Carrick had not thought about the implications for an alpha werewolf of baring one's throat. He only thought of his own red thirst, and the glorious heat that would stream from the other man's veins. At first, he thought the uncertainty in Russell's eyes was the thought of the bite itself, not the offering of the throat. When it dawned on him that this was a sign of trust, and even of submission, his eyes blazed even more intensely with his dark hunger.
The vampire drew Russell's throat down to him. never ceasing the insistent, demanding movement of his hips that answered the brutally hard thrusting inside him. His mouth fastened hard on the tanned skin and his fang teeth sank deep into the offered flesh. The taste for Russell's blood sent his head spinning. It was lust and life itself made liquid.
Carrick gasped and moaned against Russell's throat, body surging upwards again and again as he drank down the werewolf's life essence.