"If your name on my lips is not your wish, Byron, then you will not hear it again." Unless there was a need, of course. It was good to store information back, to keep things for a rainy day. In that way, Zanna was like most of the Fae. But she was happy to allow herself to be distracted for the moment, to close her eyes and enjoy the press of his lips against her throat. She knew that his attention was on the thrum of her pulse, the rush of blood beneath the silky skin, but there was so much to enjoy about the sensations themselves.
The brush of his tongue drew another soft, interested sound of pleasure from her throat. The hand that had rested on his wrist dropped away, coming to lay between them, pressed against his chest. "I've watched this circus for a long time, but their reasons are still hidden from me. It's..." Her breath caught at the prick of the knife, the catch of the blade deep enough to bring a few drops of blood to the surface. You should have been paying more attention, she chided herself. But it was only a few drops.