Zagan reached up and traced Penelope's jawline with his thumb before the rest of his fingers wound into her hair, and then he hovered there with her face angled up toward his.
"You are cold," she whispered, closing her eyes as he rubbed his thumb along her cheek and marveled at her and this feeling he now felt sparking wildly in his chest.
"And you are… so warm," he whispered back, swallowing as the urge to taste her rose from somewhere deep in his belly, spreading that same warmth from her all over like the bloom of life took a mere touch.
"Are you thirsty?" She swallowed, her heart trembling in her chest at the intensity with which he was gazing at her.
Was he going to want her blood now? She thought she was prepared for it—that was the deal they had made, after all—but now that he was so close to her and she was facing the threat of that puncture from his fangs without the anesthetic benefit of being compelled, she wasn't so sure.
