The smoothness of her teeth across my skin sent my pulse pounding as I fought for breath. "You won't leave?" she asked. "Promise you won't.
She wasn't asking me to be her scion; she was only asking me not to leave. "I won't leave."
"You give this to me?"
Shaking inside, I whispered, "Yes."
Ivy exhaled, sounding as if she had been freed. My blood rose, mixing with my lingering fear of the unkown to drive her to a fever pitch. Her lips touched my lower neck and vertigo spun the room, burning tracings of desire to settle deep and low in me. I breathed it in like smoke, the rising passion starting a feeling of abandonment inside. I didn't care anymore if it was right or wrong. It just was.
-- Kim Harrison, A Fistful of Charms
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