“Oh my gods, I got you! I actually managed to hit you!” he laughed.
I raised a brow and sucked some blood from the tiny split on my lip, trying to make it look worse than it was. Elliot deserved some praise and self-confidence. I doubted the bastard who’d abused him all of his life had ever given him any.
“Yeah, you did. Awesome work. Now do it again.” I grinned at his groan.
“But I’m starving!” he complained.
Now I really did laugh. “You’re always starving. Ten more minutes, and we’ll go and shower. I’ll cook you steak, rare, and then you need to go to bed. We both do.” The sun was already rising, the blue sky visible through the gym window.
He flushed prettily. Fuck he was beautiful when he was bashful. My fangs lengthened, and I didn’t bother to hide them. The thought of letting him go, or worse, of him not being in this world anymore, had my chest tightening so much, I had to tip my head back and take a slow deep breath to calm my panic.
“Dav? Are you okay?”
I met his clear blue gaze. “Of course. Now, come on. If you want that steak, you need to land another punch.”
I was aware of my men watching our exchange with curious glances. Ignoring them, I focused on Elliot, and after blocking a few of his attacks, I let him strike me again.
The next day I rose from my half of the bed. I was tired and fucking hungry. Not for food, but for blood. Sleeping with Elliot was torture, but I couldn’t bare the thought of him somewhere else. I wanted him by my side, to care for…to love. But resisting the temptation to pull him beneath me and show him how much pleasure his body could take and give was getting harder and harder. I rubbed my eyes then glanced down at his face. Reaching out, I ran my fingers lightly over his messy brown curls. Dark circles marked his eyes.
I hated that sign of worry. Despite my promises to keep him safe, I couldn’t reassure him that everything would be okay. At least I had a little longer with him. The Count wasn’t returning for another week or more, but that also meant our future was on hold until I convinced Bal that Elliot was my mate and that he could be trusted.
A hand grabbed my wrist. I held back a flush at being caught touching him.
“Morning, jailer.” Elliot smiled, his eyelids heavy with sleep, but his smile faltered. “Hey, are you okay?” A small frown pulled at his brows.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”Liar.I was so messed up, I had no idea how to deal with it.
“Okay, good.” He snuggled down under the covers with a cheeky grin baring his white teeth before he turned on his side. “Then you get the shower first, and I get to stay in bed.”
Thud…
Thud…
Thud…
I blinked, inhaling sharply at the call of his blood. My cock punched out at the thought of sinking my fangs into his neck and tasting that red nectar. He’d smell of me,myscent mixed with his. Everyone would know he was mine… My heart slammed against my ribs, slow like any ancient Original vampire’s, but still fucking loud as desire and the need to feed ripped through me.
Before he noticed my predicament, I threw myself out of bed and marched into the bathroom, thankful he was facing the other way. I just needed to go to the Gambit and feed from fresh warm blood; that would quench this violent thirst.
I stepped into the shower and leaned forward under the spray, my hands flat on the cold tiles.
It wouldn’t. And I knew it.
My morning wood throbbed painfully. I was light-headed from blood hunger, but the thought of feeding on anyone other than Elliot filled me with disgust. I was old enough I didn't need to feed often, but taking blood always resulted in an intense orgasm. I shivered and fisted my cock, the thought of experiencing that with Elliot was too much. I worked myself until I shot my load all over the wet wall, gritting my teeth and holding my groan in my throat.
“Jesus,” I muttered as I washed away the evidence of my release. This was fucking torture. I needed the Count to come home. Not just for Elliot’s sake, but for mine.
The day passed quickly and uneventfully. Elliot’s company was a joy. His incessant questioning about the running of the estate; about what being an Original meant, not to mention his reaction to learning we lived indefinitely and that, yes, we could be killed by a stake to the heart or being beheaded; that we had a whole race of Originals that lived on this planet who weren’t warriors, but who blended in with human society, was absolutely adorable.
“So why do you fight Victor’s kind then?”
“Because the Mades developed the Bloodlust virus and brought the war to us, specifically the Count.”
“Why him? Why not the Vampire King?”
“Because he is as powerful as the King and has just as much, if not more, political influence. The King is weak in body and mind, he always has been. His authority is dying among our kind, and our enemies know it. His son is a young boy and not in any position to sit on the Blood Throne and run our kingdom. Whoever sits upon that throne rules our kind, all of our kind, Original and Made. If they can kill the Count, ending the King’s reign will be easy. The Count is the King’s strongest ally and advisor. He has connections across the world. Without Balthazar, the King’s defences would falter, and whoever is leading the Mades will be in a prime position to take the throne.”
Elliot’s eyes widened. “Wow,” he murmured.
