Chapter 13
Sadie | Highlands, present day
‘The fuel light has come on,’ says Damian, nodding to the dashboard as we reach the outskirts of Perth. ‘Everyone OK if I pull into the first petrol station we come to?’
‘Yes, of course,’ answers Floss for the rest of us.
The atmosphere in the car up until this point has been tense, to say the least. I’ve given up on trying to get Damian to drive faster, though I did compel him at one point to press down harder on the accelerator to at least get up to seventy miles an hour.
But he freaked out, and Floss yelled at me to stop it.
I’ve been sulking in silence ever since.
‘Are we even going the right way?’ Hester asks. ‘Should we do another hypnosis session to find out?’
‘Probably a good idea,’ says Damian, his hazel eyes flicking to mine in the rear-view mirror. ‘But we should wait until we’re in a more private location. Practising hypnosis on someone in a petrol station is bound to attract attention.’
I give a sharp nod. ‘Fine.’
The buzzing is still strong in my mind, which is something.
If only I could pick up on words or images from Elliott, then I wouldn’t have to undergo this stupid hypnosis.
Yet not being able to read his thoughts is why I never got bored with him—I could do what I liked with his body, which was always mine to control.
He’d work tirelessly for me and willingly submit to my bite, even hungered for it, but I could never break his mind.
He was an endless source of intrigue to me in that respect.
Then again, I shouldn’t be thinking of him in the past tense.
He is still very much alive. For the meantime.
The sky is the colour of gunmetal as Damian indicates and pulls into a Shell station. ‘I’m going to grab a snack after filling up,’ he says when we’re parked in one of the pump bays. ‘Anyone want anything?’
Three pairs of eyes stare intently at his neck, and he swallows. ‘Uh, right. Perhaps a blood bag to share from the boot?’ His gaze slides to Floss. ‘Or a little feed from me ...?’
‘We’re fine for now. Just sort yourself out,’ Floss replies, her jaw visibly tightening from the effort of holding back her fangs. I can sense her arousal too. The merest suggestion of biting him and her bloodlust is raring to go.
I smirk to myself and remark to Hester, If Damian isn’t a vampire by the end of this trip, I’ll be mightily surprised. His blood really gets her horny.
Hester: Well, when it’s true love.
Me (scoffing): True love? True lust more like! They hardly know each other.
Hester: Does time make a difference? You should know better than anyone about fated mates ...
Me: What are you saying?
Hester: That you and Elliott—
Me (sharply): That is purely a business arrangement. This conversation is over.
Aloud, I say, ‘I’m going for a short walk to clear my head.’
‘OK, but don’t go too far,’ says Floss, who’s been completely oblivious to my telepathic conversation with Hester.
Or I think she has. But if she’s started reading Damian’s mind, it’s a sign her mental powers are getting stronger.
I’m going to have to be more careful about talking about her behind her back.
Outside, the pungent smell of gasoline hits my nostrils; and along with my hunger, it makes me feel queasy.
I wander over towards the bushes lining the tarmac to get away from the stench and let the fresh cold breeze wash over me.
Having filled up, Damian is inside paying at the counter for the petrol and his snacks.
There’s a rustle behind me, and I twist around, peering into the bushes.
If it’s a squirrel, maybe I can get a quick fix without the others seeing.
My fangs ache at the thought of warm fresh blood.
But scrabbling around in the bushes in a skirt and high heels isn’t exactly ladylike.
And my tights will get snagged. (Yes, I’m dressed suitably for the occasion.
Just because it’s a road trip, I’m not going to wear hiking gear—quelle horreur!)
Then a cheery whistle floats to my ears, and I snap my head around to see something much better than a flea-infested squirrel in my line of sight. A bearded dude, tall and broad-chested, has emerged from the driver’s seat of a Graham’s milk truck and is striding towards the restrooms.
Oooh, what do we have here? I sniff and catch the scent of his blood. It smells rich and full of protein, like he’s been gorging on Greggs sausage rolls for breakfast.
A beagle on the hunt, I trail him across the cracked concrete, mouth watering. This is a bad idea on so many levels. But bloodlust is flooding my system, and it’s the higher calling that I always obey. Plus I need to keep my strength up. Damian can scoff his Pringles. This is my midmorning snack.
