The Phoenix Prophecy: Nova

Tanner is gone for no more than a minute. When he returns, he’s holding a knife. Nova’s eyes widen. Her face pales. My gut clenches.

Beating down the hunger that’s raging inside me is taking every fiber of concentration I have. A few minutes ago, I thought I was making a necessary decision. Now, I have no idea whether the part of me that wants her blood just played an ingenious trick and won.

I have to believe it’s the former.

I have to believe I won’t hurt her.

I have to believe this is right.

“Just a drop.” My voice is hoarse, barely audible. It grates in my throat. All I want is her. Her taste, her scent. I move forward and the chains holding me to the wall rattle.

Tanner screws his eyes shut. He wants to protect me, but he wants to protect her more. He’d kill me if he had to. I know that without him having to tell me.

The knife is in Tanner’s hand, poised above Nova’s finger. He flexes his fingers on the shaft. She’s watching him. He can’t do it.Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

She blinks at him through her long, dark lashes and takes the knife. She presses the blade to the tip of her finger.

I can’t look away.

As it pierces her skin, Snow lets out a dark yowl. Luther closes his eyes but doesn’t stop chanting. He’s keeping the restraint spell in place. He’s good at it. I haven’t known anyone to break one of his spells yet. I hope I won’t be the first.

A familiar metallic twang fills the air. I breathe it in. It’s her.

I watch as she inches closer.

She’s breathing hard and fast. There’s less blood than there was when she cut herself, and I’m not charged up with adrenaline from having her legs wrapped around my head. But as she leans toward me, kneeling, reaching for me, my cock swells and I let out a long, heavy breath.

She looks at her finger. At the drop of deep red liquid she’s about to offer me.

Every muscle in my body tenses. If she doesn’t give it to me, I’ll take it. I’ll break these chains and I’ll break Luther’s restraints and I’ll have her. No one will stop me.

As I realize what I’m thinking, what I’m willing to do, I open my mouth and try to speak. I try to tell her to stop. That I was wrong. But it’s too late.

She puts her finger to my lips. Briefly. Softly. My tongue searches for her, but she’s gone, out of reach again.

I fix my eyes on her and lick my lips.