"Are you ready?" he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.
"Yes," I breathe. "Bite me."
He doesn't hesitate.
He leans in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck, and then his teeth sink in.
The pain is sharp, immediate, and blinding. It is not the magical, euphoric rush of a cosmic mate bond. It is the visceral, grounding pain of flesh being broken, of blood being drawn. It is real. It is human. It is ours.
I gasp, my hands flying up to grip his shoulders, my fingers digging into the hard muscle of his back. I feel his teeth release, and then, a second later, he offers his own neck to me.
I don't hesitate. I lean in, my lips brushing his pulse point, and I bite down.
I taste copper and salt. I feel the rush of his hot blood against my tongue. I feel the physical shockwav
