Page 32 of Blood Red Rage

Draugr leaned back. “Well.”

I was already standing, because the bond tugged. Because the mansion smelled like her and because the thought of her in our room, water on her skin, alone… My control frayed.

Draugr’s voice followed me as I reached the door. “Try not to demolish your bedroom.” I didn’t look back.

“Try not to breathe,” I threw over my shoulder.

Then I stalked down the corridor toward my room, every step heavy with need, possessiveness, and the kind of hunger only one woman could satisfy. My mate, waiting.

Chapter 7

Steam curled in lazy ribbons above the bath, fogging the tall mirror and turning the whole bathroom into something out of a fantasy movie. Everything in this mansion was too much, too expensive, too grand or too… Dragic.

The tub alone was a carved stone monster, deep enough to swallow me whole. The water was perfectly hot, scented with something woodsy and sharp, like cedar and spice. Candlelight flickered against marble walls, the shadows softening the edges of the room until it felt less like a prison and more like a secret.

I sank lower, letting the water lap at my collarbones. For the first time since last night, my thoughts weren’t screaming. My body was still humming though, still restless, remembering Viking’s touch.

The way his hands had felt on me. The way his mouth had ruined me for every kiss I’d ever had before. The way his presence had wrapped around my nervous system like a claim.

I closed my eyes and exhaled. I should’ve been furious… I was furious but I’d be lying if I said my anger didn’t come with… other things. Heat, and a dangerous kind of hunger. It was ridiculous. I’d been kidnapped by a vampire with tattoos and a temper, and instead of spiralling into hysterics, I was lying in his bath thinking about what he’d do to me if he walked in.

Like my brain had been hijacked, like my body had staged a coup. The bathroom door clicked, my eyes snapped open, my heartbeat spiked so hard it hurt.

The steam shifted and Viking stepped into the room like he owned the air itself. Barefoot and shirtless. Hair damp like he’d just showered. He wore nothing but grey sweatpants riding low on his hips, clinging to every line of muscle like the fabric knew it was losing a battle.

God help me, he looked… unreal. Not in a polished, male-model way but in a made-to-break-you way.

His tattoos were darker against the candlelight, creeping up his arms and across his chest in patterns that made him look carved instead of born. His shoulders were too broad for any man who belonged in modern society. His waist tapered like some cruel joke. And his eyes…

His eyes pinned me in the water like prey. Except I didn’t feel hunted, instead I felt wanted.

Viking’s mouth curved, slow and wicked. “Relaxing?”

My throat went dry. I forced myself to speak like a normal woman and not the kind of idiot who’d melt into bathwater for him. “What are you doing?” I asked sharply.

He took one step forward, then another. Like he hadn’t heard me.

“I asked you a question,” I snapped.