Chapter 40 - Cammon
Cammon
XL
I chased after Glory as she tumbled over the rough terrain. Her head smashed against a rock on her way down, and I picked up my pace when I spotted a smear of blood across the stone.
She finally reached the bottom of the hill, and I skidded to a stop by her side and pulled her half into my lap.
“Glory, are you all right? What was that? What’s going on?”
She was dazed, barely conscious but hanging on. When she opened her mouth to try to speak—her voice raspy and hoarse, her words unintelligible—I noticed her fangs and the whiteness of her gums.
The woman was starving, and she must have been for the past few days.
A cold sweat broke out over the back of my neck as fear pumped through my veins.
I shifted her position in my lap, and when my fingers brushed her skin, she yelped at the contact.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to clasp her to my chest, but doing so would clearly be agony for her.
A thin stream of blood trickled over the side of her face where she’d knocked her head, and her gaze turned bleary, consciousness fading.
My heart galloped against my ribs as I set her down in the grass as gently as I could.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Buttons?” I didn’t expect her to answer, doubting she was aware enough of her surroundings to hear me. With shaking hands, I raked my fingers through my hair.
Beneath my fear for her was a slithering anger that she’d kept the problem from me for so long.
She’d endangered herself, me, the mission, our futures by keeping this secret.
I bit down on my lips to contain the lecture bubbling inside me and set to work pulling her pack off her shoulders, cringing with every moan.
Once it was free, I pawed through her bag until I found her red flask, but it was empty.
Hadn’t there been more?
I threw her pack onto the ground and stroked my fingers over her cheek, careful not to apply too much pressure but needing her to look at me. A whimper slipped through her lips, but her gaze sharpened.
“Where’s your backup supply?” I demanded.
A dry tongue flicked out over even drier lips. “Don’t know. Lost.”
Her eyes glazed over again, and again I shoved my hands through my hair, my heart racing faster. Fuck. This wasn’t good. She wouldn’t make it to the next two landmarks, let alone the ship, in the state she was in. How had it gotten so bad so quickly?
“The sun—it hurts.” She whimpered again and attempted to curl in on herself, but at the movement she let out another yelp of pain. “It wasn’t this bad before. I thought I could make it. To hunt. I was going to tell you. I thought I could make it.”
Fucking fuck.
My entire body trembled as the seriousness of the situation swept over me. She needed blood. Any blood. A lot of it. But from where we were on this hill, I couldn’t make out a single living creature. The drakes had either wiped out or scared off everything that could help her.
I kicked myself for not seeing it sooner. All her questions about where the animals were. So many days, and she’d borne her thirst without complaint. The fool.
But there had to be something. We weren’t so far from the edge of dragon territory, and then there might be a deer or a rabbit or a fucking squirrel she could feed on.
“I’m going to fly you out of here, all right?
” I pulled off my shirt, tucked it into my pack, then flexed my muscles to shift out my wings.
The black feathers swept upwards, creating a smidge of shade over us both.
But when I tucked my arms under her, Glory let out a scream so piercing I immediately jerked my hands back, terrified she would shatter in my grasp.
“What do I do, Glory? How can I help you?” I didn’t know what I was saying as the words spilled out of me, my pulse rushing so loudly in my ears I lost perspective on anything other than the dying woman before me.
“Flask. A bit of your blood. In the flask.”
My blood without the risk of securing the bond.
I grabbed the flask and used my sharpened teeth to slice through my arm.
Blood dribbled into the container. Slowly.
So slowly. As soon as I couldn’t see the bottom, I set the flask to Glory’s lips and she drained it, her moans of bliss morphing into a groan of frustration when it disappeared too quickly.
Her reaction to my blood created a longing so fierce I couldn’t breathe.
I’d seen her drink from her flask and watched her drink the mixed blood-wine with the fury, but I’d only ever seen that expression on her face when she’d drunk from me.
The realization that only I could do that for her was a heady one.
As was the realization that I didn’t want her to find anyone else who satisfied her the way I did.
I was the only one who should fill her. My cock.
My blood. Mine. My possessive demonic nature had laid claim to this woman, and as that truth landed, I sat back on my heels to process what it meant.
She’d made it clear these past few days that all she wanted was to return home.
I couldn’t rely on her reciprocation, but did that matter?
If I returned to Karhasan, I would be forced into an arranged marriage where the leanings of my heart would be irrelevant.
Glory would be my secret. My personal torment.
So be it.
My blood would be what saved her, but she would never get what she needed if I spilled it one drop at a time.
Vaguely I was aware that I was making excuses.
That despite everything I knew would come of it, I was moving towards the solution I craved: for her to sink those teeth into my neck.
The idea slithered inside my skull and choked every other thought with a sense of inevitability.
I hesitated to suggest it, knowing she would fight me.
Knowing I shouldn’t want it. Glory had told me what would happen with a second bite.
A permanent bond, our emotions tied together.
More commitment than I’d ever wanted. My head surged with panic, all too aware of what that bond would mean for me once I travelled beyond Golthwaine’s borders.
But my heart twisted the other way, fighting against any other option except saving her.
