"Simon," Stella's soft voice broke through the silence of the night.
Simon's shoulders tensed as he heard her. Without turning, he muttered, "Go back inside, Stella."
Her steps faltered as she approached him, her breath catching in her throat when her eyes adjusted to the moonlit scene. The full moon cast its silvery glow on Simon, and a large, shimmering crescent mark gleamed on his bare back, pulsing faintly as if alive.
"What… What is that?" she asked, her voice trembling, a mix of awe and fear.
Simon remained still for a moment before replying in a voice that carried both power and anguish, "It represents my clan."
The raw ferocity in his tone made her shiver.
"You're hungry," Stella said quietly, taking a cautious step closer.
Simon finally turned to her, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the darkness, his jaw clenched tightly. "When I said go inside, I meant it. Go, Stella," he growled, his voice dripping with warning.
Stella ignored him, moving closer still. Her gaze held his, unflinching. "Does the thought of drinking blood from me disgust you that much?"
Simon's eyes softened, pain flickering in their depths. "It's not that." He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. "If I start, I won't be able to stop. You don't understand—" His voice dropped to a dangerously low pitch. "Now, will you leave?"
But she didn't move back. Instead, she raised her hands, pushing her hair to one side and baring her delicate neck. The moonlight kissed her skin, making it appear even more luminous.
Simon froze, his instincts roaring to life.
"Stella," he said hoarsely, his voice a mix of desperation and warning.
"Simon," she whispered, her tone unwavering, her eyes locking with his.
His resolve crumbled. He knew exactly what she was offering, and he hated himself for what he was about to do.
"Remember," he rasped, his voice ragged, "you're the one who asked for this."
With that, he reached for her, pulling her onto his lap as she straddled him. His hands settled firmly on her waist, holding her in place as his crimson eyes glowed brighter, his fangs elongating.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Her unwavering gaze told him everything—her trust, her love, her determination. And it was that trust that unraveled him.
He tugged her hair gently, angling her neck just right, and then sank his fangs into her soft skin.
Stella hissed at the initial sting, her fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. The sensation was strange, a mix of pain and something far more profound. She felt his lips press against her neck as he drank, and her body betrayed her, a surge of heat coursing through her veins.
Simon, lost in the intoxicating taste of her blood, felt as though he were drinking the purest elixir. It was rich, warm, and unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It didn't just satisfy his hunger; it overwhelmed him, filling every corner of his being.
His free hand trailed up her back, slipping beneath her shirt to touch her bare skin. His touch was firm yet reverent, tracing patterns that sent shivers down her spine. Stella instinctively pressed closer to him, her thighs tightening around his waist, her body drawn to him as if pulled by an unseen force.
Simon could hear her heartbeat racing, each pulse pounding in his ears like a melody that was as terrifying as it was irresistible. It wasn't just the sound; it was the feeling, the way each beat seemed to tether him more tightly to her, binding them in a way he could no longer deny.
Reluctantly, he pulled back, but his face lingered in the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent—a mix of sea salt and something uniquely hers. Slowly, deliberately, his tongue traced over the marks his fangs had left behind, soothing the small wounds.
Stella let out a soft, involuntary moan at the sensation, her body arching slightly toward him. Her reaction drew a low, satisfied growl from Simon, his lips curling into a smirk against her skin.
In one fluid motion, he shifted, snapping them into a new position. She barely registered the movement before she found herself pinned against the cushioned seat, her back meeting the soft fabric. Simon loomed over her, his hands braced on either side of her as his eyes—now dark and intense—searched hers.
Her hands moved instinctively, tracing over the defined muscles of his chest and shoulders. His skin was warm under her touch, his body tense with restraint.
Simon's gaze dropped to her lips, and without hesitation, he closed the gap between them, capturing her mouth in a fierce, unrelenting kiss. Stella responded immediately, matching his fervor with her own. Her hands moved to his hair, tangling in the dark strands as she pulled him closer.
One of Simon's hands slid to her jaw, angling her head just right, while the other began a slow, deliberate path down her body. His touch was firm but reverent, as though he were memorizing every curve, every dip, every inch of her.
Stella's heart raced as her senses blurred together—the taste of his lips, the heat of his touch, the intoxicating pull between them. A gasp escaped her lips as she felt something hard pressing against her stomach. Her eyes widened slightly as the realization hit her.
He was impossibly hard.
Simon paused for a fraction of a second, catching her reaction. The smirk returned to his lips, this time more wicked, more knowing.
"Stella," he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down her spine. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."
Her breath hitched, and instead of answering, she pulled him down into another kiss, this one slower, deeper, more deliberate. Her body arched into his, her actions silently telling him everything he needed to know.
Simon groaned against her lips, his restraint hanging by a thread as he gave in to the moment, letting himself drown in her completely.