She just hoped he had forgiven her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Don’t give up,”Kitty’s voice whispered in Cordon’s ear.
It was nothing but a dream, of course. Thanks to him and Seraphina, Kitty would be occupied with the shop. Right now, she was probably bent over her worktable in a fury of excitement.
Ah, that was a lovely thought, imagining Kitty’s remarkable dresses worn by members of society, perhaps even royalty. She would never have to struggle with money again. Perhaps it was unreasonable to think so positively, but no one else had to know what he was imagining. In his mind, Kitty rose to the top of her craft and became the most sought-after dressmaker in London. She fell in love with a kind, wealthy man and wanted for nothing. A worthy happily-ever-after for a remarkable woman.
“It’s progressing faster than I expected,” Dr. Rysel said.
What was his physician doing in his bedchamber?
“Is he going to die?” Kitty asked.
There was something in her voice that bothered him. He stared at the blankets that were draped over his head.
Fear.
It wasn’t a dream. He was awake and Kitty was afraid for him. That was better than being afraidofhim. If Seraphina had fulfilled his wish, Kitty was now aware of vampires. He tried to move, but his limbs would not obey him.
“Thereisone way to reverse the effects,” Dr. Rysel said.
Of course his physician was still trying to save him, despite it being pointless. He would die as his maker had. He could only hope it would happen while he was asleep. Then the pain would be over.
“I’ll do anything,” Kitty whispered.
“Let him feed on you.”
Footfalls. Kitty was pacing.
“He’s already done that,” she said.
She sounded so scared. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“He was not open to love before,” Dr. Rysel said. “His resistance, or yours, or both, prevented the bond from forming.”
Cordon drifted away again and when he came back, he was sitting upright, with Kitty straddling his lap. She threaded her fingers through his hair and drew his face to a ragged gash on her neck. He instinctively licked, then shuddered as her honey-sweet blood filled his mouth. He’d nearly forgotten how delicious she tasted.
“Bite me,” Kitty whispered.
“You do not know what you’re asking,” he said.
He was so weak that he might not be able to stop. It was too dangerous. He tried to pull back, but she had a firm grip on his hair.
“Please, Cordon. Lady Kilkenny told me what you are. I think…I’ve known for some time. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
He turned his head. What was the point of drinking when he was just going to die, anyway? His throat hurt too much to let anything down but air.
Her blood coated his lips and dripped down his chin. The warmth of it on his cool skin combined with her sharp, cherry scent made him dizzy, like he had drunk an entire flagon of mead.
“Bite me,” Kitty whispered, again.
The last of his restraint vanished beneath the pleading in her tone. He extended his fangs and sunk them deep into her flesh, then swallowed mouthful after mouthful of her delicious blood. It coursed through his body, warming him from the inside out, taking with it his aches and pains.
If he kept drinking, he was going to kill her.
Something snapped in his head, like a rope suddenly stretched taut.
