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Chapter 4
Fluke Or Fate
AUGUSTUS
Moonlight spills through the bedroom window, the only source of light piercing the darkness. Cordelya’s naked skin shimmers with an otherworldly glow, haloed in silver iridescents.
She looks like a moon goddess.
And I am but a humble servant here to worship at her feet.
“So beautiful,” I say reverently.
I take my time, looking my fill of her immaculate body, committing every curve, every delicate line to memory.
“Augustus,” Cordelya half-whimpers, half-moans.
A pleased growl vibrates through my chest. “Yes, my Moonlight?”
“Please.”
One word nearly undoes me.
One leg slides up to wrap around my hip as I kiss her with a ravenous hunger. Her hands slide up my back into my hair, nails scraping my scalp as she pulls me closer. When I release her mouth, I kiss along her jaw to the side of her neck. She angles her head, giving me free access to her throat.
“I need you,” she pants. “Please.”
My fangs descend in anticipation.
I scrape them along her neck, shivers racking her body beneath me. When she releases a breathy moan, I strike.
The richest, most luxurious blood floods my mouth, coating my tongue as I swallow greedily. Thick. Sweet. Mine.
“Augustus!” Cordelya screams.
I jolt awake, panting, covered in sweat, hard as steel, fangs fully extended, with the phantom taste of her lingering on my tongue.
Every night since I met her, I’ve dreamed of Cordelya. The setting changes. The words, few though they are, are slightly different from dream to dream. But the ending is always the same.
Me, sinking my fangs into her throat, drinking deeply as pleasure ripples through me.
I’ve treated gunshot wounds.
Plugged arteries that were erupting like Old Faithful with my hands.
All while hanging on by the grace of well-placed mentholated ointment under my nose to dull the scent. In all my time in the medical field, not once have I ever felt anything aside from nausea.
Until Cordelya Holland.
It’s been a week since I laid eyes on her, and yet images of her are all that fill my mind.
I scrub my hand down my face, trying to erase the images flashing before my eyes.
“What is it about this woman?” I mutter aloud.
With a groan, I push myself up and out of bed. After a quick shower, I head for the kitchen. I’ve been putting off my blood-infused smoothies. Ever since catching the scent of Cordelya’s blood, the thought of ingesting my daily dose of vital fluid has made my stomach turn even more than normal. I no sooner open the fridge to grab a bag than I shut it.
The deathly pallor has returned to my skin, and despite the several hours of sleep I’ve just awoken from, I feel exhausted. I need blood. Cordelya’s face flashes through my mind. I shake my head to dispel the image. Glancing at the clock, I grab my cell and dial Logan.
