I jolted awake to a sharp, deep pain in the side of my neck, and I screamed against a cold, strong hand pressed firmly against my mouth. I immediately tried to sit up, but my brain hadn’t yet registered the weight of the body on top of mine. My hands were pinned above my head, my wrists crossed, held in an icy cold vice grip. I tried desperately to twist out of my attacker’s grasp, struggling against them, but it was futile. Something warm and wet was pooling beneath my head and shoulder.
Fuck.
I screamed again, but it tapered off as the stinging pain gave way to intense, all-consuming pleasure, and my body relaxed. My eyelids fluttered closed. I moaned against the bloodsucker’s palm, and he growled lowly in response.
I knew that growl.
It was Van—of course it was. Why would anyone