The guy is midstream in a urinal when I barge through the door. He glances round and drawls in a thick Scottish accent, ‘Lasses are next door.’ He carries on pissing, unconcerned.
When I don’t move or reply, he glances round again with a quirked eyebrow; his gaze takes in my crop top, short skirt, and high heels.
Finishing his business, he shakes his cock but doesn’t poke it back into his jeans.
Deliberately, he turns to face me with his dick hanging out, and my eyes drop to it.
It’s long and girthy with several prominent purple veins.
Nestled in black wiry hair, it’s semi-erect, which suggests that a pretty blonde looking at his dick is turning him on.
‘Sticking around coz you like what you see, gorgeous?’ he says, voice thickening.
Yup, that confirms it. Typical. He wants his dick sucked. But I’m more interested in a thorough suck from his neck, so he’s shit out of luck.
I run my tongue over my lips, staring intently at his member, causing it to harden further. Then I smile pleasantly and nod in agreement.
Grinning, he takes a step towards me, cock bobbing; and I shove him back against the flimsy wall with my mind before he can get any closer. His eyes widen in fear when he discovers he can’t move a muscle. I take my time sauntering over to him.
‘Your cock’s OK ...’ I say, grasping it in one hand and leaning in closer to sniff his neck.
I run my tongue along the line of his T-shirt, tasting the salt of his sweat.
Adrenaline is now coursing through his veins, and his thoughts are a mix of regret that he decided to show me his cock and wanting to strangle me with his bare fists.
Gosh, what a caveman; must be all that hairy testosterone between his legs.
I squeeze his dick hard in my fist, and a gurgle emits from his lips.
‘… But it’s definitely not the prettiest I’ve seen. ’
Elliott’s cock is gorgeous. Smiling dreamily at a recent memory of being fucked senseless by my thrall and wanting all this Alexander hideousness to go away, I bare my fangs.
Inching closer, I lean in and prick his smooth neck with the sharp tips.
Lower down his throat, there’s not as much hair.
But his beard is pretty bushy. Dark black like his pubes.
A few beads of blood form on his neck; and I lap at them blissfully, unable to help sinking my fangs in deeper, angling for his jugular.
The trucker moans in fear, but his cock is hard in my hand and oozing pre-cum.
Ooh, he likes that, does he? I might give him a handjob while I’m feeding—
‘Sadie!’ Damian’s shocked voice rings out behind me.
Damn, he would choose now to take a piss.
‘Fuck off!’ I snarl, my lips and tongue coated in blood. ‘I’m feeding.’
A large hand grips my shoulder like a vice, and Damian says in a stern tone, ‘Back away from the trucker, Sadie.’
I shake my head and adjust my grip on the trucker’s slippery cock, keeping a tight hold of my prey. ‘No, he’s mine. I found him first. You can’t have him.’
Hunger is warping my mind because I can’t satiate it.
So I’m bloodlust babbling to Damian, like he’s a vampire, like he’s going to take my quarry.
It’s a thing that happens sometimes if you’re not careful to keep up with regular feeds, though I can’t remember it happening to me like this for a while.
My Elliott keeps me beautifully satisfied.
Satisfied so I don’t create situations . .. like this.
Damian keeps talking to me in a low steady voice, some nonsense about letting the dude go (as if!).
But he does so warily, as if he knows I could just as easily turn around and launch at him.
Slowly, his words—skipping like white smooth common-sense stones across the fiery red pool of my mind—sink in fully; and I release my grip on the trucker’s cock so it flops between his legs.
‘That’s good. Very good, Sadie. Now take a step backwards.’
Me (whimpering, my eyes fixed on the trucker’s neck): But. His. Lovely. Blood.
Damian: There’s plenty of blood waiting for you in the car. You can even feed from me a little if you like.
I perk up at that. Floss will really get her knickers in a twist if I feed from her boyfriend. It will be fun to rile her.
Me: Pinky promise?
Damian: Pinky promise. Now let him go.
With a grunt, I release the trucker from his position against the wall, and he falls to his knees with a gasp and bursts into tears of relief.
Damian grabs my hand and quickly hauls me out of the bathroom. ‘You need to memory-wipe him asap!’
‘Of course!’ I scoff. ‘Though you should have zipped up his jeans. He’s going to wonder why he’s on his knees, sobbing with his dick out.’