The Fire We Feed

The wind howled through the cramped cabin, the gusts rattling the old wooden walls, as Taryn sat on the edge of the narrow bed, heart pounding erratically in her chest. She pressed her hand firmly to the torn fabric of Lucien's shirt, but no matter how much pressure she applied, it was useless—blood seeped between her fingers, dark and unforgiving. The gash across his ribs, deep and jagged, wasn't healing. Not fast enough. His skin was deathly pale, the glow in his eyes dulled as his breath grew more shallow, each inhale rattling in his chest.

Taryn's hands trembled as she tried to bind another strip of cloth over the wound, knowing deep down it wouldn't work. The tension in her throat tightened until she could hardly breathe, fear and frustration building in equal measure. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. "You're not healing," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind outside.

Lucien's eyelids fluttered, his silver eyes catching the faint light in the room, but they were distant, clouded by pain. Yet somehow, those eyes still managed to find hers, pinning her in place. "I need… blood," he rasped, his voice broken and faint, but the meaning behind the words hit like a blow.

Taryn froze. Her breath caught in her throat as those three words lingered, heavy and dangerous. She knew what he was asking, and everything inside her rebelled against it. 

No. Not this. 

Not with him.

Her pulse hammered painfully in her chest. "No. No way." Her voice cracked as she shook her head, hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. She couldn't let this happen. He was a vampire. A predator. This wasn't part of the plan.

Lucien groaned, shifting weakly on the bed, and when he spoke again, his voice was firmer, despite the obvious strain. "I don't have time to argue." His tone, though soft, carried an undeniable weight. "If I don't feed…" His eyes darkened, filled with an unspoken finality. "I die."

She shifted, hoping to put distance between them, but the chain clinked in warning, dragging painfully at her wrist and yanking her back into the heat of Lucien's body.

Taryn's throat constricted, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She stared down at him, her mind racing. She had fought so hard to maintain control, to hold her own against this man—this creature. But now… now he was asking for the one thing she couldn't give. Trust. Blood.

"There's gotta be another way," she said, her voice raw with desperation.

"There isn't." His eyes locked onto hers, and despite the pain ravaging his body, there was something deadly serious in his gaze. "Come on, warrior. You're not scared of me, are you?"

"No." Her jaw clenched as anger and fear surged within her. "I hate you."

Lucien's lips curled into a faint, strained smile, the ghost of his usual cockiness surfacing. "Good." His voice was a rasping breath, but there was still that ever-present teasing edge. "Hate me all you want… just don't let me die."

Taryn's heart ached with the weight of the decision, torn between every instinct screaming at her to refuse and the harsh reality staring her in the face. His breath was shallow, ragged, and she could feel his life slipping through her fingers. She couldn't just watch him die, could she?

Cursing under her breath, Taryn made her decision. With a frustrated growl, she yanked the collar of her shirt to the side, exposing the curve of her neck. Her pulse thundered beneath the delicate skin, the vulnerability of the act filling her with a deep, unsettling fear. She hated how exposed it made her feel—how close this creature, this vampire, was to something vital. A part of her that wasn't just blood, but control.

"Make it fast," she snapped, her fingers twisting in the bedsheets beneath her, trying to ground herself against the storm brewing inside.

Lucien's eyes darkened, and despite the pain ravaging his body, hunger flared to life within them. He dragged himself upright, his movements agonizingly slow, every breath a battle. His hand reached out, brushing the back of her neck—his touch surprisingly gentle. It sent an unwanted shiver racing down her spine, one that infuriated her even more.

"This will hurt," he whispered, his lips brushing against her skin, the closeness of him wrapping her in an intoxicating heat.

"Just get it over with," she hissed, nails biting into her palms as she braced herself.

Then his fangs sank in.

The pain was immediate—sharp, searing, and electric as it shot through her body. Taryn gasped, the breath stolen from her lungs. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before, the bite both brutal but intimate, sending waves of raw sensation rippling down her spine. Her hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as she fought the urge to push him away, to pull him closer—anything to break the overwhelming intensity.

Lucien groaned against her neck, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through her, and the need in that sound sent a jolt of something dangerous, something primal, surging through her veins. His hands tightened at her waist, pulling her closer, anchoring her to him as he drank slowly, deliberately. Each pull of his mouth sent heat flooding through her body, mixing pain with something dangerously close to pleasure.

Taryn's breath hitched. She could feel the pulse of her blood, the connection between them deepening with every second. Lucien's mouth was a relentless force—unyielding, powerful, and yet there was an unexpected tenderness in his touch. His fingers splayed across her back, holding her steady as if she might break apart beneath the weight of it all.

