Page 109
Chapter 28
They were about to change everything. Irrevocably.
Looking into his eyes, struggling to catch her breath, Charlotte felt a single moment of panic. Opening her heart to this man had been one of the easiest things she’d ever done in her life, and yes, she wanted to be with him.
Forever.
But she also wanted what he’d agreed to give her—she wanted the ability to be in control. Two things that were not, she believed, mutually exclusive.
“Yes.”
That sounded too unsure.
“Yes,” she said again. “Yes.”
“I love you, Charlotte,” he said. She tried to answer, but she couldn’t—his teeth were in her neck. Charlotte didn’t remember the other time he’d fed from her, but this felt deliciously sensual. He was still inside her, and it felt as if he’d merely deepened their connection, something she wouldn’t have thought possible. Wanting to enjoy the sensation, this feeling of togetherness with the man she loved, she pushed away thoughts of what could go wrong. Of the future.
She just let herself be.
He pulled out of her, she could feel that. But he continued to feed, and so Charlotte closed her eyes for just a moment.
The scene was a familiar one, achingly so, and she immediately recognized it as the setting for a recurrent childhood nightmare. While many little girls dreamed of fairy-tale castles, the castle that had always haunted Charlotte’s dreams was not pretty. Dark and crumbling and covered in dead vines, it looked like something out of an Edgar Allan Poe poem.
The dream was simple and disturbing—she crossed into the castle from under an arched walkway and entered a room that was empty save for one threadbare tapestry on the wall. At that point a mysterious presence—unseen but no less horrible for it—pushed her back out into the night.
Her eyes fluttered open, her chest heavy from the recurrence of the nightmare.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to orient herself, which was when she felt the large, warm hand cradling her head.
Torr’s hand.
She was on his lap in the backseat of a car. What an odd place for a nap—
“Oh my God!”
She sat bolt upright. Torr’s face was etched with worry, immediately confirming what she’d just realized.
“Did you—”
He embraced her then, so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe. It was when she felt the wetness on her cheek that she realized he was crying.
Torr. Was. Crying.
Hard to reconcile, but true nonetheless.
“Oh God, Charlotte . . .”
“What? How long? Torr—” She pulled back. “Am I?”
But she already knew the answer.
Her mouth felt as if she’d drunk a gallon of wine.
“Drink this.”
She took the bag from him and drank deeply. The blood tasted much different than if she’d pricked her finger and licked it. It wasn’t good, or bad. Kind of like water. Just . . . there. But thicker. As she drank, she felt similar to how she did when she gorged after missing a meal.
“Better?”
