Chapter 8
Karson
The pain shattered him to pieces. It was like blades of fire striking through him over and over again. Nothing made sense; there were only fragments of memories. Thin strands glinting like broken webs slithering against the crushing darkness.
A flare of light so bright it burned his eyes. Searing pain, a terrible agony he knew instinctively he’d felt before. Chanting and screaming echoing in the abyss of his head. Witches. Pain—gods the pain.
He wanted to fight. He gritted his teeth and tried to rise, but his muscles refused to work.
He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe.
The chanting screaming through his ears drove him to near madness.
A dagger slicing through his flesh. An image of her face, so beautiful his heart ripped in half.
The agony was unbearable. Then he heard screaming, but this time it was his.
He smelled her first, heard the steady thrum of her heart, felt her touch on his arm.
Pain struck his retinas as he blinked into the syrupy throes of daylight, trying to clear his vision.
Then as the ceiling loomed into focus, he turned his head, wincing against a flare of agony as if someone drove a brick through his skull.
She was lying on her side fast asleep, one hand under her cheek, the other resting on his arm.
He felt his heart swell—ache—with the need to draw her closer.
His gaze drifted over the creamy softness of her skin, taking in the four small, faint freckles on her cheek. Over the soft peak of her pink lips, down the slender curves of her throat, the mounds of her breasts.
He remembered the first time he’d seen her face; he’d frozen. There was something so captivating, so raw, so utterly broken, that instead of wanting to kill the witch, something had screamed at him to protect her.
It was madness. He knew it and he’d almost … He couldn’t bear to finish the thought. But when their eyes had connected, all the hatred, all the armor that had shielded his heart, was flayed in an instant.
He’d wanted to touch her skin to see if it was as soft as it looked. He’d wanted to make her laugh just to hear the sound. He’d wanted to taste her blood to see if it was as sweet as it smelled.
He had tried to tell himself he would just play with her for a while. His lips curled at the absurdity of the thought. He was strong, ruthless, the most lethal vampire on earth. He’d battled and won more times than he could count. But he’d been ill-equipped to resist her.
She was a witch.
She was the one thing he hated most in the world, and yet she was the very thing he couldn’t seem to do without. When she wasn’t near, the feeling was one of loss, as if he walked into a room and couldn’t remember what he was in there for.
He didn’t understand why—he was the king of vampires for God’s sake. It was ludicrous for him to even want to protect a human so fiercely, let alone a witch.
Perhaps it was as simple as he’d spent an eternity in darkness, and for the first time in a very long time, she made him want to live in the light.
But his past held so much darkness, a part of him he wanted to tell her about. But if he did, he knew she’d never understand, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. His hand rose to his chest, as if trying to quell the guilt and fear churning in his heart. He should tell her …
At that thought, his chest tightened even more, making it hard to breathe. How tragic, how brutal, it would be to lose the joy she brought over something he could not change.
He’d keep his past hidden; she would never have to know.
Some secrets were best kept buried.
He didn’t know how long he lay there staring at her.
Could have been hours, could have been minutes.
It wasn’t long enough; no amount of time would be long enough.
His body was weak, his muscles heavy and shaky, a state he wasn’t accustomed to.
He needed to drink to heal. A wise man would move and replenish himself.
But it had been such a long time since he’d been able to lie beside her, he didn’t want to move.
He wanted to soak this moment in as if it was the very first and very last one of their lives.
His eyes drifted to the steady pulse in her neck, to the sweet throb of her life force that would remove the gnawing ache from his bones in a few seconds.
He sucked in a breath and the scent of the coppery, honeyed sweetness of her blood teased his nose.
Thirst clawed at him and his veins felt like sandpaper.
He needed to drink, but he resisted the urge to place his lips on her skin.
To bite. Suck. Sink inside her, come alive as they become one, fill the insatiable hunger.
He swallowed past razor blades in his throat.
Amelia’s eyes fluttered open.
His breath left his lungs as the green emerald of her gaze sank into his.