"Lucien," she whispered, but it was barely more than a breath, swallowed by the storm inside her. Lucien growled softly, the sound more soothing than threatening, and his grip on her waist only tightened as he continued to drink, the heat of his mouth spreading like wildfire across her skin. It was too much, too intimate, too… consuming.

Taryn clenched her teeth, fighting against the sensations crashing through her. She tried to stay focused, tried to remain in control, but it was impossible with the way Lucien's lips moved against her, soft and insistent. The pull of his mouth was no longer just hunger—it was need. It was primal and raw, and it was dragging her under, drowning her in its intensity.

"Enough," she whispered again, her voice weak, her resolve crumbling. 

She had braced herself for pain—she hadn't expected this. It wasn't just the bite; it was the way it folded into her, filling the cracks she hadn't realized were there.

Lucien finally relented. His fangs witchdrew slowly, his mouth lingering on her neck for a moment longer before he pulled back. The throb of the bite remained, a dull ache that radiated through her. He let out a ragged breath, his lips brushing her skin as he murmured, "You taste… perfect."

Taryn shoved him back with all the strength she could muster, her chest heaving, her heart slamming against her ribs painfully as she tried to regain control of her breath. "Don't you ever—"

"Relax, warrior," he murmured, sinking back against the bed with a faint, satisfied smile. His eyes were brighter now, the strength returning to his body as her blood did its work. "No need to get up in arms."

Taryn sat stiffly on the edge of the narrow bed, her heart pounding in her chest. Every breath was a struggle, her ribs screaming in pain from the fall. Lucien lay beside her, his eyes dark and intense as he watched her, the low light of the cabin casting shadows across his face.

She tried to shift, but the sharp ache in her side pulled her up short, her face contorting in pain. She could feel the bruises blossoming under her skin, the sharp crack of her ribs making every breath feel like a knife slicing through her chest.

Lucien's gaze didn't waver. "Let me heal you," he said, his voice low and insistent, the steel beneath his tone impossible to ignore. "It'll leave a mark. Not just here," he added, his thumb brushing lightly along the bite on her neck, sending an involuntary shiver through her, "but there, too." His hand hovered over her bruised ribs.

Taryn stiffened as his touch lingered, the heat of his palm radiating through the fabric of her shirt. The weight of his presence pressed down on her, both unbearable and oddly soothing. His voice dropped lower, more intimate, as he added, "You know what a bite mark will look like." 

She did know what a vampires bite mark would look like to her people —to the council— but she couldn't care in that moment. She knew what he wanted to do. She'd seen vampires heal people before—using their fangs to pierce the skin and their tongue to seal the wounds. 

But this was different. His touch, the nearness of him— it was an act entirely to initiate for her liking. 

"I'll heal on my own," she muttered, though the words were weak even to her own ears.

"You won't," Lucien pressed, his gaze steady, his hand moving to the hem of her shirt. "Not like this. Let me heal you, or you'll be in agony for days."

Taryn's breath hitched as his fingers slid under the fabric, lifting it slowly, exposing the bruised and battered skin beneath. The cabin's cold air kissed her exposed side, but it was quickly overshadowed by the heat radiating from him. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms as Lucien pushed the shirt higher, revealing the angry purple bruises spreading across her ribs.

Lucien's hands were steady, but his gaze flickered—just a hint of something unguarded. Healing her wasn't just survival. It meant something, though what, Taryn didn't dare name.

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight, his expression softening for just a moment. "It's worse than I thought," he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly along the edges of the bruise, careful but firm.

Taryn bit her lip, trying to fight the urge to flinch at the pain. She hated feeling weak, hated the vulnerability that hung between them like a heavy, unspoken truth.

Lucien's hand settled gently on her side, his fingers splayed over her ribs, his touch firm but careful. "This is going to hurt," he warned, his voice dipping lower, filled with quiet authority.

Before she could brace herself, Lucien leaned down, his lips grazing the edge of the bruise. The heat of his breath sent a jolt of sensation through her, followed by the sharp sting of his fangs as they sank into her skin.

Taryn gasped, her back arching instinctively into him, the pain immediate and sharp. It felt like a thousand needles driving into her all at once. But before she could pull away, he removed his fangs, his tongue sweeping over the bite, his movements slow and deliberate. The pain flared again, then began to ease as the healing began to take effect.

With each pass of his tongue, the tension in her body lessened, the pain dulling to a bearable throb. The bruises began to fade, the broken ribs knitting back together under his touch. But it wasn't just the healing that left her breathless—it was the familiarity of it, the way his mouth moved over her skin, deliberate and tender, as if savoring the act.

Taryn's fingers twisted in the bed sheets, her breath coming in ragged gasps as Lucien worked his way along the bruises. His mouth moved over her ribs, pressing slow kisses to each swollen mark, his fangs sinking in just long enough to break the skin before his tongue swept over the wound, sealing it shut and healing any injury underneath.

