Page 31 of Blood & Bedlam

My fangs sink into her vein, buttery soft and delicate, but the first gulp of her blood that fills my mouth sends me spiraling into fucking oblivion. My venom floods her system, the aphrodisiac sweet symphony that sends Reine rolling into an orgasm, her moans filling my ears, her essence coating my tongue. My grip on her hip loosens enough to slip my arm around the small of her back. I fuck into her like that, filling her in long, deep strokes that causes us both to shake. Every drag of her sweet cunt against my cock is a hit of desire, of nirvana I’d live and die and kill for.

Blood leaks from the corner of my lips with every thrust, but the connection, the feeling, the smell and taste of Reine rearranges the molecules of my body. Reconfigures the very fabric of my being. She tastes like magic, like sunlight on my tongue.

It’s never been like this.

“Vladimir, Vladimir,” she chants, drunk from the lust, from the fire between us. I sink my teeth in deeper. Her body shudders, climaxing again, spiking her blood with a potent and spicy hit of endorphins that fills my mouth, my soul. It occurs to me that I’m drinking too much, my hunger greedy, the rational part of my mind warning me off, but Reine doesn’t release her hold. She’s fucking me with the same fervor I’m fucking her, and the death grip she has on me is far stronger than what should be possible.

I slip my hand from around her neck, pleased with how obediently she maintains her position, and stroke over her sensitive clit. Groaning, I pull away just slightly, unable to resist seeing her. Reine falls back with her palms on my thighs, chin to her chest, watching my fingers and cock work her over, and it’s the most stunning vision these eyes have ever seen. There’s a river of blood staining over her breasts and nipples, dripping down onto my abdomen, wetting the fingers I’ve got working over her clit.

But her eyes are clear and bright and the sight takes my breath away.

My hips falter as the connection between us swells, the room around us swirling and fading in and out of sight. Memory and reason tickle at the back of my mind, but they’re overruled by sensation, by the Blood, by the ache in my chest for Reine. I relinquish control and watch her work herself over my cock. She’s so close to the edge, and I need her to explode for me one more time. My fingers are slick with her arousal and blood, hands slipping and sliding over her body in a tapestry of horror, but she looks incredible as she takes her pleasure.

The world behind her continues to unravel the harder she rides, the air shimmering oddly. I shift to pull our bodies back together, to get a better look over her shoulder, because even through the haze of lust we’re in, I sense something is off. Reine’s nipples scrape against my chest, her walls squeezing the afterlife out of me, but the thirst abates for just a moment of clarity as I squint at the room around us. My vision swims, and it’s disorienting but I swear the walls of my study appear faintly behind the arched window, like an echo, or a double exposure …

It’s that singular moment that tears it all down.

“Vladimir!” She whimpers against the column of my throat, just as I realize what has happened here.

I’m too late to stop it.

Sharp pain pierces my neck, followed by a flood of sexual release so potent it causes me to come on the spot. It’s an explosion of power, of release and need that has my eyes rolling back in my head. Reine has me locked against her, drinking from my vein, and I can’t stop twitching inside her, filling her perfect warmth with all of me. She keeps riding, keeps drinking, and I can’t fucking stop coming.

I’m boneless when she finally pulls back, and the full weight of this settles over me when I see her face. Those blue eyes are tinged darker, her incisors too sharp for a mortal. My cock twitches inside of her, still erupting, as the pain mixes with pleasure and our souls link together. The room around us rapidly fades, until those echoes replace the walls, the art, the dream.

Horror washes over me as I slam back into my body, sweaty and spent against the leather couch of my study. My chest heaves, cock wet from what I know is cum, but it’s the warm, sticky mess matting my shirt to my chest that has me springing up and rushing to the mirror.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I look fuller and more sated than I ever have, my eyes bright, skin fresh, but those aren’t the things I focus on.

It’s the trickles of blood from two puncture wounds on my neck.

It’s the first whispers of the Bond solidifying with the woman a floor away, and the rush of confusion and lust she’s unknowingly sending down it. Just when I think it can’t get any worse, I feel it. The sorrow, the loneliness, the helplessness. Reine’s emotions slam down our physical link, nearly drowning me in their depths. She calls out for me, and I’m moving before I can stop myself, the need to soothe her a demand I can’t ignore. I’m outside my chambers in a blink, my fingers hovering over the doorknob when I hear Juliette’s voice, whispering to Reine. Comforting her. My beast is enraged, urging me closer, and it’s hard to keep him suppressed. So much harder, with her taste in my mouth. The reminder is sobering. Fuck.

I don’t go in.

Instead, I slide down the door and listen to Reine’s breathing until she’s back asleep.

Reine

CHAPTER 15

“Your eyes haven’t moved in twenty minutes—are you all right?” Claire asks, startling me out of my disassociation. The book in my hands falls shut as I glance over to the place the orange tabby had been occupying on my bed, only to see the redheaded vampyr in her place. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t move closer to me or the sunlight-drenched chair next to the window.

“I’m fine,” I lie, and even I can hear how subdued my voice has become. The tilt of her head tells me she doesn’t believe me, but I don’t know what to do about that. Six days ago, my life changed forever—it wouldn’t take a damn genius to see that I’m, in fact, not handling it well.

In my defense, who would be? In the span of a week, I’ve lost my best friend, discovered a society of Otherworlders existing parallel to the real world, and it was confirmed by a witch that I’m the reincarnation of a woman who was murdered nearly eight hundred years ago, and that this man I’ve been drawing for my entire life is the man who loved and lost me. That my dreams are actually memories.

Well, at least some of them. Even thinking about the one I had after the visit with Hecate has my body tensing up, both from the intensity and the weird shit that’s happened since. I’d woken up, drenched in sweat, body shaking and thighs soaked from an incredibly vivid dream about Vlad and me and a throne—but it was the two puncture wounds on my neck that had me freaking the fuck out. Somehow, they’d carried into the waking world, and I’m not sure how to navigate that. Unlike the wounds the Italian left that faded with some care of the healer, these feel … permanent. Vlad bit me, in that dream, made me come so intensely I thought I might die of humiliation when I woke up in a tangle of sheets, calling out for him. Juliette rushed in, full of concern, but I couldn’t exactly tell her I’d dreamt of fucking her dad.

He’s haunted my sleep in some capacity every night since, but nothing as intense as that one.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Claire asks, stretching out on the shaded comforter, her hazel eyes fixed on me. Finding out that she was a shifter had been wild information, but over the past week I’d managed to adjust my perspective of “normal.” Knowing that she’d been assigned to watch over me in the daylight because she had more resistance in the sun in her shifted form took some getting used to as well, but we’ve settled into a sort of routine. Considering Vlad is doing his damnedest to avoid contact with me, her company is a comfort.

“Are you moonlighting as a therapist now? Being an unnecessary bodyguard isn’t as fulfilling as you thought it would be?” I snark, but the sarcasm that has been my defense mechanism my entire life falls flat between us.

“You did go out the window the first morning you were here,” Claire reasons, lifting a pale eyebrow.