Ryan froze, for a moment unable to react. His hands stilled on Zenith's waist, and his breath caught in his chest. The daze snapped only when a sharp sting spread across his neck.
Zenith bit him.
A hiss escaped his lips. His fingers instinctively dug into her waist as the burn of her teeth pressed into his skin.
The heat of her breath fanned against him, and for the briefest instant, something primal inside him threatened to break free.
Her soft whimper followed, and then her lips brushed the mark she had made —unconscious, desperate and driven by the drug in her system. She didn't know what she was doing, but her every little movement felt like a silent plea —like she was begging him to ease the torment consuming her.
"Zenith!" Ryan's voice came deep, laced with something dark beneath.
But Zenith wasn't in her senses to understand what that darkness meant. Her glassy eyes pleaded as her voice cracked, "Please … help me. I am not feeling well. Please …"
