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“Give me your hand,” he says again, and as he stares at me, I can feel myself falling deeper into his eyes, hypnotized. I put my hand in his and he pulls me to my feet.
He’s trying to compel me.
His eyes narrow.
And before I know what’s happening, I’m running over to the curtain, tugging down on it hard until it rolls up, and I drop to my knees and out of the way as the direct sunlight hits him dead on.
My own eyes pinch closed, the light hurting them, giving me a headache, and I stare up at Absolon, expecting him to start dissolving in a cloud of dust, or at least running away screaming.
But he’s still standing in the sunlight, though he’s wincing. He glances down at me, shaking his head.
“Was that your sad attempt at killing me?” he asks, scoffing. Suddenly he’s crouched down at my level, holding out three fingers. “Three ways to kill a vampire, Lenore. With a blade of the mordernes. With fire. Or with decapitation. Sunlight does nothing to us, except bother our very sensitive eyes. I suggest making friends with sunglasses.”
Then, quick as a lightning strike, he reaches out and grabs me by the throat, pulling me up as he gets to his feet, and tossing me on the bed. I nearly bounce off, my instincts to fight back at an all-time high. I quickly eye the antique lamp, but before I can make a move for it, he’s already in front of it. I didn’t even see him move.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he sneers at me. “I got that lamp from Queen Victoria.” He then goes for the rope. “You going to make this easy for me, or hard?”
I shake my head.
No.
I am not being tied up again.
“Seems your bloodlust is coming through,” he says, wrapping the rope around both his hands. “You’ll be hungry pretty soon. But I have things to do, a party to prepare for, and I can’t have you fucking things up. You had your chance today, you should have taken it.”
Then he’s at me, working fast, until I’m tied spread eagle again, this time on my stomach.
“Sweet dreams, Lenore,” he says. I can sense him moving over to the window, pulling the curtain back down. He turns off the lamp, blows out the candles, and leaves me in the dark.
Chapter Nine
Thirsty.
So fucking thirsty.
I’m dreaming about rivers of blood, about oceans, about all the things I cannot have. This thirst is deep inside me, turning my insides into a desert, a painful ache and longing for something I’m not sure how to get.
I am lost to my cravings.
Reduced to nothing more than a junkie looking for their next fix.
I hate what I’ve become.
No control.
No life.
No love.
If I wasn’t feeling so hollowed out from my thirst and hunger, I’d be in tears over all that I’ve lost. My parents, my friends, my school, a future that once seemed so boring and predictable but sunny and promising at the same time.
I can’t be what I am.
This…thing.
This creature.
But I am, because in the depths of me I feel an urge that will run me into the ground, an urge that will end up destroying me.
My truest nature.
And yet there’s another part of me too.
One that’s also deep and dark, sitting inside me as it always has.
The well.
And if I look inward, I can see it there, crescent moon gleaming on the water.
Inviting me to drink from that place.
A place of power and energy that was cut off from me my whole life, through runes and hexes and spells, or whatever the hell my parents did to me without me knowing.
It’s all accessible again.
There for the taking.
So take it.
“Lenore?”
I blink, lift my face from the sheets in time to see the lamp switch on (Queen Victoria’s lamp, I guess), then Wolf step into frame. “Am I disturbing you?” he asks.
I stare at him for a moment, my cheeks going red over the memories of him between my legs. Two days…maybe it’s good I don’t remember it all.
“You think I want another round?” I ask him, my voice thick with sleep. “Because I don’t.”
He smiles at me, an easy grin that reaches his golden eyes. “I would if you were game, but otherwise, no.” He looks flustered for a moment. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it…”
“It’s fine,” I say.
God, please don’t say another word about it.
He stares at me, questioningly.
“Are you reading my thoughts?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “I don’t have that ability.”
“Ability,” I muse. “So it’s not a vampire thing?”
“It’s a Solon thing,” he says. He gestures to my arms. “Would you like me to untie you?”
I nod.
“Solon isn’t your average vampire,” Wolf goes on, undoing my right wrist first. He smells like dill and mint.
“Great,” I mutter. “Just my luck to be kidnapped by an extraordinary vampire.” I pause. “What makes him so special?”
