost didn’t swallow just to prolong its aftertaste, but the way her body clenched around his fingers as he rubbed the walls of her sex was too enticing that his mouth closed, and an involuntary dry swallow followed.

There it was again, berries and cold cream that weaved beautifully into his lungs, threatening to choke him.

His th