Page 99 of Bloodgrove

The suction—the tingling—reached all the way into his belly. A whimper escaped Will, and his magic died beneath the venom. Helplessly, he braced his hands against the floor and forced his neck to relax, letting his head follow the pull on his hair until his throat lay exposed to the lupine vampire.

Bitter tears burned in his eyes. Elodie’s room blurred before him, and he saw the fire in the hearth flare to life.

What a wondrous person she was. Here, inside her refuge, she allowed the wonder of her magic to roam freely. A little wind chime of cut glass stars danced in an unfelt breeze where it hung from the canopy. Its delicate chiming sounded impossibly innocent beside the wet sounds of the monster drinking.

Perhaps it was right to die here, drained by the man whose lips he had wanted against his own since the moment they met. Surrounded by Elodie’s magic, which had awakened so much inside him. A strange peace settled over Will, and he realized the pain had eased.

The claw in his hair loosened and slid instead along his cheek. But the drinking did not stop. Claws still moved over his skin; only the monster’s posture changed. The beast sat back on its haunches and pulled Will with him, settling him into its lap. With every pull at Will’s throat, a satisfied growl vibrated through the monster. Its tongue licked over the wound, no longer digging into Will’s flesh but almost caressing him. The touch burned, though nowhere near as badly as it had at first.

A tiny spark of hope, stronger than any magic, took root inside him.

“Eric,” Will breathed.

Carefully, he placed his hand over the paw holding his torso.

“Will,” the monster growled against his throat.

Almost delirious, Will sobbed.

His blood had worked. The Albatross’s promise had worked again and lifted the madness from Eric’s mind. At least Will hoped so, because Eric had not stopped drinking from him. And seated like this in his lap, Will became acutely aware of the creature’s anatomy beneath him.

“Damnation, you taste divine,” Eric murmured and sucked again at the bite. “Your blood is like the nectar of stars.”

Every word vibrated through Will’s body. He felt Eric’s bare chest against his back and the depth of every breath.

“Are you back?”

Instead of answering, Eric bit him again.

The claw at his cheek moved to his throat, forcing him to lean farther back against Eric’s chest and opening himself. Will sat half entangled on his lap, and for the first time, although they should have been nearly the same height, he felt small.

He was at the mercy of shifting muscles and pointed claws that pressed into his skin as though it were nothing more than a thin veil over his blood.

But their breathing found the same rhythm. Will breathed in with Eric and out with him, feeling the air move across the droplets running down his chest. His heartbeat slowed. Whether it was the venom or simply the certainty of being held by the man he had longed for all these months, he could not say.

A sudden stab of pain startled him when Eric bit deeper, until his teeth scraped across Will’s collarbone. The movement forced him closer to his captor, and Eric growled.

“Will, stay still.”

But Will would not remain still while a monster—even if that monster was his friend—drained the life from his veins. Carefully, he freed one arm and the next second drove his elbow into the shoulder where the knife had struck.

Eric only gave a muffled grunt. A moment later, Will’s cheek slammed against the floor again.

“Fighting is pointless.”

Will’s thoughts raced. He no longer knew who he was speaking to. It sounded so much like Eric, even distorted by that strange maw and the fangs. But why did he still want to kill Will? Why would he not let him go?

Instead, Eric straddled his hips, and one great paw settled once more against the small of his back. A pleased growl vibrated through him, and Will caught a glimpse of the monster above him, watching its prey with satisfaction.

“What do you want from me?” Will tried to move his hands beneath himself again, but Eric pressed him mercilessly down.

“You. Will. You,” Eric growled. “Always. Since the moment I saw you on that damned train. Until then, my world—my promise—had been so simple.”

The promise to sacrifice himself for Elodie. To save her and this city. To become the Red Hand.

Will shivered, though fear of death and adrenaline still pulsed through his blood. How desperately he had wanted to hear those words. But not like this. Not pinned down and bleeding out.

“Then let me go.”