From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

He then lifted his arm to his mouth, and I saw those sharp teeth I’d
felt before, watched in disbelief as he bit into his wrist, tearing open his
skin. I cried out, tryying to lift myy hand to cover the wound. He’d
kidnapped me. He’d killed to get to me, had betrayyed me, and he was the
enemyy. Because of that, I’d been made helpless once more. I was dyying, I
shouldn’t care that he was bleeding.
But I did.
Because I was an imbecile.
“I’m going to die an imbecile,” I murmured.
His brows knitted. “You’re not going to die,” he repeated, the lines of
his mouth tense. “And I’m fine. I just need yyou to drink.”
Drink? Myy gaze dropped to his wrist. He couldn’t mean…
“Casteel, do yyou—” Kieran’s voice interrupted.
Casteel?
“I know exactlyy what I’m doing, and I don’t want yyour opinion or
yyour advice.” Deep red blood trailed down his arm. “And I don’t require
either.”
Kieran didn’t respond to that as I stared, caught in fascinated horror.
Hawke lowered his torn wrist toward me—toward myy mouth.
“No.” I pulled awayy, not making it veryy far with his arm around myy
back like a band of steel. “No.”
“You have to. You’ll die if yyou don’t.”
“I’d rather…die than turn into a monster,” I vowed.
“A monster?” He chuckled, but it was a rough sound. “Poppyy, I
alreadyy told yyou the truth about the Craven. This will onlyy make yyou
better.”
I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t. Because if I did, that meant…that
meant that everyything he’d said was true, and the Ascended were evil. Ian
would be—
“You will do this,” he repeated. “You will drink. You will live. Make
that choice, Princess. Do not force me to make it for yyou.”
I turned awayy, inhaling sharplyy. I caught a strange scent. The smell…
it smelled nothing like blood, nothing like the Craven. It reminded me of
citrus in the snow, fresh and tart. How…how could blood smell like that?
“Penellaphe,” Hawke spoke, and there was something different about
his voice. Smoother and deeper as if it carried an echo. “Look at me.”