Chapter 19
Nineteen
Nightside
Power coursed through Mina’s body.
As if from a distance, she heard the sorcerer’s words, commanding her to breathe and . . . drink?
Yes! Immortal blood dripped onto her tongue. It raced through her veins, heating her from the inside out. She managed to open her eyes; the sorcerer filled her vision.
Gaze glowing, he held his gashed wrist above her mouth.
More drops landed on her tongue. The taste quickened her plague madness, sharpening her fangs and dulling her resistance. She tensed to seize him?—
Pressure rushed up from her lungs. She twisted onto her side and spat water mixed with blood.
He rubbed her back. “That’s it.” His voice was rough. “Easy, vampire. Easy.”
Struggling for control, she sucked in breaths. “Wh-what . . . happened?”
“You died. It didn’t take.”
Get hold of yourself, Mina! Had she truly just perished? And nearly bitten him? His blood had been as full of life and magic as she’d suspected.
“How did we get free?” Submerged in that churning water, she had been certain the end had come for them both. Yet here they were.
“We found the end of the lava tube.”
She sat up, swiping her hair out of her face. “And the basilisk?” Her gaze darted.
“Didn’t.” The sorcerer knelt beside her. “You need to drink more.”
More of his nectar. She’d never tasted anything like it—liquid bliss.
When he held his wrist to her again, bloodlust welled like a leviathan inside her. “No!” She was a heartbeat away from biting him. The memory harvest from a male like this would be her doom. “No more.”
“Why not?” He frowned from her to his wrist and back. “Did you not like my taste?”
“You can’t be serious. You’re concerned about that now?” She made it to her feet.
He did as well, staring down at her. “Then why don’t you want more?”
“You give your blood away readily for one spending so much of it.” Crimson seeped from his side as well.
He flicked a glance at that injury. Shrugged. “I’m already regenerating.” Yet his magic-filled blood seemed to be everywhere. All over him. Their clothes. The ground.
To remove herself from temptation, she crossed to a puddle of still water. Kneeling beside it, she regarded her reflection in the smooth surface. Her irises were dark purple, the color of a bruise. Blue mixed with red. Soon they would match Lothaire’s eyes. I almost bit the sorcerer.
So?
No!
From behind her, Silt said, “Was that a resuscitation or a resurrection? Are you even fully immortal?”
She patted her face, disbelieving her appearance. “I am immortal.”
“You’re not healing from those claw marks on your arm.” Her sleeve had ripped, revealing her injury. “How do you know you’ve passed the threshold?”
When Loreans froze into their immortality, their senses grew even more amplified, intensifying their desires to a boiling point. “Because crossing that threshold is a very . . . distinct time.” Understatement.
“Even after all these years, I recall that torment,” he said in a husky tone. “Flesh aflame. Always aching, never satisfied.”
As his deep voice washed over her, she recalled her fraught time of change—night after night of suffering in her bed, feeling alone and empty.
Having recently died, it seemed her body had bounced back and wanted to live —in all ways. And his luscious blood inside her was an accelerant fueling a wildfire.
“Did you not have a lover to see you through it?” he asked.
No, though I’d yearned for one! “That’s none of your business.” She rose to face him.
Appearing pleased, he said, “So you didn’t. No lover, no mate.” He struck her as keyed up over her revival, almost jubilant.
Ignoring him, she took in her surroundings, as harsh as everywhere else in this place. Not a single plant grew, and she spied zero signs of civilization. They had no food or weapons and no real reason to hope.
He’d asked her if she ever got daunted. She hadn’t before, but dying had daunted her. She now knew what her future held once the plague forced her to greet dawn. And that was if Nightside’s creatures didn’t get her first.
She frowned up at the sky. Great plan to greet dawn, Mina, in a dimension with no sun.
“How would a female vampire find her mate anyway?” he asked. “When a male vampire becomes immortal, his heart goes dormant, beating again when he finds his fated one. Your heart isn’t dormant. Well, mostly not. Except for when you drown.”
She almost flinched at the reminder. “A female vampire doesn’t have those physiological changes.”
“But you still mate for eternity. So how do you know who’s yours?”
“We just do. Instinctively.” Mina didn’t have time for this distraction—her life remained on the line. “Why are you asking about this?”
“Because I just made your heart beat, princess.” With a smirk, he added, “Seems you’ll be following me all around Nightside now.”
She cast him a cutting look.
“I’d say ‘You’re welcome’ for saving you yet again, but you haven’t thanked me.”
What—if anything—did she owe this male? A few hours ago, he’d proudly told her, Yes, of course I will murder Mirceo . Silt’s saving her life wouldn’t make her spare his own, but she would no longer relish killing him. “Why save a dying vampire?”
