17. Honeymoon from Hell
Chapter seventeen
Honeymoon from Hell
Nicolette
“ N icolette.” Julian’s rough voice—low, strained, nothing like his usual velvet—startled me awake.
I blinked, disoriented, then realized I’d fallen asleep in his arms. Brilliant.
Truly top-tier decision-making on my part, considering he was probably a full-blown vampire by now.
I’d seen his eyes darken last night, watched the hunger flicker through them like a warning flare.
Which was why I’d tried to keep talking. My hope was to distract him.
Unfortunately, he’d also been sweet. Disarmingly so. Which had distracted me. He’d told me the most incredible stories—casually reminiscing about the Renaissance, the Industrial Revolution, and that one evening stroll with Jane Austen as if they were items on his weekly calendar.
It had been far too easy to get lost in him. To like him.
Regrettably, liking him also meant I’d let my guard down, and now I was waking up in the arms of a lethal predator.
“Don’t make any sudden movements. I’m not feeling like myself this morning,” Julian warned, his breath an inch from my neck. “And you . . .” He inhaled me, a low groan rumbling out of him. “You are everything I want. Need.”
While that might sound romantic to anyone else, I knew this was no rom-com. I swallowed hard, fighting to steady my pulse, fighting not to move at all. “Julian,” I whispered. “This isn’t who you are. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. I’m going to turn around now.”
I felt him give a small nod—permission or warning, I wasn’t sure.
Carefully, painfully slowly, I turned to face him on our bed of pillows.
The only light came from the movie screen frozen on a credit reel, casting faint shadows across his features.
Every window in the room was blacked out to protect him until I could administer the plasma treatment.
Sunlight wouldn’t kill him, but it would burn him with deep, blistering lesions that took days to heal.
I couldn’t help wondering why. What exactly made sunlight so catastrophic to their biology? What overlap existed between porphyria and whatever mutation vampirism truly was? Was porphyria a distant, diluted branch of the same genetic tree?
When I came face-to-face with him, it was like staring at a stranger.
His features had sharpened, every line carved with hunger and restraint.
His pale blue eyes were now darkened, and his pupils were no longer just black—they were rimmed in a thin, terrifying ring of crimson.
His jaw was clenched so tightly I couldn’t tell if he was in pain or simply fighting the urge to let his fangs descend.
I searched his face for Julian—for any flicker of the human side of him I’d come to know.
He shut his eyes, as if ashamed I was seeing him like this. That small act gave me just enough hope, just enough courage, to lift my hands to his cheeks. They weren’t merely cold. They were ice.
“Please . . . give me the plasma,” he begged, voice ragged. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Julian, you promised me you wouldn’t hurt me. I believe you.”
His eyes snapped open—too fast, too predatory. What stared back at me was hunger in its purest form.
“Your blood calls to me more than any other,” he said, voice low and ruined. “I’ve never had such a craving before.”
“This is a good thing,” I chirped, trying to keep the moment light even though I was terrified.
“You don’t know what you’re saying. To hell with this experiment.”
“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended.
He blinked, startled.
“This isn’t you talking,” I said, keeping my voice steady even though my pulse was doing its own panicked drum solo. “This is your bloodlust. And it isn’t worth your humanity. Because whether you believe it or not, you do have a very human side.”
I gestured faintly around us. “Look at this. I don’t know many vampires—thank goodness,” I added, trying to add some more levity.
It earned me the barest hint of a smile, even if it was edged with something feral.
“But I don’t know any who would throw their wife a slumber party, make her favorite treats, and queue up her favorite movies. That was human, Julian. All of it.”
I held his gaze, refusing to flinch. “Don’t you want to see if we can find all of you again?
” Honestly, I was becoming more and more excited about the prospect.
Not just because it could offer me freedom, but because the thought of discovering a cure for what could be an ancient mutation in human DNA was nothing short of thrilling.
Julian placed his hands, hard and cold as stone, over mine, gripping them. “Nicolette, all I can see and feel now is you. Just take my blood and give me the plasma. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t,” I said simply, as if that alone could fix everything.
“You don’t know what this feels like,” he rasped. “The urge inside me to have you. All of you. Your blood. Your body.”
I forced myself not to panic—at least not outwardly.
Every instinct screamed at me to stay calm, keep it light, remind him we were on the same side.
