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She moans, her lips brushing against my skin, sending electricity through my body and to my groin.
“Drink,” I demand, louder and unyielding, pressing my wrist against those soft lips. They part slightly, and I angle myself to ensure my blood would go into her mouth. Her heart is slower now, but she has to drink more if she is going to change successfully.
Growling in frustration, I pull my wrist away and tear deeper into my flesh with my fangs. Hitting an artery, I make sure I am bleeding quickly. I tilt her head back and let it pour down her perfect throat. Wren’s brows knit together as she coughs, sputters, and tries to kick away. A pang of guilt strikes my heart.
She is fighting because she doesn’t want this. Shoving it aside, there is no going back now. Either she will wake up and accept what happened, acceptme, or she will hate me forever. As long as she still walks this Earth, I will take her however she is. Weak and injured from the trauma, it is nothing to overpower her, and I press my wrist down on her mouth, willing her to hurry.
“Drink,” my voice pleading now.
Finally, the switch happens.
She grasps my arm tightly and begins to suckle in earnest. Hunger fills her as she takes my essence into her belly. She moans as she drinks like it is the sweetest nectar.
God help me.
The way she devours me, her soft lips pulling my very soul into her body and loving it, and a wave of relief pours into me. I know she will be okay now. “Good girl, Wren.” I let her take all she can, welcome her to have every drop as far as I am concerned.
Every successful turning had one thing in common. You know it will work when the human finally latches on like they want it. I press my body against hers, content to stay there until Wren takes all she needs of me until she fills every empty crevice of her body with me. Changing a vampire leaves us vulnerable, and weakened. With her injuries, she will drain me far more than the vampires I’ve turned before. I lean my forehead against her temple and whisper, “Stay with me.”
Wren.
My little bird.
Mine.
Her heart takes one last fluttering beat and then stops, lips releasing my wrist. I lay on the shore with her for a moment. Studying her, imagining what is to come. I pray to any being that could be listening that she will understand why it had to be this way.
That she won’t hate me forever.
Now that she is no longer drinking from me, I can take her home to complete the turning. Scooping her limp body in my arms and grasping the bag she had left behind, I rise to leave. Annoyance flashes through me as I remember her male, “Spencer,” on the shore behind me.
Hedid this to her.
Hekilled her.
Maybe not directly, but his irresponsible driving put her in this position, and then he left her to die. I could easily do the same and forget he exists.
My eyes dart to my little bird. I don’t think she would like that very much. I resolve to call for emergency assistance once I have her safe and secure at my home. If he dies before they get here, then that isn’t my concern.
I climb back up the mountainside, taking her directly to the home I share with my coven, my family.
Our home is technically a cabin, but it is a large and modernized one with eight bedrooms, a modest kitchen, a wide open living space, and even a private study. Most people assume it is a timeshare or vacation home, but I and several of my coven members have lived here for the last five years.
Most of them are out doing whatever they care to do, but Rolando, the first vampire I ever turned, is here doing whatever it is he does with our archives. He explained it to me once.
Something, something, digitize.
He raises a brow when he sees I have a woman in my arms but says nothing as I carry her upstairs. “Send an ambulance to Goose Lake. There’s been an accident.” That is all I tell him. Without wasting a second, I hear him on the phone with dispatchers. We have a full house with as many coven members as there are staying here. My room will have to do for my little bird.
Laying Wren down on my bed, I inspect her injuries. They are already mending as the turn from human to vampire takes place. Her nose appears to be no longer broken. The cuts and scrapes are healing before my eyes. I inspect her arm, setting it to ease the healing process. If mended incorrectly, we’d have to re-break it to set it right. Satisfied that the change is normal, I search my drawers for something that might fit her.
I am not going to leave my mate in those wet clothes. Glass clings to her sweater, blood stains on it and her pants.
Settling on drawstring sweatpants and a t-shirt, I quickly change Wren out of her grimy clothes and into something dry. I don’t pay attention to her body while I take care of her. There will be time for that later when she is awake and inviting me to look.
Until then, I will be a perfect gentleman.
It may have been some seven hundred years since I was a knight, but that did not change the fact that I pride myself on displays of chivalry.
