Brigan almost felt guilty for feeding, for siphoning the honeyed radiance from her skin, as if tonight wasn’t about that, but how was he meant to resist? He was accustomed to seeing desire as a pale glow—shimmering cream, the occasional soft yellow—but Catalina’s pleasure was unlike anything he’d ever seen, emanating from her in pulsing, golden waves. For so long, it had seemed only a cruel joke that he was cursed to feed off the joy and pleasure of humans when he couldn’t find joy and pleasure himself, but this—this was bliss.