“Are you kidding me? Julian, how many times have I practically ripped my clothes off and begged you to make love to me? Do you remember the first few times we kissed? Our wedding? I made the priest blush. I think I know a thing or two about craving.”
“You were beautiful that day.” He loosened his grip on my hands. His thumb gently skimming my skin.
An idea popped into my head. A ridiculous one. But I was desperate here. And we needed a distraction. “Speaking of our wedding. Let’s open our gifts.”
Not that I actually cared about them. And it meant I’d have to write thank-you cards, which felt like its own special brand of torture. But if it kept me alive another day, so be it.
“Is this your way of distracting me?” Julian guessed.
“Um . . . yes.”
“I doubt it will work, but I suppose we should open them. It’s rude that we haven’t yet.”
“Totally rude,” I agreed. It felt like the safest option, considering he currently wanted to order me off the menu. “I’m going to slowly get up now. I need a human moment in the bathroom. So you think human thoughts while you get our gifts and bring them out here for us to open.”
I sounded like an absolute idiot. But this was my first rodeo with a bloodthirsty vampire. Unfortunately, I had a sinking suspicion it wouldn’t be my last.
“You’re adorable.” Julian offered me a strained smile.
“Please remember that. Think of all the adorable things about me you would miss if you . . . well . . . you know,” I rambled.
“I would miss you, Nicolette. Now get up slowly and don’t run from me. No sudden movements today,” he warned.
“Okay,” I squeaked—possibly my last squeak ever—as he reluctantly released me. I rose an inch at a time, painfully aware of every shift in my body, every flutter of my pulse. Then I eased backward, keeping my gaze locked on him. “Nice vampire, nice vampire,” I sang in a ridiculous high pitch.
Julian gave me a wry grin. Every muscle in him looked coiled, fighting to stay anchored to the pillows. I appreciated the effort more than I could say.
When I finally made it to the guest bathroom, I shut the door behind me and sagged against it, dragging in several deep breaths like I’d just run a half marathon. I had to remind myself—silently, firmly—why I was doing this. What was at stake.
“I’m sorry, Nicolette.”
Julian’s rough voice came from the other side of the door, startling me so hard, my heart nearly leapt out of my chest.
I hadn’t even heard his footsteps. Of course I hadn’t. If he decided to attack me, at least it would be quick—over before I even registered what was happening. Comforting, really. In a bleak, wo w, my life has come to this sort of way.
“I know, Julian,” I exhaled, trying to sound calm, trying to sound human, hoping it might coax out whatever humanity he still had hold of. “You got this. We got this.”
“We shall see,” he said ominously.
On that cheery note, I decided to take my chances and do a few basic human things—brush my teeth, fix my hair, pretend I wasn’t living in a horror movie of my own making.
There was absolutely no way I was getting in the shower.
There would be zero nudity in this penthouse until after I’d administered the plasma treatment.
Boundaries. Safety. Survival. Those were my words of the day.
As each minute ticked by, I wondered if he was prowling outside the door. Imagining what awaited me on the other side didn’t help the panic any. I wished I could stay in there and hide, but this whole brilliant plan had been my idea, and I had to see it through.
I was especially excited for the part where I drew my own blood in front of my ravenous husband and then offered it to him. Truly, what a delightful morning I had crafted for myself.
Carefully, I opened the door and peeked out. Relief washed through me when I spotted Julian sitting on the couch, a neatly stacked mountain of presents arranged on the coffee table as if he were hosting a bridal shower.
I tiptoed out, and his head snapped toward me instantly. Every hair on my body stood at attention. He looked . . . menacing. Beautiful, but menacing.
“Hi, honey,” I sang, because apparently my survival instincts were set to Disney princess.
Julian shook his head at my pathetic attempt to shield my neck. I’d pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up and cinched it tight like a terrified toddler.
“Might as well take the hood off,” he said sardonically. “It won’t stop me. Besides, I’d just as soon sink my teeth into your bare legs as your neck.”
“You might have warned me about that.” I flipped the hood off, disgruntled, wishing I’d worn sweatpants instead of boxer shorts.
“I apologize for shattering your misconceptions about my kind.”
“Someone should really talk to Hollywood,” I teased as I inched toward him, trying to pretend I wasn’t approaching a very hungry apex predator.