Zagan's jaw feathered with the desire to argue that he should not be trusting himself. But instead, he trailed his hand lower on Penelope's stomach, feeling the warmth of her shiver beneath him and the way his own body reacted to it, wanting to bring more of that out of her.
Right now, the sweet rush of her emotions and her vitality was everywhere within him—filling up every cell. He had drank her blood and would likely end up regretting it, but right now he couldn't bring himself to. He was drunk on her, and yet his thirst wasn't finished.
"Will you… correct me if I do something wrong?" He asked, playing with the hair that was sprawled out around her onto the white sheets of the bed.
