She cried out, nails digging and breaking skin. He'd heal quickly enough, faster now that he'd had her blood, not just a taste. The pleasure of it was only more so as she felt what he felt. At first it had scared her; she'd never been part of something, shared herself so willingly. There was always something hidden, even when she told the truth, but not with him.
Her fingers were in his hair, smearing what little blood was on them there. The kiss was taken and returned almost greedily. She was not one to want her bloodshed without reason, good reason, yet with him, she often found that she relished it.
It amused her to think for a moment on how often the sheets were changed on the bed. The thought was fleeting as there were more interesting ones to consider. Such as where she might take his blood.