“More.”
A smirk curled his lips, baring dual fangs.
I knew it! I hadn’t imagined them.
“My pleasure. And I mean that.” He moved his wrist forward, then quickly pulled it back as I opened my mouth. “But, be careful what you demand from me, young one. What I give, I can easily take away. Now drop your gaze.”
I snarled. Balthazar just waited patiently until hunger twisted my insides again. I had no fucking choice, and he knew it. Besides, no one else was here to witness my downfall. I lowered my eyes to the dip of his throat, right above his collarbone, where those beautiful tattoos curled up and into his hair.
Nothing. Just silence.
My whole body tensed, ready to fight him again. I opened my mouth to demand he get off me, only to find his blood already trickling onto my lips and tongue. I swallowed, moaning. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. I swallowed and swallowed, greedy for it—until pain burned through every damn cell in my body. Grinding my teeth didn’t help me contain it. I screamed.
The Count pulled his wrist away, watching as I twisted and writhed under his steely thighs. I lost all sense of time, but eventually the agony was replaced by a feeling of euphoria—and strength. The Count regarded me steadily, and though he appeared relaxed, his thighs held me tightly in place as if he was waiting.
A violent wave of lust exploded through my body, and my already hard cock and aching balls tightened to painful proportions. Hissing, I shifted my lower half, loving the feel of his weight on top of me and wanting it where I could grind against him. I didn’t know why my body was reacting so brutally to his nearness, but I didn't want him to think I was fighting him,so with every bit of self-control I possessed, I forced my body to still, only my chest heaving and my jaw clenching.
I hated that he was right. I craved his blood already, and, instinctively, I knew it would be my salvation. For a vampire as old as him, giving me his blood clearly didn’t mean anything life-changing. It didn’t mean I was his, and it sure as shit didn’t mean he was mine.
“More,” I demanded hoarsely through a fog of beating pulses and the drunken haze of my thoughts. It sounded more like a plea, and I guess it was. He could deny me if I challenged him again. Understanding that, for now, he held all the power, I kept my gaze on his chest. The hand in my hair tightened slightly, pulling my head back so that my attention had to move higher. I met his gaze, but, gritting my teeth, lowered my eyes to stare at his perfect fucking mouth.
There was a beat of silence.
“That’s more like it.”
Fuck, his voice was pure sin, dark, dangerous, and full of seductive command. His wrist was close enough that I could feel the heat from his skin radiating against my lips. I suddenly wanted my mouth against it. I hungered to taste him as much as I thirsted for his blood. My need to fight surfaced. I pushed against his taught thighs, managing to get one arm free, or at least, he let me free it. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I’d actually bested him. Quickly, I grabbed his wrist and pressed my open mouth against his skin. It was instinct to slide my canines into his flesh and latch on, sucking hard. Alarm bells rang. This was only for a mating. But it felt so right…
A hiss had me looking up at him. I swallowed, and for the life of me, even though I knew I was playing with fire, I couldn’t look away. His eyes burned with a feral light, his irises pulsing with his increasing heartbeat. His lids drooped, and his power danced over my exposed skin. I drew harder, taking more and more. Hedidn’t stop me. If anything, his grip tightened, and I was sure I heard a soft groan. But it was hard to be sure as my mind fogged and blood rushed through my ears.
His hooded stare gripped mine as I swallowed more and more of his life essence. Tension built, electricity pulsing between our bodies. I kept my eyes on his, but I was acutely aware of the erection just inches from where my mouth held his wrist prisoner. Maybe taking blood did mean something? Perhaps it was as erotic, in the right circumstances, for vamps as it was for shifters? Though shifters didn’t need blood to survive, vampires did. I did.
I swallowed even more, completely wrapped in his midnight scent and dominance. I could feel him, a connection both in the blood that rushed through me and the power caressing my skin. The pain in my body eased until there was nothing other than a dull ache, but with that relief came a bone-deep tiredness. My hand slid from his wrist. I tried to lift it again, reluctant to give up the sweet lifeblood he had gifted me.
“Enough, fledgling.” And he gently pulled his wrist from my teeth. I curled my top lip, rumbling deep in my chest at the loss of his skin against mine. “You can have more later. You need to rest now.”
He thought my grumble was about the loss of his blood, not his warmth against my lips. Confused about that feeling myself, I didn’t look at him again. He huffed out a breath at my silence and lifted his weight from my chest.
“Let’s get you to bed. You need to sleep. Tomorrow will be a lot to process. This isn’t over yet, and won’t be for many days.”
I peered up at him, so sated, I didn’t care if I slept here on the ground.
He cocked a brow. “Well? Get up.”
The command in his voice and his stare were hard to ignore, even for me. Though as relaxed, almost high, I supposed, that Iwas, I didn’t want to fight him. It still took me an age to get to my feet. Not because I was being deliberately difficult, my limbs were just too wobbly. The Count waited patiently until I was up, then turned, taking quick strides away from me.
Panicked about being left alone, I took a few hasty steps.
“Shit,” I muttered, and fell against the wall. My legs shook and I felt as weak as I had when I’d first arrived in the Count’s care. “What’s happening to me?” I whispered, though he was already more than ten feet away.
The Count turned and shrugged, every hair and every piece of his suit back in perfect place. He looked cool and totally in control, whereas I felt like I’d just been flattened by a steamroller. He cocked his head, all heat gone from his gaze. Instead, there was a coldness that was disturbing. “You are becoming a vampire. A Made.”
I shuddered at the ice now tainting his whole manner. Gone were the hooded eyes and sensuous smirks. It was as if he’d just realised I was becoming one of his enemies. I took a deep breath, trying to control the panic in my chest. I was also an enemy of my own kind. For the first time in my life, my eyes burned, and it was a feat to hold back my despair. I couldn’t even begin to think about what that meant for me and my friendships. Not yet. I was too exhausted and too overwhelmed.
“Great, just another episode in the shit storm of my life,” I muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone.
The Count studied me steadily before turning away again. Yeah, I’d turn away from me too. Bed. That was all I needed now. I took two steps. Then collapsed. The Count caught me before I could hit the ground. I blinked. Damn, he was fast. He pulled my arm over his shoulders and slid an arm around my waist. “Don’t throw all my blood back at me,” he warned before the world shifted and air rushed in my ears.
Seconds later, I was being lowered to a soft bed. The room tilted, and my stomach churned, but before my blood feast could come back up, I fell into a deep all-consuming sleep.
