4. It’s Me
IT’S ME
Irene
The bond between Alex and me gave a tug the moment I woke up the next morning. I didn’t remember when he’d drunk from me that first time, but I cherished the special connection between us.
As an undead, he had no aura, and I couldn’t detect his feelings with my power, but the bond was a good substitute. I’d learnt to understand his mood by the way our connection pulled or throbbed. When it became tense and taut, he was nervous. When it softened and vibrated gently, he was happy.
Another tug came. He needed to feed, and the thought sent a thrill through me.
I donned my dressing gown and opened the door before he knocked. “Good morning.”
He raked a slow glance over me, and something clenched within me as the bond purred. His pitch-black hair made his pale skin look even paler.
“You look lovely.”
In my crumpled dressing gown and dishevelled braid? Hardly.
The scent of his musk and of the lemon soap he used wafted from him. He’d dispensed with the jacket, and the dark waistcoat fit snugly across his torso, bringing out the width of his shoulders. The couple of undone buttons on his shirt showed a strip of his muscled chest and pale skin.
I let him in. “Have you been out all night?”
“I went to see Lucy and asked a physician to examine her. Then I searched Whitechapel for Graves and Rothbart.”
At the mention of Rothbart, some of my enthusiasm evaporated.
“News?” I sat on the edge of the bed.
He remained standing, towering over me, and for some reason, I found it exciting. “On Graves, not much. He’s been spotted in Whitechapel by one of Knight’s werewolves a couple of days ago, but why he hasn’t visited his sister is a mystery.”
“If the Moon Court had more resources and a wizard like Darius, we would have already found Graves.” I fiddled with the gold cross my mother had given me for protection.
She’d been absolutely right. The cross would have no effect on a vampire unless he meant to harm me, to kill me.
“Graves is probably ashamed of what happened here and doesn’t want Lucy to know too much. What about Rothbart?”
He released a breath through his teeth as the bond tensed. “He killed another young woman.”
“Oh no.” I put a hand on my stomach, guilt gnawing at me. Rothbart had to be stopped. He fed on pain and fear, and preying on lonely women was what he preferred.
Alex caressed the top of my head lightly. “She was the daughter of a wealthy gentleman, found dead in her house that had been set on fire. But the cause of death is blunt force trauma.”
Just as it’d happened to me. Rothbart must have beaten her savagely. “You were right. He’ll never stop.”
I’d been against killing, but Rothbart had made me change my mind.
“Things are different now.” His voice softened. “We know who he is and how he operates. We’ll find him.”
I nodded but without enthusiasm.
“It’s not your fault.” He traced the curve of my jaw with a fingertip. “It’s terrible that another woman was killed, but don’t feel guilty.”
“But that woman was a human without any special powers. I’m a soul searcher and a wili, and killing Rothbart is my job.” My duty.
“Our. He beat Darius and me within an inch of our lives. He terrorised dozens of people. He hurt you. I haven’t forgiven him.”
The light touch stirred something in my chest. “You need to feed.”
“I do.” There was a strained note in his voice, and the bond tightened.
I frowned. “Are you ashamed?”
“I don’t want to weaken you. I can feed from Fiona—”
“No!” I huffed.
I wasn’t jealous of Fiona. Maybe a bit. But she was a wili.
We were sisters of sorts. But the biting was intimate and extremely pleasurable, and Alex didn’t need to feed frequently, barely once every two or three months.
Granted he didn’t strain himself or get injured.
He never drank too much. Half a cup was enough.
He pointed to the door. “I’ve met her in the corridor—”
“No.” I folded my arms across my chest.
He held up a hand. “Fine, but you know feeding from her means nothing to me. There’s only you.”
The intensity with which he said that left no room for doubt.
I lay on the bed and started to lift my sleeve to offer him my wrist, but I had a change of heart. I opened the lapels of my dressing gown and exposed my neck and collarbone.
“Irene… It’s going to be more difficult for me to stop if I drink from your lovely neck. My fangs sink more deeply, and the scent of blood is stronger.” Despite his argument, his voice acquired that deep baritone that made me quiver.
“I insist. It’s my choice, and I’m not influenced by the bite or anything else.” My pulse spiked just because he stared at me with hunger. “And I trust you. You won’t hurt me.”
The tip of his tongue darted out to run over his bottom lip. His fangs lengthened, and the white in his silver-grey eyes turned a deep obsidian.
“Are you sure?” When he unleashed his vampire powers, his voice lowered, and his muscles swelled.
He looked massive and lethal. But underneath, he was sweet, caring, and so very afraid of not being good enough for me.
“Very.” I tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck further.
“A bite on the neck is going to be different from when I drink from your wrist. It’s more painful at first.”
“You won’t discourage me.” I sounded breathy already, and he hadn’t drunk from me yet.
