“That’ll need stitches. Too bad you won’t be getting them.”
Then he stood, unbuttoning his top button and hovering over my body. Tears pricked the sides of my eyes but didn’t roll down my cheeks. The pain was unbearable, and the liquid I felt rolling down the back of my ass, I knew, was blood. Blood I was used to. Being used and disposed of, I was used to. Feeling physical pain so viciously I was used to. Being met with eyes that took ownership of my withered, rotten soul was not something I was used to.
“Fuuuuccckkkk, baby—” was the first thing I hear when my eyes pop open. “Just let her sleep through it. Fuck off.” It isn’t until I taste metallic sliding down my throat that I realize I have my teeth sunk into flesh. An arm. A very muscular arm.
I detach and wince when I feel how much I have to retract from him and how deep I bit. “I’m sorry.” I squeeze my eyes closed. “Shit, Kyrin, I’m sorry.”
Before I can turn around, Eli’s hand is on my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “We didn’t get any sleep, but I’m sure as fuck you did.” His eyes search mine, and it must be morning with the sun now fighting through my blinds, while offering just enough for me to be able to see them both. “What were you dreaming about?”
I roll onto my back, reaching for Kyrin’s arm to inspect it. He lets me have it and my cheeks flare when I see the deep indentation and blood smears where I bit him in my sleep. “I can’t remember.”
“You can’t remember what you were dreaming?” Eli asks again, and I get it. It’s how he is, he’s mouthy and always has shit to say, but it’s Kyrin’s silence that’s making me nervous.
“I can’t.” I shake my head, bringing Kyrin’s arm to my lips and looking up at him as I swipe my tongue over the wound, sucking off the bubble of blood that’s swelling to the surface.
His eyes turn a shade darker, his jaw clenched.
After I’ve licked off the blood, I press a gentle kiss over the wound and allow my fingers to slide between his. I thought he’d fight it, maybe it’s too intimate for him or too much, since he doesn’t kiss, but he allows me to do it. His fingers twitch before slowly curling around mine and resting over my knuckles. My heart and stomach do that thing again, as I turn to face an obviously angry Eli.
He’s searching my eyes with fire. “Don’t give me that shit, Lilith. You know damn well what you were dreaming about and I want to know right now who the fuck it was that was in the bed with you.”
“What?” I search his features. My Eli. So beautifully chaotic. So beautifully perfect. “What do you mean, in bed with me?”
Eli huffs, falling onto his back, flustered, his eyes on the ceiling. I reach forward, Kyrin’s hand still in mine as I lean in to press my lips to his cheek. “What are you asking me, Eli?”
He shakes his head, swallowing thickly as his Adam’s apple jolts. “I guess I don’t know, Lilith.” Finally he turns to me, his eyes on mine. He reaches forward to rest his hand on my cheek. “Do you always sleep like that?”
“It’s amusing that you think I sleep at all…” I say in jest, though I’m not even halfway kidding.
“Lilith,” Kyrin says, and his tone makes both Eli and me stop breathing. “Look at me.” I do as I’m told, turning to face him, and for the first time this morning, I’m finally noticing the expression on his face. The way his muscles are tight and his eyes are dark around the edges. They both didn’t get much sleep last night and I know that was all my fault. His eyes are on mine, and part of me wants to look away, but something deep inside of me doesn’t. I don’t want to. I want to trust him. My lashes fan over my cheeks as I blink, and I lean closer and closer into him.
“Fuck.” Kyrin tears the blankets off his body and shoves on his jeans that were on the ground. I’m back in real time, out of the trance he had me locked in, like his own personal little mini vampire sucking on his blood.
“What is it?” Eli asks, keeping his hand secured around my upper arm.
“Fuck!” Kyrin swings the door open and it slams behind his departure, jumping me from my daze.
“What’d I do?” I ask, turning to face Eli, who’s staring at me closely.
“Nothing. Lie down. It’s way too fucking early for this shit.”
I crawl over on top of him, resting on his chest. I listen to his heartbeat mellow out while ignoring how comfortable he is for someone so fit. I trace the lines of his tattoos, in particular one on his arm. It’s a crown, with Elite Fucking King beneath it. I think my favorite one is the word KING written in old English writing on the front of his throat.