Idara
The second our eyes locked, he dipped his head and claimed my mouth in a fierce, starving kiss.
It was brutal and desperate—his lips crashed against mine like he was drowning and I was the only air left in the world. His elongated fangs grazed my bottom lip, nipping hard enough to sting, drawing the faintest coppery taste of blood.
I winced, a small, involuntary sound slipping out.
He froze for a heartbeat. Then slowly, he pulled back just enough to rest his burning forehead against mine. His chest heaved violently as he fought to steady his ragged breathing, every exhale scorching my skin.
For a long moment we stayed like that—foreheads pressed together, his grip still iron-tight on my wrist, fangs barely retracted, both of us trembling from whatever storm was raging inside
