The crone's brow rose at the offer. She then smiled at the Viking king before pulling his wrist to her lips. She didn't drink right off, but she wouldn't wait long. Biting was fun, but biting one's self could be a little tedious.
"One would think you'd want to reclaim me, Mr. Northman." It was a small tease. She knew this was exactly what he wanted, and he knew this was what she wanted as well. Her magic was strong, and his blood had made changes. Their sharing had made changes to them both, apparently more permanent in her than in him. But then, she did not need blood to stay alive.
She licked at the blood on his skin before pressing her lips firmly down and sucking at the blood. Her small hands grasped hard on his arm, nails digging into his flesh. She could probably make her nails hard and sharp enough to break skin, let more blood loose; she didn't. Just sharp enough that he'd feel a little pain, just a small bit, with the pleasure.
The blood, his blood, was intoxicating. She felt the warmth grow low in her stomach and hummed softly. It wasn't the blood so much as the connection that made things feel right again. They would need more feedings, more times together to be what they were, but this was needed. She would take as much as he would give, so she took.