She conformed to him like a missing piece in his puzzle. His blood coursed through her body, restoring some of the strength she had lost. The intense heat dissipated swiftly, yet a new sensation emerged as she positioned herself atop him, eliciting a groan from his response to her touch.
His hand transitioned from the nape of her neck to clasp her waist through her sheer nightgown. She was uncertain about the quantity of blood she was meant to consume, yet it was more palatable than anything she had ever tasted. She desired to immerse herself in it, to experience each day if she could savour a slight portion.
“Just a bit more,” he whispered in her ear. Their wolves seemed to circle within her mind before intertwining and finding solace in each other’s warmth. She was unable to concentrate on their words, yet their presence evoked a sense of belonging. Did Jayce experience that as well?
Was she experiencing hallucinations regarding all of this?
Jayce seized the nape of her neck, immobilising her as he withdrew his wrist from her mouth, denying her desire. His blood oozed from her lips, tarnishing her nightgown with a macabre hue, yet neither appeared cognisant of anything beyond each other.
He gazed at her with a yearning that she recognised as a figment of her imagination, yet she permitted herself to indulge in the fantasy, if only momentarily. Her gaze briefly shifted to his mouth before she compelled herself to meet his perilous blue eyes once more, yet he remained captivated by her crimson lips. A reckless part of her yearned to challenge him to bridge the gap and recreate one of her most sinister fantasies. His eyes became unfocused, as though he were already immersed in a dream where she permitted herself to embrace her desires without shame. Did he contemplate the experience of kissing her with his blood on her lips? Did he permit himself to contemplate how soft she would feel beneath him?
It felt as though she had been sedated; her thoughts became nebulous as she swiftly extricated herself from him. What was her activity? What had she been contemplating? His expression became impassive when she gazed at him once more, as though the incident had never occurred.
It is possible that it had not occurred and was merely a figment of her imagination. Kylie once informed her that the blood of a werewolf possesses the potency to induce insanity.
Her energy surged beyond its previous levels prior to the poisoning, but then it rapidly began to diminish. She wished to convince herself that it had never occurred, that she had not merely contemplated him kissing her and succumbing to a forbidden dark desire. She was not an unintelligent girl; thus, why had she permitted herself to think otherwise?
“You must consume food prior to sleeping again,” Jayce stated. The bed groaned as he rose and retrieved food from the basket Colton had delivered the previous night. It must have all been antiquated, yet she felt insatiable.
Molly sat upright and devoured the sandwich he provided her. Too famished to feel embarrassment about consuming food voraciously in his presence. He appeared neither disturbed nor disgusted; he merely ensured she consumed every morsel of food he provided.
Upon completing the entire basket of food, equivalent to two days’ worth, he provided her with cold water to aid digestion. “Are you still attractive?” he enquired.
Molly halted and attempted to comprehend her bodily sensations. It was anxious and yearning for repose simultaneously—but not warm. Indeed, she sensed the cold creep up her bare legs, attempting to transform her into ice.
“No. Could you please close the window?”
Jayce executed the action devoid of any irritation. Molly retracted the covers over herself once more to shield against the chill that threatened to overwhelm her, akin to her fever. It felt like a jolt in her body to undergo such a rapid transition from one extreme to another.
She raised the blankets to her chin and observed as he rekindled the fire. Upon his seating beside her bed, she exhibited hesitation. “You are not obligated to remain with me; feel free to rest if you wish. I will manage for a few hours.”
“Did I express a desire to depart?”
No, however-
“Do not interrogate my actions,” he retorted. She sealed her lips. Despite his severe tone, there was an almost endearing quality to his demeanour. If he perceived her thoughts, he would likely expel her into the snow to demonstrate otherwise.
Nevertheless… a minor portion of her had more trust in him than she was willing to acknowledge. It felt like a self-betrayal; all along, she recognised her reluctance to trust him or form a close bond, fearing his potential volatility. However, his actions resonated more profoundly than any harsh words he had directed at her.
