He laughed, eyes lighting, as though that simple sentence meant the world to him. “I meant biting. We bite. But we control the amount of venom we secrete. Small amounts create a numbing, euphoric affect. Larger quantities induce the change.”
I squinted in thought. “So that’s what that was.”
He smirked. “It was.”
I harumphed. “How’s that work though? Do you puncture, and then drink? Or are the fangs like straws?”
Laughing, Declan squeezed my knee. “I wouldn’t call themstraws.”
So they were, in fact, straws. “What would you call them?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Like an IV, maybe? A needle, almost.”
“Big fucking needle,” I muttered.
He laughed again. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
“Not at the moment.” I rubbed my thigh. “It’s a little sore now though.”
Smiling, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. Too low for anyone else to hear, hardly loud enough that I heard, he whispered in my ear, “I can kiss it for you when we leave.”
Heat burning my cheeks, stomach flipping, an involuntary clench quaked through me. “Oh, you think that’d help?”
His hand slid an inch or two up my thigh, thumb brushing the hem of my jeans. “I don’t think it’d hurt.”
With a smirk, I sipped my drink and sat it onto a coaster on the coffee table. My eyes met his as I crossed my legs, sealing his palm between them. “It felt pretty damn good last time.”
Declan’s smirk lifted, sliding his thumb along the hem just before my pussy, sending a wave of tingles through me. If it weren’t for where we were, I would’ve groaned and kneeled around his lap. Fucking on a sofa this exquisite would be the experience of a lifetime.
But for the moment, I supposed I’d settle for that playful brush. At least the majority of his palm was on the top of my thigh, appearing casual. With a quick glance, no one would think anything of it, and that only made the thrill of his barely there touch so much stronger.
Clearing my throat, I glanced at the piano. “So does he play?”
“Abe? Nah, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s a requirement for rich people to own a grand piano,” he said. “Do you?”
I shook my head, giving a smile. “I always wanted to, but I never got the chance. I did take some violin classes in elementary school though. I loved it.”
“Why’d you quit?”
“I dropped it getting off the bus. It broke Ria’s heart—she’d gotten it at a garage sale and gave it to me for Christmas.”
Declan laughed. “You’re all grown up now. You could buy one.”
I could. But did I want to take classes at this age? Not particularly. “Maybe one day.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, but I do now.” He squinted slightly, smiling. “You’ve got the musician look to you.”
My laugh was louder than I’d intended. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, really.” His smile widened. “Why’s that funny?”
“Because when I hear musician, I picture something a bit more… Janis Joplin.”
“I was thinking more Philharmonic than hippies.”
“Ah, so it was a compliment then.”
“It was.” He squeezed my thigh tenderly—right in the place where he’d bitten me.