Chapter 10
Ten
Ivy
The minute we get outside, the cool air rushes against my skin; calming my heat.
Wesley guides us, my heart still racing, his arm still wrapped tightly around me and I try to catch my breath as he moves us quickly, hurriedly, as if there is truly a fire.
I turn behind me, but there is no one. No one is following us, though I keep expecting the door to open, it never does.
“What…what was that in there?” I ask, trying to make sense of everything. I feel like I’m being strung on a wire and I’m about to break.
“You’ve never gone into heat in a room full of hungry vampires, I take it,” he says, shaking his heat.
“No, I usually go through my bloodheat alone, I—”
And then it dawns on me. Chloe’s words.
I can smell you from here, Wes. You ain’t hiding shit.
His bitterness as he touted that he couldn’t help it. His bitterness now.
I stop abruptly, the motion nearly knocking us both over. And then his scent hits me like a brick. Hard, in the chest.
“Ivy—” His voice shakes minimally, but I can hear the lust in it.
“Chloe… she said—”
“Don’t listen to Chloe,” he says as he takes a step closer. I note his sapphire gaze is dark. His pupils nearly blown.
“Come on, we need to get you back—”
I look ahead, noting the forest. Chloe and I came through the path here, from the campus. I know we have to go back, but I feel strange and think I need to sit or lie down, or…
My knees buckle but Welsey catches me just in time before I fall.
I grimace as my fangs ache. My stomach twists and my insides are starting to cramp. Chloe was right: I am hungry. I’m starving.
“I can’t, I—”
My body feels light and creaky, weak. My throat is dry and tight. I look up at Wesley.
“We were supposed to eat,” I say, trying to make him understand.
“Guessing you guys weren’t going for a tuna salad sandwich?” he asks, his voice faint yet heavy.
I grip his forearms, my fingernails digging into his flesh so hard, I think I feel blood.
Blood…
“Ivy…” he breathes my name as I look down, and sure enough, I see it. Tiny prickles of crimson against his flesh, pooling beneath my fingernails.
Time stops. Everything just stops. All there is, is the steady beat of my heart, the pulse of his blood beneath my fingertips. My aching fangs and the voice in my head telling me to feed.
I blink, my vision hazy as he settles his hands on my hips and pulls me gently.
“Come on,” he whispers. “Just a little further.” But I can’t let go, I can’t move my feet. My legs are numb.
I don’t want to hurt him.
Somewhere in my mind, I know that what’s happening is dangerous and if I’m not careful, if I give in, I will hurt him.
I’ll sink my fangs into him, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. Because his scent, mixed with the sharp, metallic tang of blood is more tempting than anything I’ve smelled in my life and that energy—the one that exists between us like a ghost—it’s heavy in my chest. Like a stone over my heart.
And I think… I think if I just have a taste, I’ll be free.
He grabs my hand, plucking it from his arm. My hand shakes and he slides his fingers between mine and squeezes.
“Ivy, look at me.” His voice is careful, low. Deep.
It makes my blood rush and my fangs ache.
I look at him without a second thought, meeting his dilated pupils and I see he is bearing his fangs at me. His grip on my hand is harsh. He squeezes my hand like I’m made of concrete and he’s trying to break me.
Something in my head tells me he’s struggling, too. Because he has a bloodheat. Like me.
Chloe insinuated as much, and though I thought she was crazy, I know as I look at Wesley right now, my gaze traveling from his blown pupils to his shaking arms to his…
The evident outline of his cock in his pants draws my attention like a magnet. My insides twist and my pussy clenches as saliva coats my fangs. He lets out a feral hiss.
He moves us back, stumbling on his feet, his hand gripping mine tight.
“Look at me,” he begs, and I meet his gaze once more. And then I see it. Behind the lust, there’s fear.
Wesley Castor is afraid of me.
And he should be.
I gasp as I tense, nearly stumbling and falling over because that look is enough to break my stupor. He loosens his grip and tugs me once more and I follow, my legs working of their own accord, separate from my brain.
My brain is a mess of chaos, blood, and harsh truths.
This…
This is why my father kept me locked up in my bloodheat. Because I’m a monster.
My memory falls back to that human I kissed. His blood on my tongue, his soft moans and pleas.
I wanted to devour him. I wanted to feel his skin beneath mine, wanted to feel his pulse inside me. But I never got the chance to devour him like I planned because my father stopped me. He pulled me off that human and told Ptaris to lock me in my room until my bloodheat had disappeared.
And now I understand why he did it. I’d garnered it was just him being overprotective, trying to maintain my purity, so I would be a good offering, but…
Perhaps it was for my own safety as well. Perhaps I am more dangerous than I thought I was. Because I’m fairly certain, most vampiresses don’t throw a roomfull of vampires into bloodlust.
Not like I just did.
Tears prickle my eyes as the truth hits me. I let Wesley lead me, his hand softening in mine. My stomach hurts because I am hungry, but I don’t think I can eat. I don’t want to. I’m afraid of what may happen if I do, right now. I don’t trust myself. I don’t know who I am right now.
“Hey.” Wesley’s smooth voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I realize we are back inside the vampire’s dormitory.
The light from the chandelier refracts off the floor, dancing like pixies across the room.
I look up at him with tearful eyes, noting his have gone back to normal. He swallows harshly as he takes two steps towards me, his hand still in mine. He reaches out with his free hand and tucks some hair behind my ear.
