Page 68 of Blood Lovers

He doesn’t tell me, either. But he moves slowly. So I can mentally keep up, I think. He takes two steps towards me, closing the little distance between us I created when he ordered me to look at him, and then his arms are around me in a hug.

I fall into this hug. Like he is my father. Like his hug is love.

Then he whispers things in my ear. “You’re pretty. You will have a good life with me, I promise. You will live long, and see things that men cannot see. You will walk through dreams, and you will find another way forward. I promise.”

He likes that word ‘promise.’

“I promise, I promise, I promise.” He says it over and over as he kisses my neck and the shivers run up my spine.

Then I feel him open his mouth, the tips of his fangs pressing against the skin on my throat. The pressure, but no pain, as he carefully bites into me.

Immediately, I lose time. I might even fall over.

Not because he’s drinking me, but it just… feels… so good.

Bliss.

I don’t know how long this lasts, but slowly my dismal, blurry, hazy world turns into a lovely golden stream of light shining down on us and I feel energized, and hopeful, and happy.

I pull back, unsure for a moment why I am allowing this man to embrace me.

He’s so beautiful. And he’s looking at me like we’re lovers.

“What the fuck?” It’s weak, and so is my push.

But the man, Paul, puts a finger over my lips and immediately, I stop struggling.

“Be good now, Ryet. We’re almost there. Just one last step.”

I struggle a little, unsure of what I’m doing. But then he bites his lip and blood trickles out. Suddenly, the scent of him fills me up, taking the place of the people I was mourning.

Who were they again?

Who cares?

All I see is Paul. And all I want is his blood.

I suck it off his lips as we kiss, drops at a time when all I want is a flood. “More.” I say this word over and over again. “More, more, more…” I reach for him because I cannot stop myself. All I want is him.

Paul taps my nose, chuckling. “That’s enough for now, boy. But don’t worry. There’s more to come.”

Then he’s leading me through the alley. Down the dark streets of the town I no longer care about. Past shops, and houses—maybe even my own house—until we stop outside one just at the edge of town.

I want to pay attention to things. Details like… where the fuck I am. But I just don’t care. The only thing I care about is him. He’s still holding my hand when he stops at the foot of a bed.

He turns to me, those piercing, ice-blue eyes locked with mine, and he begins to loosen my tie.

I look down at myself, wondering why I’m wearing a suit. But I don’t care. So I just look back up at Paul as he pulls the tie through my shirt collar with a swish of silk. He drops it on the floor and rips my shirt open. Buttons fall off, skittering across the hard-wood floor. He places his hot hands flat on my chest and my heart pounds against his palms.

“You are so beautiful,” he says. “And you taste like youth. Sweet and whole.”

He doesn’t taste sweet and whole. He tastes like something else altogether. Something very, very evil. The opposite of what I was.

And I want more.

He just continues to stand there, looking at me, so I lean in, ready to bite his lip open myself.

When I do this, his fingers pop the button on my slacks. And I know this is not something I’m interested in. I know this.