She slept, not because she had been able to calm herself enough to fall into blissful unawareness, but because Bastian had forced her to.
Just a little bit,he had murmured as the pad of his thumb had brushed over the space between her brows. Her blue eyeshad lightened with drowsy exhaustion as she stared up at him. He had not felt any anger from her at his actions, just lazy shock. He would honor her wishes about not stealing into her mind—until she asked, of course. But she could not be awake during this storm. Each crashing wave against the side of the ship stoked her fear, which made the ocean roil harder, faster, deeper, and the wind whip more furiously. If she didn’t sleep, it would never end.
Bastian would explain as soon as Luella awoke. He would fall to his knees and press his brow to the harsh ground of the wooden floor if that was what it took. Her quiet understanding and gentle acceptance beat against him, settling low in the pit of his stomach and seeping throughout his cold limbs. It was a feeling he would not forget: her forgiveness.
Not quite, but the promise of it, the understanding that, in time, it would be bestowed upon him.
As long as he didn’t fuck up.
Which was more than likely, considering the small, cramped storage room he had taken her to—her scent teased him, the lack of light making his mind go wild.
And… the few crates stacked against the wall were full.
Ofblood.
Stale and musty. The iron tang burned the back of his throat with each inhale, but as soon as he had set foot on the ship, it had nearly driven him to tear through each room until he found it.
Blood stores.
Vale had put a supply of blood on the shipforBastian. The vampire didn’t want to acknowledge what that information did to his heart. He was torturing himself by being near the blood, had thought he could grab a bottle and chug himself into a stupor while she slept, but she was on his lap, soft and sweet, and he could not stomach the thought of her waking up and finding him, eyes scarlet and blood dripping down his chin froma frenzy. He had seen her reaction to him drinking before—he knew it made her uncomfortable.
The sloshing of the blood inside dusty glass bottles within the crates was like a heartbeat he could not ignore, throbbing in time with his fangs. As the ship rocked and Luella rested on his lap, Bastian traced the swirling patterns etched along the wooden panels of the walls. He thought of the treacherous feline that he had left in a tiny storage closet, along with a carelessly thrown blanket. Dyara, Lya, and Akira were in the neighboring closet. Bastian wasn’t so cruel as to place the wolves in the same room as the helpless kitten.
The distractions he plucked from midair helped only slightly in dulling his hunger.
Until it didn’t.
A wave crashed against the side of the ship, his only warning the increase in the howling wind. The entire ship rocked to the side, forcing Bastian to brace a hand on the ground to stop from falling. His other hand slammed up onto Luella’s shoulder, cradling her against his lap. Her heart stuttered, limbs twitching.
And the crates stacked against the wall… toppled to the side, sending corked glass bottles shattering against the floor, the blood within spilling from the cracks and the mess of shattered glass and splintered wood.
Even stale, the scent of the blood made Bastian’s body lock up. Luella jerked against his lap, small hands shooting out to grasp his chest as she woke up with a drowsy gasp.
"What was that?" she said huskily.
He clenched his jaw so hard that he felt his teeth threaten to snap. Good. Maybe if his fangs broke, then he wouldn’t feel so tempted to sink them into her neck, tear into her delicate flesh and suck her dry.
Gods.
The white feathers of Luella’s wings shivered as she pushed herself up. Bastian was strung so tight, he felt his body might splinter with the effort of holding back. Breathing through his mouth, he stared and stared at the red rivulets soaking the wooden floor. Streams trickled toward them with the ship’s rocking, scarlet licking at her bare toes. His mouth watered. He wanted to suck them clean.
"Bastian?" she questioned, holding her body at an odd angle as she stared up at him, wings folded close to her back and one thigh notched on his, the other leg stretched behind her, almost brushing the shattered bits of glass and splintered pieces of wood.
He didn’t answer. His breath sawed in and out of his chest—ragged, primal—as he tried to hold himself back from her.
The ship groaned, throwing them both to the side again. He couldn’t catch her, could barely catch himself. All of his focus was on trying not to dive for her pretty little neck. Her pulse fluttered on the soft skin under her jaw. His attention honed in on it, unable to break himself away from the trance she draped over him with berry-scented desire andhunger.
He found himself leaning forward, arousal thundering through his veins. Just a taste.
His lips parted, he leaned in, and?—
The ship rocked furiously, sending tiny pieces of glass skittering over the floor.
Her hand slipped to rest against his lower stomach, and a guttural sound tore free from deep within his chest. Gods, she felt so good against him. Smelled so good. He bet her blood would taste divine—even more so from the soft flesh of her inner thigh, suckling her skin as her thighs wrapped around his head and fingers tangled in his hair.
Slight fear washed over him. Not his.
He was too far gone to care.