“It’s okay, Ivy. You’re okay.” He says the words like he’s trying to convince himself, rather than me.
“I’m so sorry, Wesley, I—”
He shakes his head. His hand cradles the spot on my neck below my ear, his touch warm and comforting. I keep my gaze trained on him, seeking the comfort his gaze brings me, even though I know I shouldn’t want it at this moment.
“No, I’m sorry. I… all I wanted was to apologize and then you went into heat and I—” He licks his lips, grimacing and I take a step closer to him. Our chests press together and he takes a step back, his back hitting the banister of the left stairwell, the one that leads to my room.
He lets out a heavy breath, but he doesn’t let go.
“I lied,” he whispers, his mouth dangerously close to mine.
“About what?” I ask, my gaze drifting to his pouty lips. They look soft. Pillowy.
I want to bite them, want to see his blood pool against the pale pink of his flesh.
“You do frighten me,” he says, but the admission is dark and warm. Curious.
I close my eyes, feeling the brunt of his words. Of course, I do. I am frightening myself, I—
“Because I’ve never felt like this before,” he breathes, leaning closer to me. I open my eyes, noting his lips are barely inches from mine, as are his fangs.
“For a vampiress,” he says, as if the word itself is some sort of curse.
I nod, leaning forward a hair of an inch. Just enough to feel the edge of his lips.
“I’ve never felt this way for a vampire.” My voice is darker than it should be. “So I suppose we can blame it on the heat,” I say carefully.
His hand in my hair tightens as does the hand holding mine.
“Right. It’s just the bloodheat,” he says.
And then all at once, the fire catches between us; like someone’s poured gasoline on that invisible entity.
Wesley’s mouth caresses mine, slowly. Carefully, as if he is afraid I will break.
Or perhaps it is him he fears will shatter.
I slide my free hand up his chest, grabbing his neck with equal fervor and the rush of heat overtakes me.
I have only ever kissed one man, and that kiss had been one-sided. Pleas of mercy didn’t exactly make the experience as satisfying as I'd hoped.
But kissing Wesley…
Kissing Wesley Castor is what I dreamed kissing a man would feel like.
He does not rush as I expect him to. His kiss remains slow, torturous and deep.
He tightens his grip on me, and I press myself against him, feeling his evident hardness pressed against me, igniting the flames of my bloodheat with renewed vigor.
I can’t help the groan that escapes me, nor can I help the way I grind my body against him, aching to feel more of his solidness against me.
He parts his lips and I don’t think twice about slipping my tongue into his mouth, seeking his sharp fangs.
He groans, his tongue caressing mine, and I lose myself in the bliss of his perfect kiss. Blood prickles the edge of my tongue as I caress the edge of his sharp fang.
“What the fuck?” A voice breaks the moment, and Wesley shoves me away. I blink, trying to process the world around me as it comes back into view, and then I smell him.
Woods and moss. Adrien.
I turn to see him, with tears in his eyes, shirtless, his hands balled into fists.
He’s glaring at Wesley like his stare alone could kill the man.
Or wishing it might.
“Adrien—” Wesley’s voice shakes, and it is more fearful than I’ve heard it yet.
Adrien glares at me, through his tear-stained gaze. Perhaps he wants to murder me, too, and something about that calls to my heart. I take a step forward.
“I can explain. I—” I say, but Adrien holds his hands up.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he says. “You don’t mean anything to me, I don’t give a shit what you want to say.” He snarls at me.
“Adrien…” Wesley advances towards him, and Adrien steps backward. He keeps moving, putting distance between us, and Wesley follows him like a pet on a leash.
“I can’t do this right now, Wes,” he says, and I hear the choked pain in his voice.
Adrien tightens his lip. “I need space right now.”
And with that, he turns, giving us both his back and flees into the darkness.
Tears culminate in my own eyes as I watch Wesley run after him, calling out his name as if doing so will bring him back, even though I know it won’t. Call it a hunch. Wesley stops at the threshold of the door. My heart breaks, and I don’t know why.
Despite my obvious attraction to Adrien—who seemed to tolerate me, at best—he hadn’t really given me any indication other than staring at my mouth, that he felt any similar attraction.
I know it’s not logical to form an attachment so soon, and even attraction itself can be a slow burn and not always a wildfire.
Perhaps something was there, something that may still be there, but without time and proper nourishment, it simply won’t grow.
I’m not saying I think Adrien is my mate, but… maybe he could be?
If I had only been patient and not thrown myself at Wesley in the midst of my heat.
My gaze settles on the statue of Welsey; unmoving as he is, staring out into the darkness.
Is that why Adrien looked as if he was about to cry? Because I was kissing Wesley instead of him, as he wanted?
Or was it something else? Were they friends, and he confided in Wesley? About this desire? A startling thought permeates through me as I realize it was not me Adrien was looking at. Yes, he glared at me, but…
He’d told Wesley he needed space.
Perhaps… they were more than friends?
I realize I don’t know much about either of these men—who they are, what they desire. I barely know anything about myself, it seems. And that is when the hurricane hits me and the first sob tears from my body.
Wesley turns to look at me, his eyes full of tears, and it is all I can do to give him my back and run to my room, where I am safe.
Where the sight of Wesley’s heartbroken expression will likely haunt me forever.