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“I cannot. You must ride this thing yourself. And you will either conquer it, or be conquered. You felt what happened when I interfered just now. Because I have denied myself feeding through my body. I knew you would not approve, so I denied myself. And being inside your body while you touch him, while you feed, would be my undoing. I crave you more than you will ever crave the man in your arms. I have wanted to take your body in the way that only I could take it. To feed from your sex, not from a vein. But I knew that would frighten you more than blood.”

Micah turned me towards the wall, putting my hands up against the tile, pressing his body against my back. Jean-Claude’s voice was soft in my head, more intimate than Micah’s touch. “I did not know you would gain this demon from me, ma petite, and nothing I can say will convince you of that. I know that. I await you here, until you have wrestled the demon, whatever the outcome.” And he shielded from me, hid himself away so he would not feel what was happening, left me alone to make my choice, if I was still capable of choosing.

I found I did have a voice and said, “Micah, stop, please stop.”

Micah licked the back of my neck, and I shuddered, pressed against the wet wall.

“Please, Micah, I’m not on birth control.” A clear thought at last.

He bit softly at the back of my neck. “I had myself fixed two years ago. You’re safe with me, Anita.”

“Please, Micah, please don’t.”

He bit harder, just this side of drawing blood, and my body went passive, calm. It was as if he’d hit a switch I didn’t know I had. When he pressed himself inside me, he was slick, and I knew that sometime when I’d been paying attention to Jean-Claude inside my head, he’d spread more soap on himself, allowing that thick hardness to slide more easily inside me.

He pinned me to the wall and slid inside me, one tight inch at a time. It wasn’t that he was long so much as he was wide—wide enough that it was just this side of pain to have him work himself inside me, even with the soap.

He pushed until most of him was inside me, and there was a stopping point. Then he began to draw himself out, slowly, so slowly. Then in again, slowly, still having to push himself, to work to make room for himself inside me. I stood pinned against the wall, passive, unmoving. It wasn’t like me. I moved during sex. But I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to stop, and there was no thinking, just the feel of him moving in and out of me. I wasn’t as tight now, and the soap had given way to my own wetness, so that he began to move more smoothly in and out of me. He was gentle, but he was so big that even gentle was almost overwhelming. He came to the end of my body before the full shaft of him was inside me. I could feel him bumping against my cervix at the end of each stroke. Most women find having their cervix bumped painful, but some women find it pleasurable. His size was intimidating, but when I realized it didn’t hurt, in fact that it felt wonderful, a part of me that was still sane, still keeping track of some safety measures, relaxed and shut down. My last measure of control went away. I didn’t want sex. That was just a means to an end. I wanted to feed. I wanted to eat his lust, drink his heat, bathe in his energy. The thought brought a sound low in my throat.

Micah braced himself against the wall, his body pinning mine completely, and began to find a rhythm, still gentle, but quicker. He was being so careful of me, and I didn’t want him careful.

I heard a voice that didn’t quite sound like mine. “Harder.”

His voice came out squeezed tight. “It will hurt if I do it harder.”

“Try me.”

“No.”

“Micah, please, just do it, please. If it hurts I’ll tell you. Please.” He’d been less controlled in the other room, and I realized why. He truly was afraid of hurting me because he was inside me. When he was just rubbing himself on my body, he hadn’t had to worry about damaging me. Now he did. It gave him an edge of control that kept me from feeding. He was a Nimir-Raj, and he had enough power to keep me out. Unless he