As far as it was concerned, if my options were giving myself to her or watching her expire, there were no fucking options.
“Drink from me.”
It wasn’t a request, not a kind plea. It was an order. I was a fucking prince of demons, and she would heed my command.
Her eyes flew wide, coming into exhausted focus, and although her fangs flashed, she recoiled. “I won’t.”
My breaths came quick and heavy, desperation washing over me in waves. Beneath my fear was a tinier prick of hurt. A sense of disappointment. Rejection.
“Are we really going to have this argument again?” I cupped my hand under the back of her neck and hefted her towards me, forcing myself to ignore her cries of pain.
Her agony would only get worse the longer we waited.
Although I limited my touch, I needed her closer, needed to feel her heart against mine even though hers beat too slowly, as though every thump were stealing what was left of her strength.
“This isn’t a conversation, Glory. You’ll do it.
” Or you’ll die. I didn’t say it, but she had to know. Her body was giving out as I watched.
“No.” Her gaze turned pleading. “The bond. You’ll crave my bite. I’ll crave your blood. It’ll be—it’ll be forever.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat, stung that she would rather push me away than save herself. “Would it be the worst thing, being bonded to me?”
Maybe I should have been afraid of the unfamiliar ache in my chest that reminded me far too much of hope and a desire for her to admit she wanted me.
Yet the fear never came, even as I understood just how monumental such a change would be.
Even after the temporary bond had faded, I’d thought about this possibility, was tempted by it.
Knowing how much I would crave her after a second round—knowing I would be moving beyond her reach in my return to my father’s side—knowing it would be torture.
But oh, it would be the most exquisite torture.
I would die slowly, but each passing day would be a suitable way for a demon to go, driven by lust and need and temptation. By what was mine.
Especially when the alternative was to watch her slip away from me. I was scrabbling at water, trying to clutch the droplets that streamed through my fingers with every fading beat of her heart.
I stared into her eyes, noted the flecks of crimson that swam through the familiar hazel.
The signs had been there all along, and I’d missed them because I had been too busy trying to distance myself.
I could be as angry with her as I wanted for hiding her waning strength, but if I’d paid attention, we could have solved the problem before we hit this point.
A crossroads.
A decision that would either bind us together for the rest of our long lives or kill her before the end of the day.
I watched the battle wage behind those blood-touched eyes.
I tasted the emotions running off her. Fear.
Guilt. Desperation. Desire. So many. Too many to interpret.
But buried beneath them was the faintest spice of longing.
Was it only for my blood, or for what the bond would offer? Could I allow myself to wish for it?
“You don’t have much time to delay, Buttons. The ship is coming in a week and we don’t have the amulet. You want your library, don’t you? Your days of peace and quiet? You won’t get any of that unless you feed.”
I also couldn’t finish this without her, and I tried to convince myself it mattered that I might not get the evidence to clear my name.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and I hated the bitterness of her regret when she squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.
A silent agreement. Not an enthusiastic acknowledgement of the contract being formed between us but enough for me to guide her to my neck. I flinched as she sank those beautiful fangs into my flesh.
The moan that left her throat was soon joined with mine.
The sensation was incredible. Even better than last time.
My cock grew hard, my skin grew warm, and I wished we had time to revel in the pleasure that swept over us.
Since we didn’t, I settled for holding her tightly against me, savouring the proximity, the press of our bodies.
An awareness surged between us that hadn’t been there before.
It was like I knew exactly how she wanted to be held, where she wanted to be touched.
Her every need was a murmur in the back of my mind, and I didn’t resent the knowledge.
If anything, I was grateful for it. Making her happy wasn’t a chore—it was a reward.
One I now had the capacity to fulfill more easily. All the complications aside.
I could have sat there for hours, allowed her to drink until my heart slowed, but she pulled away too soon.
When she did, I noted the flush in her cheeks, the brightness in her eyes—what was visible around the blown-out pupils.
It took everything in me to help her to her feet and leave her clothes intact.
Her legs were strong and steady, her emotions wild and overwhelmingly ecstatic—except for that dry, bitter guilt.
“Thank you,” she said, using the pad of her finger to wipe the drip of blood from the corner of her mouth, as though licking it would be too much. “I know what that cost you. I know what you’ve done.”
She started to look away, but I pressed my trembling fingers to her chin. Caught myself running my thumb over her bottom lip even as my tongue ran over mine.
“None of that.”
There was so much more I wanted to say, but nothing that felt right to share in the moment. Nothing she would believe. Likely nothing she would ever believe thanks to the pressure of the bond now humming between us.
But that didn’t make it any less true. I’d made my sacrifice willingly. Would have done so much more and so much worse to ensure her survival.
I swallowed every word. I retracted my wings, pulled on my shirt, and with my hand tight in hers, I guided her back up the hill.
While I might not have been able to speak, I also couldn’t let her go.
I needed her touch, the feel of her skin against mine, and I was grateful that she seemed to need it just as much.
As my thumb drifted over the back of her hand, tracing over every bump and plane of her veins and the softness of her skin, I couldn’t help but wonder about the consequences waiting for me—about how long it would take for this exquisite agony, this delectable connection, to destroy me.