To drink from her cup was to accept her essence, to let her mark him from the inside out. He felt a flush of heat rise up his neck, a mix of shame and profound arousal. He could not say no.

The thought of refusal didn't even exist in his mind, it was a foreign concept, erased by the gravity of her presence. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he took the glass. It felt cool against his palm, contrasting with the heat radiating from the liquid within.
He brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. She watched him with a predator's grace, a faint smile playing on her lips as she saw the devotion warring with his instinct.
He drank. The taste was unlike anything he had ever known…earthy, warm, and undeniably her. It was a taste of submission, of being claimed.