“What can I say? I’m a hero.” He checked his pockets, cursing to find them empty of sand. Washed away. “In any case, you don’t believe you’re dying. You plan on using Dorada’s wishgiver.”
Lothaire had used the ring but cautioned against its power. Kristoff had refused to bargain for it, even to find Furie. Would Mirceo use it? Despite this sorcerer’s warning, would Mina?
Logic said no. Love said no. How could she jeopardize her family and kingdom? But without the ring—or the sun—she would become a danger to others. Maybe she needed to be back in that water tube, trapped with a fellow monster.
Yet because of this sorcerer’s strength, she was free. “You don’t strike me as the type to risk yourself for another, but I know how you protected me. Even after I drowned, I somehow sensed your every struggle. You kept your head and got me to safety.”
Was he developing feelings for her? Heightened circumstances heightened emotions. She would know. Fresh from these perils, the sorcerer looked like the hero that he’d deemed himself.
Determined jaw. Penetrating gaze. Bravely earned injuries.
Silt hiked his broad shoulders. “My bait is no good to me dead.”
So no feelings for her. “I hate you so much.”
“Good. Use it. That hatred will keep you going. I know this well.”
He was right. But hatred wanted more than for her to keep going. Hatred demanded results. Though she had no sword, Silt’s wounds and blood loss signaled this was the time to strike.
“Why do you think I worship revenge?” He turned to gaze at the horizon. “It provides much more strength than your idea of devotion does.” As she silently collected a large stone, he added, “We need to put distance between us and that basilisk just in case it breaks through, so pull yourself together, you bleak wench?—”
She leapt for the sorcerer and brought the rock crashing onto his head with all her might. A lesser immortal would’ve collapsed; he staggered around but shook off the hit.
Then he lunged for her. “Leech!” Tackling her backward, he knocked the stone free and covered her. “The thanks I get!” Seeming not to notice his bleeding scalp wound, he pinned her arms over her head. “I should throw you back to the basilisk.”
She leaned up from the ground, sneering, “At least its motives are pure, Silt !”
“You don’t have enough sense to be thankful.” Lips drawn back from his teeth, he grated, “The plague is already rotting your mind.”
“If I lose my sense totally, why, we could be mental equals at last!”
“Bitch.”
“Fiend.”
And then they were kissing.
How? Why? The pressure of his firm lips felt so good she moaned. He dipped his tongue inside her mouth, sweeping it against hers, shocking her with more delight.
Hate him! Feels so good . . .
Her arms went pliant beneath his merciless grip. When his hips maneuvered between her thighs, she spread them for him. Even with the wet clothes separating them, she perceived the heat of his stiffened penis rubbing over her mons.
It was hot— with blood . His heart thundered against her breasts as he thrust that generous erection atop her. Don’t stop, don’t stop!
Sorcery emanated from him like a tangible touch, caressing her skin. She traded moans for his groans; wanton sounds passed between seeking lips and tangling tongues. Despite all his experience, he was as lost as she was, his mighty frame straining over her.
When he released her wrists to pin her hips, she gripped his hair hard, and blood dripped from his scalp wound to her cheek, sending her into a frenzy.
Blood all around her. Sorcery enveloping them. His tongue and body arousing her as never before. Blood and heat and magic and madness.
Holding her where he wanted her, he bucked wildly, desperate to lose his semen. His rod rubbed her throbbing clitoris until she could perceive little else. She lusted for his length to fill her emptiness, piercing her wetness.
He broke the kiss to rasp, “You’ve got my blood inside you. My breath. And now you crave my seed inside you too.”
She moaned at the idea. I do! Crave it filling me up, marking me.
“I’ll own every inch of you.”
The possessiveness dripping from his words sent her hurtling toward climax, and she whimpered. She needed to be owned, marked, mated. . . .
He took her lips once more, was about to catch her scream with his mouth. Yet her fangs sharpened again. As if he sensed her quandary, he broke the kiss and focused on her neck.
Sucking her pulse point. Flicking his tongue against her sensitive flesh. Thrusting his powerful hips. So close . . .
Yet something alerted her senses outside of this encounter. Danger? No, she had enough of that here with him. Somehow she murmured, “Wait. Just wait.”
“What?” He raised his head, blinking glazed eyes. “I’m one thrust away from coming till my cock screams mercy .”
Really? His words were yet more titillation. Her attention zoomed to his lips, and her fangs grew even sharper. She was tempted to take another taste of him, of blood and pleasure.
No! Bloodlust and sexual lust were indistinguishable in Horde vampires. The plague gained ground. . . .
He exhaled a ragged breath. “You better have a damn good reason for stopping.”
Hadn’t she? Oh! “I smell something.”
He shook his head hard, clearing his eyes. “What is it?”
“It’s far away but definitely a new scent.” Recognition. “It’s food cooking .”