For a fleeting moment she wondered if he was taking too much blood and the instant it crossed her mind he released her throat. He kept pounding into her, though. It went on for ages. She wished he’d find his release. She knew she couldn’t find her own; too much was in her head. Him, his emotions, her own emotions, the predicament she was smack dab in the midst of.
Abruptly he pulled her from the shower, pushed the bathroom door open and then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He held her eyes with his, all the way, looking so angry and so intense it rocked her to her very core. She didn’t know what to feel. She only knew she couldn’t look away.
As soon as her back hit the bed he lifted her legs up and balanced the backs of her calves across the front of his chest and slammed hard into her. She blinked hard and chewed her lip as he sank in deep. He held tight and thrust forward, grunting and still not releasing her eyes from his.
“Forget everything but this. Just focus on now, on us,” he demanded through gritted teeth.
He looked thoroughly pissed with her. It was like he was halfway between Tristan and the monster then --- it seemed like he was faltering on a tightrope, and his eyes, though not black, looked darker, almost stormy gray.
She gulped and her eyes started to fill with wet. She didn’t want this, didn’t want to see this anger, feel this anger, be treated like his fuck doll. She furrowed her brow at him and then covered her eyes. He took her ankles and then pulled her up to his lap to straddle him and grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from her face, “Don’t ever tell me No again. Do you understand me? Do you have any idea how much self-control I’ve had to muster with you? How lucky you are that I feel the way I do about you?” his fangs protruded and he squeezed his eyes tight and pulled them back in. Kyla felt fear prickle her. She was afraid, very afraid.
He was becoming the monster and it seemed like he was fighting it, “Don’t think about it!” he demanded, “I can’t handle any fucking more of it! Ride me.” He flopped back on the bed, leaving her on top, “Hurry!” He was frantic. He thrust his hands through his hair and his fangs shot out again. He squeezed his eyes shut and then they vanished. He let out a hard shudder.
Panic rose to the brim in her. She pushed her dripping hair out of her eyes. How much could he hurt her right now?
“Now!” he growled and dug his fingers into her waist, trying to grind her into him.
“Stop. Let me go. You’re scaring me.” she tried to get off him but the scuffle resulted in her hitting her face off his head. Her jaw radiated pain. His fingers dug into her hips harder, not letting her move. He snarled at her like an animal. She slapped him hard across the face and instantly regretted it. Her heart sank as his fangs protruded again and his pupils began to grow bigger and his mouth curled into a snarl. The blue was vanishing, leaving black in its wake, “You don’t get to tell me to stop. You don’t get to make me deprive myself of my hunger, and you don’t get to make me feel guilty for what I am, do you hear me? Damn it, I can’t fucking do it all at once! Do you know what you’re fucking doing to me?”
She wanted to run, she wanted far away from him. But she was in a very compromising position. He pulled her closer and caught her throat with his teeth.
“Please no, Tristan…” she pleaded. She gasped and braced herself, fearful that she’d feel hatred, snakes, spiders, and that the fury she saw shooting out of his eyes would race through her insides but instead she felt an overwhelming sadness flood through her at lightning speed.
Sorrow slammed into her like a tsunami. He let go of her, limply fell back against the pillows, and she saw his face; it was full of remorse and pain. He looked so lost. He looked at her with the saddest look she’d ever seen. His blood-covered fangs retracted and he closed his eyes and put his palms over his eyes. He let out a strangled-sounding sob.
She grabbed his face with both hands and held it and leaned forward and kissed his lips tenderly. He made another pained sound and buried his face into her chest, “So sorry, baby…” He made a move to pull away but she grabbed his shoulders and guided him back down to the pillows and, with him still hard and still inside her, she rubbed her hands up and down his chest and gyrated her hips, making love to him slowly, pushing everything out of her mind except him.