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That look in his eyes has me worried he might go exact some cold revenge. To Zee, that might mean killing everyone from that small, cruel town. Not even I want that, even though there was a time I would have possibly took him up on it.
“It was a long time ago. I’ve always been a magnet for bad things.”
“Like me,” he sighs, blowing out a long, regretful breath.
“No. Nothing like you. You’re incredible.”
He rolls his eyes, muttering something about me needing better things, but I ignore him. After a long spell of silence, he asks, “What was wrong with your mother?”
“The doctors never pinned down a diagnosis. She suffered from delusions, and paranoia, and she often hurt herself, clawing at her own skin because she needed to feel pain to know she was alive. Mom always claimed she saw monsters. Glowing-eyes and…”
My head lulls back and guilt slams into me. Mom was the same as me.
He leans over and presses another kiss to my collarbone. “She was like you,” he murmurs against my skin. “Not all of your kind can handle the madness that can ensue. You would have been almost two when purgatory was opened. The anointed bloodlines were restored then.”
All that time… My mother could have been raising me, but she was locked away for what she saw. She couldn’t accept it…
“How old were you when she died?” he asks, keeping my mind from going into too many memories.
That used to make tears well up in my eyes, but I couldn’t cry. Even at the funeral, only one solitary tear fell, even though the dam felt like it was bursting inside me.
My mother was never insane. She was the only one who saw the truth. But how did she turn into what I am? When did she turn into it?
“Sixteen, but Mom was locked up most of my life. I lived with my aunt and stayed with her until I was eighteen.”
“And where is she now?” he muses, running his tongue down my cleavage, and making it impossible to think. “Hmm?” he prompts.
“Um… gone… Two years ago…”
“Gone where?”
“Why does it matter?” I ask hoarsely, closing my eyes and savoring the feel of him on top of me.
“Because eventually you’ll hand yourself over to me…. If you stay here… When you do, I won’t be able to refuse you. I want you too fucking bad, Leah. So I need to know who might come looking for you when that happens.”
My eyes snap open, and he spreads my legs, slowly undoing the button on my jeans.
“I don’t want to be a vampire,” I whisper.
My jeans start peeling down my legs, and his breath toys with the skin under my panties as he leans in close.
“I’m not a vampire,” he says, nipping me through the thin, lacy material, and I jump, startled.
“I don’t want to be a night stalker,” I correct, speaking around the lump in my throat.
“You will, Leah. You will. I’m almost tired of fighting it. The guilt isn’t enough to keep holding me back. I’ll change you, keep you, then one day you’ll be strong enough to break the bonds and kill me. It’s the cycle.”
I start to argue, but he strips my jeans off, revealing me to his eyes. The panties I’m wearing become shredded under his grip, and I bite back a moan when he buries his face between my legs.
His tongue… Oh fuck me… his tongue…
“Don’t tell me you’re mine,” he whispers in a rasp, strained tone. “Don’t say those words.”
Warning bells keep going off, but I don’t fight him as he continues to devour me.
My fingers tangle in his hair as he flicks that tongue in all the right ways, and sucks that bundle of nerves into his mouth.
