Page 85 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

A whine releases from her lips, her body stiffening with pleasure as her thighs trap the dildo between her legs. She comes with a soft cry, and I release a stuttered breath as her body softens and her muscles relax. Pressing one last kiss against her throat, I stand, and pull the cover back over her sleeping form.

Seconds pass, and I step back into the shadows.

“Sleep well,” I say, before climbing out of the window and disappearing into the night.

“You’re on edge,” Viktor observes, his statement as irritating as a paper cut.

“I’m hungry,” I snap, rolling my neck until it pops.

“Then it’s just as well dinner’s served.” Logan smirks, striding into our living room, two women in tow. They both reek of lust and sweat, their lithe bodies barely covered by short skirts and crop tops. Both of them have the same glazed look when glamoured. There’s no fear, just vacant expressions and empty smiles pulling up their lips.

“You brought them from the club?” I ask. The doors shut half an hour ago, and dawn is still two hours off, but I’m not ready to be left alone with my thoughts. All they do is wander to Edie, and the wreckage I’ve made of everything.

“They’ve not been fed on tonight, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I’m not concerned,” I say, eying the pair. Beneath their skin, their blood pulses. My fangs drop, and my darkness surges to life.

“Do you have a preference?” Logan asks, his fangs lengthening as the women stand in the centre of the room. One is a petite blonde. The other is taller, curvy, her hair dyed an unnatural blue.

“No.”

“Very well. I’ll take this one.” Logan moves towards the blonde, sweeping her hair aside before he wraps an arm around her waist and buries his fangs into her neck. I’m not surprised by his choice. Lately, all he’s been feeding from are women who resemble Henrietta.

“I’ll take my leave,” Viktor says, pushing to his feet.

“You’re not hungry?” I question.

“I’ve already slaked my thirst,” he replies, lifting the empty glass he’s holding before placing it on the side table beside him. “If you’ll excuse me. I’m going to rest.”

“Wait,” I say, stepping towards him and guiding him to the corner of the room. “I want to ask you something.”

“What is it?” his gaze tracks to Logan, and the whimpering sounds from the woman he’s drinking from. Pity flickers behind his eyes, though I’m not sure if it’s towards the woman or Logan. Likely both.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?” he asks.

“Refrain from drinking from the source. Does it repulse you?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Then why?”

“You know why. I may be a vampire, Dorian, but I’m still a man. I drink blood to survive, because I have no choice. But I can choose how I consume it.”

“It’s that easy?”

“It’s never easy. It’s a battle I fight every second of my existence.”

“How do you fight it? Tell me,” I press, my hunger now a relentless ache as the scent of blood thickens the air. I know, deep down, even if I feed tonight, it will not satisfy me. Nothing has since I sampled Edie’s blood. Everything else tastes wrong.

“My humanity. Or should I say, what’s left of it?”

“Your humanity?”

“Yes.” He sighs. “Sometimes I wish I could switch it off. To live as you and Logan do, like the rest of our clan does, without remorse. But I can’t. Whenever the desire to feed from a human overwhelms me, I remind myself of who I was before. I allow myself to feel. I saved lives, Dorian. I didn’t end them.”

“We don’t either. We stop before that happens.”