Carmine had never dreamed of feeding from another person before. She’d lived on synth all her life, and then the matron had always drilled it into their heads that their spouses would probably not allow them to bite. The few times she’d pictured it, the act had been purely mechanical — like poking a straw into a drink, or putting one’s head under the tap rather than getting a glass. Nothing extraordinary. Just different than how she normally did it.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Drinking from Atticus waseverything.Not just because she felt completely full for the first time in her life, and not because it fulfilled an innate urge she’d never acknowledged.
It was him. The way he smelled. The warmth of his skin. The weight of his hands on her waist. The low, raspy rumble of his voice. When the bliss of releasing her venom hit her, some stranger took over her body, flushing her with needs she’d never even known existed.
Arousal.The craving not just for blood, but for touch. For his gruff noises, his hot, puffing breaths, the spotlight of his absolute focus on her and her alone.
She knew all about arousal because she’d read about it, had been instructed on how to stoke it in a partner. She knew that sexual interest came with a series of symptoms like lubrication, elevated heart rate, restlessness, and a higher body temperature. An orgasm was the end goal, and resulted in a rush of endorphins as well as biological material. If she was lucky, the matron explained, sex would be quick, fruitful, and relatively painless.
Why didn’t anyone say it was likethat?
Carmine wanted to storm back to the crypt and shake the old woman by the hair. If she’d known that it could feel like that, she would have tried to defile herself a decade ago.
The memory of his taste, the sounds he made, how he’d made her feel with his big, rough hands and hungry kisses haunted her every second of the night. As did the stupid word that had ruined it all:defilement.
Her orgasm and the lush meal she’d sipped from Atticus’s throat were tainted by that word. As soon as it left her mouth, he’d gone cold and stiff, his expression almost horrified. In a choked voice, he’d asked,“Is that what you’re angling for, Carmine? Is that— Did youplanthis?”
She was too overwhelmed to try lying, so she’d remained silent, hoping he’d let it go and not notice the guilt written across her face. Of course it only took him a second to put it all together, and when he did…
Well, she supposed he could have reacted in worse ways than giving her the cold shoulder. It hurt, though.
It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t given her a taste of paradise before ripping it all away from her, but she had no one to blame for that but herself.
Drawing her knees up to her chest, she leaned away from him and turned her attention to the passenger’s window. If he could be believed, this was the last night they’d be in the RV together. They’d meet whoever Harlan sent and she’d be passed off at dawn.
After that, there was no telling what would happen to her.
The thought terrified her. She didn’t want to leave Atticus. Even when he was angry, he was at least familiar. His presence comforted her. He made her feel safe for the first time in her life. The thought of separating from him made her want to throw up the precious gift he’d given her.
Would Michael be nice? Or would she be passed off and find herself in a worse situation? What if she never saw Atticus again?
Something clawed at her insides when she imagined getting into a car without him. Something ugly and fearful. Something thatscreamed.
Atticus’s anger had sucked all the air out of the RV, and that thing in her couldn’t stand it. She understood seducing him came with risks, but Carmine underestimated how it would feel to be rejected, let alone endure his quiet sort of wrath.
Fuck no,he’d said. Why hadn’t she taken the hint?
Her stomach turned again. Would she be able to try again with another man? A day ago she wouldn’t have hesitated, butnow she imagined it’d be a bit like answering the question,“If you were trapped under a boulder, would you cut your arm off with a spoon to survive?”
Yes, if her only other option was a slow death. But she didn’twantto.
Carmine turned her face into her arms. Her hair slid over to create a curtain between them. She missed her veil. She missed being able to hide — not just her face, but everything about her. He’d seen her unveiled, inside and out. Her veil wouldn’t have erased the fact that he knew more about her than anyone in the world, nor wipe away the memory of his touch, but it would have been a comfort, at least.
“Carmine.”
She jumped. Her muscles coiled tight. He sounded gruff. Cold. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Adrenaline made her head swim and her palms sweat.Is this it?
Any minute now he’d tell her that he’d lied, that something awful was coming and she was powerless to stop it. He’d tell her how repulsed he was by her attempt to seduce him and that she’d be lucky if he didn’t tell her groom.
Unconsciously holding her breath, she gripped her arms so hard, her claws bit into her skin.
“We’re coming up on an EVP checkpoint. I’ve already got pre-approval with the guard — he’s a friend — but if we get stopped, just act normal and don’t say anything.”
She had no idea what normal meant. If he wasn’t so angry at her, she would have asked him. Instead, she nodded and squeezed her eyes shut.You’re okay. It’s just a checkpoint. He’s not getting rid of you.
Yet.
