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“I told you,” he says patiently. “You’re in the first stage now. Lust. It sounds good, but without the proper…outlet, it could destroy you.”
“Then let me go,” I growl.
He leans in, his brows putting his eyes in shadows. “And then what will you do? Try and fuck me? Kill me? You’d wouldn’t succeed at either of those.”
I would never fuck you, I want to say.
I want to tell him I don’t find him attractive.
That I don’t want him.
But the truth is, whatever is happening to me has rattled my brain, turned me inside out until I’m just an animal in human skin.
“I’m the one in control here.” He flashes me a dark smile. “Be a good girl and maybe I’ll let you come.”
“You bastard,” I manage to say, gasping. “You’re sick.”
He pretends to be admonished. “I’m sick? You’re the one tied to the bed because you’d probably hurt yourself if I let you loose. I didn’t make you into a vampire, Lenore, so don’t put your blame on me.”
Vampire.
I’m a vampire.
I can’t be a vampire.
He gives me a patient look. “This is what happens to everyone who turns naturally, at any rate. It’s The Becoming. First is the lust, because lust of the body depends on blood of the body. Your blood is going wild right now. Arousal is all linked to blood flow. That’s the simple truth of it. You’re going to be driven mad with desire for the next while and there’s no getting around it. So mad, that if you don’t get off, if you don’t make the pressure, the pain, the agony, go away, for even a moment or two, you might never recover. I’ve seen…things you don’t want to see, when people were finally let loose when they shouldn’t have been. Not taking that chance with you.”
I cry out, groaning, wanting so badly to just touch myself, to come, to make it stop, so unbearable, so relentless. “Then you’re torturing me,” I say through a gasp, the ropes starting to slice into my skin. “If you won’t touch me.”
I hate myself for saying those words.
Hate that I want him to touch me.
But I would die for him to touch me.
“Please,” I whisper, staring up at him, ignoring the humiliation in my heart. “Touch me. Please.”
My back arches, my nipples practically breaking through the fabric of my bodysuit.
“I can be a cruel man,” he says to me, tone somber, eyes on my breasts for a moment. Then he puts his hand on my head, runs his fingers through my hair until that touch alone almost make me come. “But I am not that cruel.”
Then he gets off the bed, and with his presence ripped from me, I cry out, all of me bleeding for him.
He’s a monster. He kidnapped you, he’s made you drink his blood.
He’s a vampire.
He’s a vampire.
But all the logic, the things I’m repeating in my head, don’t stop what I’m feeling, like I’m so close to ripping through my skin and finding relief, if only I can be an animal for a bit.
My eyes are opening and closing, rolling back in my head, and so it takes me a moment to realize he didn’t leave the room.
He’s still here.
And not alone.
Wolf is standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at me, brow raised.
