I lift my fingers to my lips, running them over the dried remnants of blood there. Notmyblood. But his? I thought I’d summoned him in that dark abyss. But perhaps he summoned me.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. I’m trying so hard to process everything he’s sharing. And what he’s not. That’s why this feels different now. It’s the Arcane, yes. But it’s so much stronger than it’s ever been before. It’s filling me to the brim, igniting my soul, warming my arms. Beating in my chest. There’s no more hiding it away, no more denying who I am.
“It’s not okay." He leans in, eyes wild and breath heavy. “It’s not okay. I took that choice from you. You’ve spent your entire life suppressing that power, and for what? For me to rip the option away from you after little more than a week under my watch? For me to damn you under my control because I’m too selfish to just let you go?”
“Aamon, really, it’s—”
“I swear to the gods if you say it’s okay one more fucking time." He laughs, shaking his head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. There’s no coming back from this now, you get that, right? There’s no going back to your father and the High Quarter. There’s no returning to a normal life as a Watcher.Thisis who you are now.”
I lift to my knees, closing the distance between me and where he stands at the foot of my bed. “What makes you think I want to go back? What makes you think I want to be anywhere else but right here?” I tentatively lift my hand. He recoils but doesn’t retreat. I press my palm against his taut features, urging them to relax.
“You didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have eventually chosen for myself.” I reassure him. “My father is the one that has spent so much effort into suppressing who I am. Not me. And if there's anything I’ve learned in my short time with you, it’s that this is what I truly want. I just didn't know how to accept it.”
He shakes his head. “You’re just saying that. You don’t want this, Evangeline.”
“I do.” I correct him, a soft smile breaking out across my lips. “This life here with you, with Quinn and Sterling. Hells, even Zeke, in all his broodiness. It’s so much better than anything I ever had in my father’s house.”
Aamon pushes my hand away, squeezing my shoulders and pushing my arms down by my side as he leans in. “No. This isn’t a life to aspire to. You’re young, fresh. You don’t understand the violence that I’ve damned you to. A life tied to me and by proxy, Andras. A life amidst the Blood Order. An eternity of hollow need that will never be satisfied.”
I scoff, opening my mouth to argue, but he slams a fist down against the bedpost.
“Dammit, Evangeline. Listen to me!” He lifts his arm between us, one of his fingernails elongating into a point as he slices the skin on his forearm. “Do you feel that? The hunger? Theneed? You will never not chase that now. You will never exist outside of it.”
But I cannot focus on anything he’s saying anymore. All I can see. All I can hear. All I can smell is the crimson river that flows inside him. I feel my fangs elongate, ready and desperate to drink up the drops of red that have escaped his veins. It’s a blinding pain, the need for him. And I can’t even begin to process the dark thoughts that attack me—images of me ripping into him, how sweet the warmth of his insides would be as my teeth sank into them and gulped down every last drop of blood he has to offer.
“Fuck,” he stammers, realizing his error. “It’s okay, Angel. It’s okay. Drink.”
I don’t wait for him to repeat himself before I’m clamping onto his arm and letting my tongue lap up the sweet, luscious nectar he offers.
Evangeline clamps onto my forearm and gulps down my blood as if it's the sweetest thing she’s ever tasted. And though it’s been such a long time since I was this fresh in my power, I can relate to the feeling.
But fuck is her greedy little appetite doing things to me.
There’s a reason the red rooms exist. Because feeding for vampires can be innately sexual. It taps into our most natural instincts, letting that more animalistic side of ourselves have free rein. And while our kind has evolved enough to not tear apart every meal we indulge in with the need for violence, that instinct had to be replaced by something.
I let the fingers of my free hand trail over the tresses of lavender hair falling across her back, bringing her in tighter as she feeds, pushing her to drink more even though I knowI shouldn’t. I’m rock hard already, and my own bloodlust is making it near impossible for me to restrain myself.
“Okay, Angel.” I lean down, whispering in her ear, caressing the side of her head. “That’s enough.” But my words do little to tame her. She doubles down against my arm, using both hands to hold me steady against her mouth. My eyes roll back in my head at the sensation, my blood no longer freely flowing into her but rather needing to be coaxed out by her lips.
“Angel.”
Her name is a warning, despite the near whimper in my voice. A wave of pleasure rolls through me and I can’t fight it anymore. I need her gone or I need all of her. There is no in-between. I pull her off of me, in an attempt to force more space between us. But her strength surprises me and she’s lunging for my neck a mere moment later. Her fangs break my skin, sinking into the flesh just above my collarbone and my knees nearly buckle with the sensation.
“We need to stop,” I say, my muscles tightening as I force myself not to touch her. “I can’t—I’m not strong enough to resist you.” My voice is low, gruff, full of concentrated control.
“So don’t,” she says against the shell of my neck, her lips wet with my blood.
I close my eyes, fisting my hands into her hair as I use what little control I have left to tamp down on the desire burning like fire through me. But it doesn’t work. Thefloodgates have been opened and with her now bound to me, there’s no more resisting whatever this is.
“Fuck it,” I growl, pulling her away from my neck by her hair and crashing against her lips. I can taste my blood on her tongue, the melding of us together exhilarating. She’s scrambling over the edge of the bedframe to get closer to me. And without hesitation, I lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist and shoving off the fragments of her dress.
One hand under her ass—the weight of it as good as sin in my palm—and one hand around the back of her delicate neck, I hold her to me. Not an inch of room exists between us as I feel every point of contact between her skin and mine, crackling with electricity. Her need for my kiss is as frantic as her need for my blood and I’m trying desperately to give her what she desires. It feels so fucking good to have her, finally. To hold her against me and chase the taste of her tongue with my own.
But I know this is only a fragment of what I want. I walk us through the room a moment later, laying her across the bed and sinking to my knees before her. I run my hand up the length of her leg, stopping only when I’ve hooked my thumb under the seam of her underwear. I hesitate a moment, locking eyes with her over the naked planes of her body. She nods, small but sure, and it’s the only confirmation I need before ripping the fabric away.
I hook my hands around her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the bed and eliciting the most delicious squeal fromher. I grin, soaking in the sound as I bury myself between her thighs. The squeal fades to a moan as she feels my tongue press against her core. I don’t give her a moment to adjust to the sensation before I’m devouring her. Just as she devoured me.
Her taste is intoxicating, even better than I’d imagined it could be. I need more of it, need to taste her blood along with it. But I won’t allow myself that pleasure. Not yet.
