Zanna heard the give in the fabric, but couldn't bring herself to care. This was her nature, the deepest part of her – not the mild-mannered herbalist that the humans saw. And Byron dangling it in front of her, teasing her with the promise of more, was just too much to resist. Especially considering the lingering, lovely feeling that the bite left her with. A contact high, perhaps, feedback from the high that her blood gave him.
The movement of his hand, the press of his fingers and his thumb, left her moaning low in her throat, arching her hips into his touch. Her fingers found his shoulders, clinging, her nails digging in through his shirt. "Fuck," she gasped, shivering as the pad of his thumb brushed over a particularly sensitive bit, stroking her in just the right way.