She was a witch.
She was the one thing he hated most in the world, and yet she was the very thing he couldn’t seem to do without. When she wasn’t near, the feeling was one of loss, as if he walked into a room and couldn’t remember what he was in there for.
He didn’t understand why—he was the king of vampires for God’s sake. It was ludicrous for him to even want to protect a human so fiercely, let alone a witch.
Perhaps it was as simple as he’d spent an eternity in darkness, and for the first time in a very long time, she made him want to live in the light.
But his past held so much darkness, a part of him he wanted to tell her about. But if he did, he knew she’d never understand, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. His hand rose to his chest, as if trying to quell the guilt and fear churning in his heart. He should tell her …
At that thought, his chest tightened even more, making it hard to breathe. How tragic, how brutal, it would be to lose the joy she brought over something he could not change.
He’d keep his past hidden; she would never have to know.
Some secrets were best kept buried.
He didn’t knowhow long he lay there staring at her. Could have been hours, could have been minutes. It wasn’t long enough; no amount of time would be long enough. His body was weak, his muscles heavy and shaky, a state he wasn’t accustomed to. He needed to drink to heal. A wise man would move and replenish himself. But it had been such a long time since he’d been able to lie beside her, he didn’t want to move. He wanted to soak this moment in as if it was the very first and very last one of their lives.
His eyes drifted to the steady pulse in her neck, to the sweet throb of her life force that would remove the gnawing ache from his bones in a few seconds. He sucked in a breath and the scent of the coppery, honeyed sweetness of her blood teased hisnose. Thirst clawed at him and his veins felt like sandpaper. He needed todrink, but he resisted the urge to place his lips on her skin. To bite. Suck. Sink inside her, come alive as they become one, fill the insatiable hunger. He swallowed past razor blades in his throat.
Amelia’s eyes fluttered open.
His breath left his lungs as the green emerald of her gaze sank into his.
“Karson,” she breathed. Her hand went immediately to his brow to check his temperature. A surge of sugary warmth rushed through him. He wasn’t used to having anyone check on his well-being. He didn’t realize he needed it until now.
“Hello, angel.” His voice came out raw and rasping, and his fingers shook as he clutched her delicate hand in his. Kissed it, held it near his mouth, his thumb resting on the beat of her pulse.
“Are you still in pain? How are you feeling?” She spoke quickly, worry creasing her brow.
“I feel like I’ve been stabbed with a bone-ash dagger. Nothing I can’t handle.”
She didn’t smile like he thought she would. Instead, her gaze bore into his as if she was trying to read his mind, sparking around the edge of his brain like a soft flutter of electricity. “Do you need blood?”
At the mere mention of the word, thirst roared, ripping through his veins like a flame. He knew she’d offer him hers. Or leave the room and collect it for him.
He forced a smile. “I’m alright. I just want to lie here for a moment.”
She chewed her bottom lip, guilt darkening her features. “Monique thinks a witch is working with Sarah?”
He stroked his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s entirely possible she crafted her failed plan all on her own. But Sarah canbe convincing when she needs to be.” His voice hardened. If they were working with her, she probably threatened their families. It might also be a willing retribution for the witch he’d murdered.
She moved her hand from under her cheek and cradled it against his. “You can’t go out alone anymore, it’s not safe.”
He’d been a gods-damned fool to fall for Amelia’s voice on a recording. He should have been able to tell she wasn’t really there. “They caught me off guard. A mistake I will not allow to happen again.” A shiver ran over her skin and her pulse picked up at the anger in his voice. He softened his tone. “You have no need to worry.”
She sat up abruptly, pulling her hands from his. “I have every need to worry—you could have died!” she cried.
He sat up beside her, his muscles feeling like they were made of wet earth. He rested his back against the bed head, his gaze following hers to where the dagger had sunk into his flesh. The black storm that had invaded his body had faded to a pale bruise, and the ash had withered and died. But he needed to drink to heal. He hated feeling so weak, so … pathetically human. He smiled softly to comfort her. “I’m remarkably hard to kill.”
“But you are not impossible to kill.”
“You worry too much.” His brushed her hair off her face, dropping it down when she noticed it still shook. “I have faced far worse than Sarah and her foolish lowborns and survived.”
Her eyes glittered like dew on spring grass. She was getting angry; she was ridiculously cute when she was angry. “Your arrogance will get you killed.”
She kept talking, but her words were muddled in his head. It was hard to concentrate around the hunger sucking his body dry. He bit the inside of his mouth so hard it bled, and he swallowed it down. The damp was nice, but his own blood was barely a drip in a dry dam.
“Karson?”
