Chapter 18After Gideon finished pounding into him, Jesse didn’t want to move, or speak, or do anything but pass out right there on the living room floor. But Gideon half-carried, half-walked Jesse into the bedroom and deposited him on the bed. His skin was sticky and dry, and his body was sore. He knew he wouldn’t forget this particular lesson for a very long time—not as long as he could still see and feel the force of Gideon’s anger in the form of cuts, bites, and bruises.
He felt drained. Not just drained of energy—or of blood—but also drained of something he couldn’t quite name. Empty of something he wouldn’t miss. Each bite and cut and slice of Gideon’s fang relieved the pressure beneath his skin, provided an outlet for all the dark, bitter memories that flowed through him, choking hi
