Page 49 of Before We Burn

One nip is hard enough that a small trickle of blood begins to flow, and I feel him pull more and more from it. My orgasm is right there, but I’m not ready yet. The more blood he’s able to suck from my breast, the rougher he becomes, and I like it. I want it. I’m not a fragile doll that will break if you play with it too hard.

I’m a warrior—an assassin—and I desperately want to be treated as one.

“Harder, Everett,” I breathe. “More. Please.”

He flips us over on my command, putting me on my stomach as he enters me from behind. I moan at the sudden and hard intrusion as he pounds into me, the sound of our flesh slapping against each other echoing in the room. The pleasure of him fills me so completely, and I push up from the bed, bringing my head closer in a silent ask for him to pull it. Without having to tell him, he grabs my hair at the root and pulls my head back. I moan at the assertiveness, my body now languid and dependent on his strength to keep me up.

“Come for me, Marz. I want to feel this pussy squeeze me so tight you get every last drop of me.” He reaches around and finds my clit again, rubbing it viciously.

The overwhelming sensation of my orgasm hits suddenly, my legs going taut as my breath hitches. He lets go of my hair and moves his hands to my ass where his thumb massages gentle circles against my back entrance.

That ends me. I scream out as stars cloud my vision, causing his orgasm to hit at the same time. He pushes hard into me a final time, his body twitching as we both collapse onto the bed.

We lie there in silence for a moment, both looking at each other, sweat covering our bodies and exhaustion making his features seem less haunted. I hear the question in his mind before he says it, but I don’t say anything. I want him to ask.

“Stay with me?”

“Are you sure?” I ask, worry boiling in my gut. “I told you, I’m a monster.”

Everett takes one of my curls between his fingers, twirling it as he shrugs. “Monsters need to stick together.”

With that, we slowly settle in the bed, slipping under the sheets together and Everett pulls me close. Our bodies fit perfectly against each other, and contentment settles in my body.

He falls asleep instantly, but I can’t seem to find the rest I so desperately need. I watch him sleep, eyeing the steady rise and fall of his chest, while I make sure his dreams never go to a dark place. I shake my head and whisper to myself:

“Why does the lion want to fall in love with the lamb?” Or whatever that sparkly fuck said.

19

UNLIKELY FRIENDS

BUNNY

There are so many bad things in this world. So many people who wish to see others hurt because they don’t live the same way. I try my hardest to not let it affect me—I’m not the same person I used to be—but since being around Marz, I don’t want to ignore it anymore.

Marz is the type of person you can learn a lot from just watching. She is patient and kind, even though she refuses to admit it. She is calm and coordinated despite feeling like she’s none of those things. I know if I tell her the age I was when I turned, she would instantly take on a motherly role, but I can’t allow her to do that. Not when there is so much to worry about.

That’s why I sit and watch her most of the time, seeing if I can give her bits of information that may or may not help her. It’s pointless, though. Each time I think I have an opening, the spirits stop me, showing me a catastrophic end. Marz is death and destruction wrapped into a being, but she is also hope and light.

This war could end horribly if Marz ends up on the wrong side. She is the deciding factor, and it is my job to make sure she never joins them.

So I sit in the shadows, watching her in the kitchen as she fixes herself a glass of blood. She thinks no one is watching. She doesn’t want anyone to know she enjoys cinnamon in her meals—something vampires have been doing for centuries in hopes of finding something new. I’m not a fan of it, but that could be because human blood is repulsive to me.

I need to drink blood—I’m not dense—but their diets…the lack of water. It’s nauseating to think about, especially because I remember my human life and what we ate. Our rations were moldy one month, yet we still ate them and felt sick for days. I couldn’t imagine feeding on the body of a person desperate enough to eat molded food.

Being a vampire is odd, but it’s even more so to be a vampire possessed by the spirits of witches. I wish things could be different, but I know it’s impossible. I’m going to be this way until the day I perish.

Marz is just about to take a sip of the blood Constantine brought back for her when I stroll out of the dark and pop up next to her. She doesn’t notice me at first—no one ever notices me anymore. I’m too quiet, too light. Vampires like me are dangerous for that reason.

“You like cinnamon in your blood?” I say it softly, trying to avoid scaring her, but it doesn’t work.

Marz jumps, spilling some of the blood as it splashes from the cup and onto her. It doesn’t matter because the shirt is black—as her clothes always are—but her pure shock makes me laugh. She isn’t used to being snuck up on, and her eyes go wide, her hand on her chest. She looks like someone who was caught drinking milk out of the jug.

Marzana has only been scared a handful of times in her life, and I’m glad we will have a memory like that together. She will always remember me.

“Shit, Bunny. You scared me.”

I nod. “Obviously. I’m sorry. I’m still getting acquainted with this body, and I don’t realize I’m moving so quietly. It feels loud in my ears.”