He was close. As he knelt before me, his white hair was wild and unkempt. Of course, he didn’t look like he’d been sitting in the dirt for weeks. But he was as disheveled as I’d ever seen him. My mind tried to pull the pieces together—he was okay, he had suffered—but it was too hard to tug them into a thread of reason.
“You don’t have to drink human blood.” The words were said calmly, quietly, yet I sensed a bolt of panic in them. Inside me? Everything felt muddled.
Blood. Against my will, my body perked at the word, the thirst renewing painfully.
“You can drink from me, little viper. It will complete the transformation and end your pain.”
I jerked my head back.
His grip never broke contact. He drew closer, so, so close. The other hand cradled the back of my head. I had no strength to resist.
He tilted his neck, exposing the vulnerable, pale flesh.
Blood.
I could sense it, the huntress in me waking.
The human in me craved death.
She was so weak.
He tipped my head closer to his neck. Nearly touching. I ground my mouth shut, sharp pain radiating from my jaw at the force.
Wrong. It’s wrong.
“Drink, Samara.” A pulse of command sliced through me. It wasn’t a thrall, but my lips parted of their own accord. I’d held out so long. I knew it would make me a monster. There could be no going back.
But I was so, so thirsty. And that part of me I couldn’t destroy wanted to survive more than I wanted to die a human.
I bit down.
My fangs ripped his flesh open, and my brutality was rewarded.
Bliss.
Creamy, vibrant blood coated my mouth. Instinct guided me, and I took immediate swallows. The dimness that had coated my senses went first, sharpening my awareness of the thirst. I bit down harder. Wetness coated my chin, but I paid it no mind. The only thing that mattered was the blood coursing through my veins, filling me with strength.
As if terrified he would leave, my arms unfurled, clutching him desperately. His hands didn’t move away from cradling me.
“That’s it, little viper.” The words came as a distant groan. “Take what you need. It’s all yours, anyway.”
His voice soothed the beast in me, but I didn’t let go. I drank deeply. I was dying of thirst, and he wasn’t just water. He was the freshest, most perfect drink, made just for me.
Raphael’s taste was a thousand times more potent than his scent. Cedar and night and everything I’d ever wanted.
He slumped a bit in my grip. Was I taking too much?
Need more,the predator inside me snarled.
So I took more.
“It’s all for you,” he murmured. “Drink your fill, little vampire.”
Vampire.
The word broke through the bloodlust, loathing chasing away the bliss. How easily I’d broken. Given in to the monster that lurked inside. I pushed away weakly, pulling my fangs out. The taste still coated my mouth, and as repulsive as my once-more rational mind found it, I licked my lips.
Raphael watched me for a moment, assessing, but all I could see was his neck.