“Karson,” she breathed. Her hand went immediately to his brow to check his temperature. A surge of sugary warmth rushed through him. He wasn’t used to having anyone check on his well-being. He didn’t realize he needed it until now.
“Hello, angel.” His voice came out raw and rasping, and his fingers shook as he clutched her delicate hand in his. Kissed it, held it near his mouth, his thumb resting on the beat of her pulse.
“Are you still in pain? How are you feeling?” She spoke quickly, worry creasing her brow.
“I feel like I’ve been stabbed with a bone-ash dagger. Nothing I can’t handle.”
She didn’t smile like he thought she would. Instead, her gaze bore into his as if she was trying to read his mind, sparking around the edge of his brain like a soft flutter of electricity. “Do you need blood?”
At the mere mention of the word, thirst roared, ripping through his veins like a flame. He knew she’d offer him hers. Or leave the room and collect it for him.
He forced a smile. “I’m alright. I just want to lie here for a moment.”
She chewed her bottom lip, guilt darkening her features. “Monique thinks a witch is working with Sarah?”
He stroked his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s entirely possible she crafted her failed plan all on her own.
But Sarah can be convincing when she needs to be.
” His voice hardened. If they were working with her, she probably threatened their families.
It might also be a willing retribution for the witch he’d murdered.
She moved her hand from under her cheek and cradled it against his. “You can’t go out alone anymore, it’s not safe.”
He’d been a gods-damned fool to fall for Amelia’s voice on a recording.
He should have been able to tell she wasn’t really there.
“They caught me off guard. A mistake I will not allow to happen again.” A shiver ran over her skin and her pulse picked up at the anger in his voice.
He softened his tone. “You have no need to worry.”
She sat up abruptly, pulling her hands from his. “I have every need to worry—you could have died!” she cried.
He sat up beside her, his muscles feeling like they were made of wet earth.
He rested his back against the bed head, his gaze following hers to where the dagger had sunk into his flesh.
The black storm that had invaded his body had faded to a pale bruise, and the ash had withered and died.
But he needed to drink to heal. He hated feeling so weak, so …
pathetically human. He smiled softly to comfort her. “I’m remarkably hard to kill.”
“But you are not impossible to kill.”
“You worry too much.” His brushed her hair off her face, dropping it down when she noticed it still shook. “I have faced far worse than Sarah and her foolish lowborns and survived.”
Her eyes glittered like dew on spring grass. She was getting angry; she was ridiculously cute when she was angry. “Your arrogance will get you killed.”
She kept talking, but her words were muddled in his head. It was hard to concentrate around the hunger sucking his body dry. He bit the inside of his mouth so hard it bled, and he swallowed it down. The damp was nice, but his own blood was barely a drip in a dry dam.
“Karson?”
“I know it is challenging for you.” He pulled her into his arms. “Soon this will all be over, I promise.” She softened against him, her hands cradling his back, her pulse throbbing in his ears.
He imagined the silk of her blood sliding down his parched throat, sinking to the pit of his empty stomach.
He felt his teeth tingle—his fangs elongate.
She pulled back, her breath warm on his face, and he inhaled her scent. The ache stirred in his stomach, into something hungry—no, not hungry, ravenous.
Her lips moved to his …
Bite her, and this agonizing thirst will be gone. Bite her and you’ll explode with power. Just a small taste won’t harm her.
He jerked back as their lips touched and leapt from the bed, pretending he didn’t notice the way her face filled with hurt.
He was furious with himself for not being stronger. “I have to …” He didn’t finish his sentence. Didn’t want to admit how close he had come to biting her. He was halfway down the hall when he heard her whisper, “Drink, and be anywhere but with me.”
His step faltered and he stumbled. He actually stumbled. The damned ash in his system. He felt an unbearable urge to turn around and go back to her, to cradle her body to his.
But he couldn’t laze in bed with Amelia wrapped in his arms, not while Sarah stalked the earth. He had to find her, remove the threat and get that book. Even if his heart ached. Ached.
He drew a deep breath and kept walking. He was the king of vampires, and he had a job to do. There was a possible battle looming, and he was far too busy to allow weakness to control him.