Yin's POV
I should stop this.
The thought flickered through my mind as Valda's lips moved against mine, as her fingers tangled in my hair with practiced expertise. I should push her away, maintain the distance I'd kept for decades, remember all the reasons this was a catastrophically bad idea.
I didn't stop because my hunger was insatiable.
It had been too long—centuries since I'd allowed myself this kind of weakness. Physical desire was a mortal indulgence, something I'd disciplined myself to suppress. But Valda was vampire, not human. She understood what it meant to carry power in your blood, to live with the weight of immortality pressing down on every moment.
And she was offering herself without the complications of human fragility.
Her dress whispered to the floor with barely a sound. My bandages followed, forgotten, unnecessary. The wounds would heal regardless—they always did.
"Finally," she breathed against my neck. "I was beginning to think you were made of stone."