“The blood rushes out more quickly.”
“I’ll live.” I was a spirit of vengeance, after all.
He dipped his head, and I caught a whiff of his delicious scent. His breath feathered over my skin, causing it to pebble. It was unfortunate that he wasn’t going to touch me as much as I wished. Not as I wanted. As we both did.
“Your scent drives me mad.” He trailed his tongue over my neck, and a moan caused my breath to catch. “I’m going to bite you now.”
My chest rose and fell with anticipation. I let out a gasp when his teeth broke my skin, but the pain lasted only a second because he started to suck immediately with gentle pulls.
The pleasure when he drank from my wrist was the most intense I’d ever experienced, but this surpassed it. Every inch of my body was tingling, humming, and aching. A throb pulsated between my legs in rhythm with his sips.
Wave after wave of pleasure poured through me. My back arched, and a sensual sound I hadn’t known I could produce slipped past my lips.
I rocked my hips and writhed, moaning shamelessly. My toes curled. It was all too intense, burning, all-consuming.
The tips of his curls caressed my neck, but aside from his mouth, he wasn’t touching me. I wanted his hands on my body, exploring and touching, and I wanted my hands on his body, too. Our bodies joined together. But he remained still while the ache grew and energy built up inside me.
He kept sucking gently, and the more he drank, the more my body begged for more.
“Alex…” I whispered.
He stroked my breast slowly. I pushed up, thrusting my breast into his palm. He rubbed my nipple with the rough pad of his thumb, and a new surge of pleasure shuddered through me. Only the sensation of his touch existed.
A surge of pleasure shot straight to my head. Pleasure dominated me.
Each sip brought me closer to another peak. I grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheet not to touch him.
The release caught me off guard with its strength.
I moved on instinct. I slid my arm down his neck to his back.
“Alex…”
He shot away from me as if a cannonball had hit him in the chest. Blood trickled from his mouth as he shivered so hard that his teeth chattered.
The shock and hurt on his face sobered me.
I perched on the edge of the bed as little spasms of pleasure rocked me. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
He stared at me with horror, and our bond strained painfully. He’d made progress, but rushing him would have the opposite of the desired effect.
“Please say something.” I winced as the wound on my neck ached.
All the pleasure was gone, leaving me sore and dizzy. Drops of blood stained my dressing gown. He’d been right about his fangs going deeply into my flesh. The wounds were deep, and my healing powers struggled to heal them quickly.
He licked his lips, cleaning the blood from them. “Lie down and stay still. Please.”
I did as told, my head spinning. He was shivering when he leant over me.
“I promise not to move.” I rested my head on the pillow.
He licked the wounds to heal them. I lay on the bed, spent and satiated but worried about how much he was shivering.
The lashes of his tongue and the brush of his lips were soft and gentle, even though tremors coursed through him.
When he finished, he stepped back from the bed, his shoulders stooping. “You should feel better.”
“Alex.” I tried to control the quiver in my voice, but the release and the scare of having hurt him had left me breathless. “I’m so sorry.”
His hair fell over his cheeks when he hung his head. “It’s not you. It’s me. It shouldn’t be like that between us. You should be able to touch me whenever you want. Hell, that’s my dream as well, but I’m turning it into a nightmare for both of us.”
“That’s not true. You’re making progress. Don’t be discouraged.”
He didn’t raise his gaze. “You’re very kind. Thank you.”
Thank you?
Alex had never been rude to me, but the demure tone and submissive expression didn’t belong to him.
“Why don’t we talk?” I sat upright and tapped the spot next to me.
He sat down, but he didn’t lose his defeated expression.
“You can’t give up now.” I hovered my hand over his, so that he would feel the warmth of my skin without me touching him.
“I’m not giving up, but I should have overcome this problem by now. My progress is so slow it makes a slug look impatient.”
“Patience is exactly the point. And I’ll wait for you for as long as it’s needed because you’re worthy of the wait.”
The bond relaxed a little, but the cast of his shoulders remained implacable.
“Would you lie next to me?”
“No, I need…” He averted his gaze, but I didn’t miss his hurt expression.
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Whenever his fear was triggered, he had to scrub himself raw with lye soap. He needed to remove any trace of the unwanted physical contact. With me.
It saddened me, mostly because it was as if we were going backwards. We still had a lot of work to do.
“I understand.” I forced myself not to touch him.
His struggle with touching had started when Rothbart had beaten him viciously right before his transformation had kicked in. From that moment, Alex had developed a strong sensitivity to touch. As if I didn’t have enough reason to hate Rothbart.
Alex paused at the door. Our bond trembled. “One way or another, I’ll make you proud of me.” He left my bedroom with slow steps, radiating sadness.
But I was already proud of him.