But he’s smiling at me, and reaching for me, and there’s really no time to get away, or anywhere to go, since I’m caught in some kind of trap. So there’s a moment here where my anxiety is through the roof.
It’s a very short moment, though. Because his hand comes up to my cheek and I feel his love. It relaxes me.
A trick.I try and make those words form in my head in Lucia’s voice. Because if she says it, it’s true, isn’t it?
But Lucia is definitely not here. Not even in my head. And the words are just me, looking for a reason to doubt him.
My maker.
My god.
“My Little Baby,” Josep says, looking down at me with adoration. His eyes flash purple. “What is going through that head of yours?”
Be his, my own inner voice says.Be his and he will give you everything.
I blink. Relax. Breathe. Smile. Then I bow my head, drop to my knees, and press my lips to the tops of his feet.
Which surprises me, because I don’t even know where this comes from.
“Oh, that is cute, Little Baby. What god doesn’t like adoration? We all do. It’s flattering.” But he’s leaning down. Far enough to gently grab my arm and pull me to my feet. “But all that is over now. You’re already mine. You made the promise when you drank me. And I made a promise back when I drank you.”
I frown, still looking down. Because his promise feels a little bit like marriage. Did I marry this monster when I drank his blood?
I can’t look at him. If I do, I might scream, and if I scream, he’ll know. He’ll figure out that this is a lie, that I’m using him, that I hate him. That I think he’s a demon from Hell and that I have no desire to be his plaything.
But there’s no reprieve for me because his finger is tipping my chin up. My eyes follow—reluctantly—until I am staring straight into his soul.
Or lack of one. A pit of evil might be a better way to describe what’s beyond those eyes of his. They are absolutely purple now. No doubt about it. “Do you need more blood?”
I exhale loudly. “Need, my lord?”
He laughs, and, to my surprise, so do I. “Do youwantmore blood, Little Baby?” His hand comes up to my cheek, caressing it like I’m his most cherished possession.
I do. I want to suck on him for the rest of my life. But I have questions. “If this isn’t real”—I pan my hand around the room—“am I really drinking?”
“Come,” he says, taking my hand. “You’ve earned a little baby peek.”
“A peek?” I don’t understand. I feel like I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole and all around me is a sparkling, shining, glittering, blood-covered Wonderland.
But Josep is pulling me now. Across the room, through a door, and then… it’s dark. There is nothing beyond this door but emptiness.
Josep stops in the middle of this emptiness then maneuvers me in front of him, his hands on my shoulders, his hips pressing up against my lower back, his hardness very evident. “Concentrate,” he says. “Look into the emptiness, Little Baby, and see what’s there.”
I lean forward a little, squinting, trying to do what he says. And I’m just about to say it’s not working when the space shimmers and a kind of fog appears.
A gasp comes out of my mouth. And at the same time Josep’s hands slide off my shoulders and down the front of me. His fingers fondle my breasts as the image in the fog resolves.
It’s us. We are on the floor of the cave all tangled together.
Which makes sense, because I knew this. I remember this.
Our naked bodies are covered in blood. It is smeared all over us. I’m on top of him, leaning down into his neck, drinking. His hands are caressing me, rubbing up and down my legs and over my back. His eyes are closed, his head tipped up to give me easy access to his jugular, and he is moaning. Every time I draw his blood out of him, he moans. Like we’re fucking.
Except we’re not.
“Not yet,” Josep says, still fondling my breasts on this side of things. “Sex is… well, a bonus. It’s the drink I want, Little Baby. It’s the drink I will take whether you agree or not. Sex is something else. Sex is something you must take from me.”
I can’t move. I can’t speak. I don’t have anywhere to go and I have no idea what to say back to that.
