The Splash Zone

Trisley: Scene Two~Blood of His Veins

* Kenzie has had to delete the above gif per wattpad's request. It apparently violates their content guidelines. I apologize you will have to see this as an updated post when it is not. Kenzie is working through her grief and hopes to be back soon with something worthy of sharing. Much love ~ Kenzie

~ KINLEY POV ~

Ebony drips from Tristan's torn wrist—primitive desire in liquid form. His well-built thighs grip my waist in a subtle squeeze that mirrors the tightening of my legs as he straddles me. A human should not have a thirst for blood, but Tristan's life force is beckoning me, my own veins feeling empty with the need for him to fill them.

That's the thing about a vampire's blood. It doesn't stay in your stomach. It spreads like a disease that infects your mind and your body. It's a high. It's sheer madness. It's an indescribable need for more. This time more is what's staring straight at me straining inside Tristan's pants.

The urgency to run my hands along Tristan's broad shoulders and across his expansive chest overwhelms me, the zigzagging drip drip of his blood down the contours of his torso begging to be lapped up in a way that makes my lips feel dry and cracking in my dire thirst for him. It's a miracle vampires can stay sane around humans because it seems like I might die if Tristan doesn't fill my veins soon with his power...his lust...his love.

The mattress shifts. My weight slumps to the side where Tristan digs his palm into the bed, crushing a flower that fell from my hair.

"Leave it."

Blood drips onto the flat plane of my stomach while Tristan cradles his seeping wrist to his body, depriving me of its bittersweet, moon drop silkiness.

The intensity in Tristan's command suspends my squirming. I almost managed to free myself from the captor of my mint-green nightgown.

"But I—"

"If you want my hands free, these are the conditions." Tristan places an open-mouth, tongue-bathing kiss in the hollow of my throat. "I can only restrain myself so much."

The need to touch Tristan sinks into me like the claws of his spirit energy have pierced me, shredding past the decency and reserved modesty I was raised to personify. A contradiction of temptation meant to invoke purity and embody a vampire's lust in the flesh.

"Restrain yourself?" I stay the urge to disregard Tristan's order by biting the inside of my bottom lip.

"It's a dangerous business bedding humans. It mandates total control." Tristan slips off the bed in a blinding blink. He stands at the end, peering out at me with a hunger that nips and licks everywhere his gaze lands. "It will be easier to control myself if you can't touch me."

Demon of mischief and all unholy things of the dark.

A gurgled sound catches in my throat, my legs automatically clenching at the sight of Tristan freeing himself. To see the Beast of the Damned unclothed is to know fear and want simultaneously.

"Should you put on the chains?" I ask, growing nervous as Tristan strokes his length and girth. Neither aspect is lacking, making me wonder if his sword with the beast on the hilt is arguably less dangerous than the one in his hand.

"You can't shackle a beast once you've given him freedom." Tristan twists his hand over himself, ebony smearing onto him.

He's slathering blood onto his...

Faintness sweeps through me as warmth spreads rapidly throughout me.

"What if you lose control?" I ask, Talrek's overshare of his fellow warriors crushing humans in the throes of passion springing unwanted visuals to mind of broken bones, torn flesh, and heaps of agonizing screams as Warriors of the Damned pound them ruthlessly.