Chapter Sixteen #2
I couldn’t overpower him. And gods forsake me, I didn’t want to.
“I don’t want to be a parasite, always taking from others,” I confessed.
“So don’t take from others. Take from me, little viper. Not an innocent, not a human. The worst of them all. The one who turned you. The one you curse in the night, who tore your humanity away and damned you with this existence.”
He made me like this.
The last of my control snapped.
I bit.
I buried my fangs in Raphael’s neck with ferocity that startled even me, but all that was chased away by bliss.
Like a perfectly cooled drink after days in the desert sun, his blood revived parts of me that I scarcely recognized.
I swallowed, greedy for all I could drink.
Raphael’s grip loosened on my arms, and I pulled them back, not to attack but to clutch him closer.
He raised a hand to my head, gently holding me in place while I sated the insatiable beast inside.
“So take it, Samara. It’s your due.”
I scarcely processed the words, drinking, drinking, drinking. Every swallow poured power in my veins. The fog that had surrounded me in the past weeks slowly ebbed away, but the heady feeling remained even as clarity returned.
Right. This feels so right. It wasn’t ancient anger speaking to me, but pure instinct.
Raphael’s body was hard and steady beneath me, cocooning me while I drank my fill. I pressed against him, aching for contact. Heat stirred inside me, not just the blood, but another type of pleasure.
I forced myself to pull away. I scarcely recognized my feelings, so clear of that hunger that had occluded everything. In their wake was something low in my stomach, a want for even more.
I licked my lips, tasting him again.
He watched the movement, rapt by the slight dart of my tongue.
“You may be angry with me,” he murmured. “But you’re alive. And I will always, always choose that.”
I lunged for him again.
But this time, I didn’t bite him.
I kissed the vampire king.
I kissed him with the same ferocity I fought him. Like I needed to draw blood. Like I needed him to hurt. Like I needed to feel him inside every part of me.
Twice, I’d kissed the vampire king. The first time he’d guided me, shown me how much he wanted me.
This time?
It was about my wants. My needs. My demands.
I kissed him like a feral beast, teeth clashing, tugging his lip with my fang.
And he answered every bit of brutality with his own.
He gripped me firmly, tugging me close. He tasted like war and death, and I wanted it all.
It was like the thirst, but an entirely different kind.
Like some desire I’d buried had come out and wouldn’t be shoved aside by common sense or the thought that I hated him.
It was as vicious as any battle, and Raphael welcomed my assault.
My breasts ached as I pressed them against his chest, every inch of my body sparking to life.
I gasped as he lifted me effortlessly and wrapped my legs around his waist. The stone wall dug into my back.
I hardly felt it. Instead, my senses were consumed by him: his taste on my tongue, his fingers curving around my hips, the low, dangerous sounds he made that went straight to my core.
I clenched around his hips, aching in an intimate, desperate way.
I nicked his tongue, the same way he once had mine, and the kiss reached a new intensity. I’d been wrong when I thought my thirst was quenched. There was no way I could ever be sated on Raphael.
You may be angry with me, but you’re alive. And I will always, always choose that. His words echoed in my mind. I was angry, so angry. And more alive in this moment than I’d been in an entire lifetime.
Because of him.
I shifted against him, running my hands over his body, feeling the hard planes I’d stared at when we sparred.
Raphael growled against my lips, approving, and I kept pressing my chest against him, rubbing my aching nipples through the fabric.
They’d never felt sensitive before. Now, in the haze of my mind, I imagined more than a kiss.
I imagined ripping my tunic off and baring myself for him. I imagined letting him bite… there.
That will never happen.
Quick as a snake, I ripped the sword from his scabbard.
Raphael jerked slightly, his reaction slowed by the same lust that made me fast. He blinked his eyes open, and I didn’t bother to study his expression before I twisted my legs that still held on to his hips and took us both to the ground in a maneuver Demos would have applauded even if he did despise me.
I slammed my knees down over his biceps, pinning them while I sat on his chest, his own blade pointed at his throat.
I wasn’t as careful as Raphael. I let the steel cut into his neck, just a dribble of blood that spilled out. I focused on basking in the victory and not the fact I wanted to lick it.
“Do not ever,” I snarled, “try to force your blood on me again.”
Raphael might have been pinned in a losing position, but he looked every inch the smug vampire king peering up at me. “Force? Is that what it’s called?”
I shifted the blade so it was perpendicular to his neck as I leaned in. “I mean it, Raphael. Don’t.”
He lifted his head. The blade cut deeper, but he paid no mind.
“I will never force you, little viper. But I won’t stop you from taking your due either.
Even if you’re not my Chosen. Even if you hate me with every swallow, if you need my blood, it’s yours.
My protection, my coin, my training, it’s all yours, whether you want to accept it or not. ”
The intensity of his eyes unnerved me. I leaned back, scrambling at his declaration, trying to reclaim the upper hand even while my thoughts were fogged with the near miss of pleasure.
It receded far too slowly for me to regain my footing.
“The training has worked, at least. I won.” In an admittedly underhanded way.
“You certainly did.”
And when Raphael spoke, there was something like pride in his eyes.