The sensation was overwhelming. It hurt—sharp and searing, but with each flick of his tongue, the pain gave way to something warmer, something soothing and terrifying all at once.

Lucien's mouth lingered over her side, his breath warm and steady as he traced the length of the worst bruise, his tongue dragging across her skin with agonizing slowness. Taryn clenched her teeth, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in her belly, the way her heart raced uncontrollably in her chest.

When he finally pulled back, his lips parted slightly, breath still heavy, and he gazed up at her through half-lidded eyes. "Better?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

Taryn swallowed hard, her pulse racing as she pressed a hand to her side, where the bruises had been moments before. Her skin was smooth, whole again, the deep ache that had haunted her every breath now replaced with a strange warmth.

But it was too much. Too intimate. Too raw. She shoved him—harder this time, desperate to put distance between them. Lucien barely shifted, but the corner of his mouth curled into a knowing smirk.

"You're a menace," she muttered, her voice shaky as she yanked her shirt back down, covering the now-healed skin.

"Maybe." He gave her a slow, wicked smile, fangs flashing briefly in the low light. "But you'll thank me in the morning."

Taryn glared at him, heart pounding, cheeks burning—and knowing, deep down, that he was absolutely right. Her hand itched to hit him—or pull him closer. 

Either way, it would feel like surrender.

The chain hummed faintly against her wrist, a low vibration that she swore she could feel in her bones—as if it was feeding off something more than magic.

Taryn had barely turned away from him, heat still simmering under her skin, when Lucien's hand shot out—fast as lightning despite his lingering weakness. His long fingers curled around her waist, gentle but unyielding, and with one smooth pull, she tumbled back against him.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped, squirming in his grip, but Lucien was already wrapping his other arm around her, pulling her firmly against his chest.

"I'm not sleeping on that floor," he murmured, voice low and edged with amusement. His breath ghosted over her ear, warm and far too close. "And neither are you."

"You—let me go," Taryn hissed, trying to twist free, but Lucien's hold was as steady as iron. Not rough, not forceful—just impossible to break.

"You'll freeze down there." He shifted, adjusting her in his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. "After everything we went through to stay alive, I'm not letting you get hypothermia just to prove a point."

"You're unbelievable." Taryn struggled again, but all it did was press her closer against the solid warmth of his chest. His scent wrapped around her—something dark and clean, like the woods after rain—and despite every instinct screaming at her to get away, her muscles refused to cooperate. 

Not that the chain would let her anyway.

"Relax, warrior," Lucien whispered, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shiver through her. "I promise, I don't bite. Unless you ask."

"You think this is funny?" she muttered, cheeks burning.

"I think you're making this much harder than it needs to be." His hand brushed lazily along her side, settling at her hip with infuriating ease.

"I'm not sleeping next to you." She tried to sound firm, but her voice faltered under the weight of his steady, unbothered gaze.

"Suit yourself," Lucien drawled, his lips curving into that insufferable smirk she hated. "But if you want to sleep somewhere else, you'll have to figure out how to break this iron grip first."

"You're such a—"

Before she could finish the insult, Lucien shifted again, pulling her flush against him. The movement was smooth, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world—and as if her protests meant nothing at all.

"You're warm," he murmured, his tone dipping into something softer, almost affectionate. "And I'm tired."

His words landed heavy between them, but what hit harder was the way his grip loosened slightly—just enough to offer her an out, a choice. And damn it, she should move. She should push him off, curse him, and sleep on the cold, dirty, miserable floor just to prove a point.

But instead, she lay still. Tense and furious with herself for how right it felt—how easy it would be to stay here, cocooned in his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest a strange, unwanted comfort.

"I hate you," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

"I know." Lucien chuckled softly, his hand brushing up her arm in a slow, lazy sweep. "But we'll work on that."

She opened her mouth to argue, but his arm tightened around her once more, and suddenly there was no space left between them. Her back pressed firmly against the solid wall of his chest, his breath warm at the nape of her neck.

"Get some sleep, Taryn," he murmured, and this time, his voice wasn't teasing. It was soft. Almost… reassuring. "We are safe for now. I'll hear anyone approaching."

The words settled into her bones, too deep and warm for her liking, and despite everything—despite the heat in her cheeks, the tight knot of tension in her chest—Taryn's eyelids grew heavy.

She told herself it was the chain—that was the only reason she stayed so still, letting his warmth bleed into her bones. It wasn't comfort. It couldn't be. 

Not with him.

She wanted to fight it. She should fight it. But Lucien's hand stayed steady at her waist, his presence a silent promise that, for tonight at least, she was safe.

And damn it all… she almost let herself believe it.