Aspen's eyes widened as Samantha's soft, slightly dampened skin brushed against his. Her hybrid magic was potent, a siren's call to his own ancient nature. He felt his resolve waver—his duty to the Grove clashed with a sudden, uncharacteristic urge to indulge in the warm, pulsing life before him.
Her hands slid up his arms, her fingers tracing the lines of his smooth skin with a gentle curiosity that sent shivers down his spine. The warmth from her touch seemed to seep into his core, igniting a fire he had not felt in centuries.
"Samantha," he murmured, his voice thick with the unspoken tension in the air, "you don't know what you're doing."
But the words didn't have the effect he'd intended. Instead of deterring her, they seemed to only spur Samantha on. She leaned closer, her breath sweet and warm against his cheek. "But I want to," she whispered.
