Page 112 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

I don’t respond. I can’t.

Fear unravels inside of me.

I knew he was dangerous, but I thought that was because he was a criminal, a gangster, a man who had no qualms about ending the lives of two abusive men to protect me and other women and children.

But a vampire? That’s beyond anything I’d ever thought possible.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he has the audacity to say.

But I am afraid. I’m terrified of him, of what he did to me, but most of all, of how he makes me feel.

Because it isn’t just fear that renders me speechless, it’s lust, too. Beneath the quaking of my body is desire. Thick, potent, desire. My body betrays me, my clit fluttering at the memory of his mouth on me, of his cock buried deep inside me as we fucked. I recall the way his fangs impaled my neck, how the pain gave way to intense pleasure, how I’d come multiple times as he drank my blood. My nipples harden, my pulse quickens, my heart thumps in my chest. My whole body is alight with want and need, and I hate myself for it.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” I seethe.

He hesitates, then strides towards the tray of food Viktor left behind. Picking up the plate, he approaches me. “You need to keep your strength up.”

“What, so you can keep me alive and feed off me?”

“I’ve already slaked my thirst,” he replies, picking up a sliver of beef and offering it to me.

“But you don’t deny you want to,” I say, smacking his hand away. He drops the meat back onto the plate and places it on the floor at our feet. Slowly, he rises, and I can feel his gaze track all the way up my body. Desire punctuates the air between us, and I have to force myself not to reach for him. I have to remind myself what he is and the truth he hid from me.

“It’s true,” he admits, his fangs dropping once again. “Your blood is like nothing I’ve ever tasted before.”

“So that’s all you want?” I shake my head, then force my feet to move, side-stepping him. That shouldn’t hurt me, but it does.

“Edie,” he snaps, his hand grasping my bicep as he forces me to face him.

“Yes, I want to drink from you, and I want to fuck you whilst I do it,” he says, his voice lowering to a deep rumble that washes me in sin, and the urge to let him do both almost overwhelms me.

“So that’s why I’m here? Not only am I your food, but I’m also your fucking sex slave.” I curl my fists, anger coursing through my body.

“No, you’re here because I can’t afford for you to tell anyone about us.”

More hurt wells inside of me, but I shove it aside. “And if I say I’ll keep your secret, will you let me go?”

He thinks for a moment, then leans in close, brushing his lips against my ear. “No. I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

I press my eyes shut, teetering between abject rage and undeniable need. He may not be able to glamour me like he had Henrietta, but he sure as fuck has a hold over me, and I don’t know what to make of it.

“So you lied,” I say, shoving him against the chest, trying to shake free from his hold.

His grip tightens. “I said what I needed to say in the moment.”

“You pig.”

“I’m at the top of the food chain, Edie. I’m the furthest from a pig a man can get.”

“So what, you just keep me here indefinitely until I’m old and withered, then discard me when you’re done?”

This time when I tug my arm from his grasp, he lets me go.

And then the truth of everything that’s passed between us hits me. He’s done this before. He’s kept someone else prisoner. Basilia. Except she killed herself before he could.

“You bastard. That’s what you did to Basilia, didn’t you?”

“Edie, it’s not what you think. That was different.”