Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Iswear I’ve never seen Ozzy move so fast. One second he’s a purring lump in the chair, and the next he’s on his feet, black fur bristling. His ears flatten, his tail puffs out, and he hisses at James so fiercely that it should be terrifying– except it isn’t.
It’s actually kind of adorable.
I’ve never heard him hiss before, but it comes out high-pitched and squeaky, more like an angry tea kettle than a predator. I stifle a laugh, gaze flicking between the two of them– vampire and kitten, locked in a standoff.
“The contract said I could bring anything to make me more comfortable,” I point out, watching the way James’ jaw ticks, eyes narrowing as they stay fixed on my tiny, hissing menace.
“Not if it’s at the expense of my own comfort,” he grumbles.
I roll my eyes. “What do you have against cats?” I scoff.
“They can’t be trusted,” he replies, lip curling in distaste. “One minute they’re purring like they want affection, the next they’re sinking their claws in you.”
I can’t help but smirk at the irony. “The same could be said for vampires. Substituting fangs for claws, of course.”
He doesn’t seem remotely amused by the comparison, still frowning in Ozzy’s direction.
I carefully close the book on my lap and set it aside, fingers lingering on the cracked leather cover for a beat before I rise to my feet with a heavy sigh. “Fine,” I say, tone deliberately casual. “I guess we’ll go, then.”
James’ sharp gaze snaps to mine, lips twisting in a scowl. “No. Just the animal. You stay.”
I cross my arms over my chest, holding my ground with a defiant lift of my chin. “We’re a package deal. He stays, or I go.”
The silence between us is instant and heavy, like a storm rolling in. He regards me with one elegant brow raised, as though weighing whether I really mean it.
His gaze doesn’t linger on my face for long.
My pulse picks up speed as it slowly drifts down my body, tracing every curve with unnerving precision.
The soft sweater dress I pulled from the closet suddenly feels much thinner under that stare, the hem scandalously high even though it really isn’t.
His attention pauses at my bare thighs above my knee-high socks, lingering there longer than necessary while I struggle not to fidget beneath the weight of his attention.
Then, almost as an afterthought, his eyes flick back to my kitten.
Ozzy lets out another fierce hiss before darting off the armchair and underneath a table, claws flicking faintly against the wood as he vanishes into the shadows.
James huffs a breath, the sound edged with disdain. “Charming.”
“Non-negotiable,” I say, planting a hand on my hip.
He squeezes his eyes closed, running a hand through his pale blond hair and exhaling through clenched teeth like he’s trying to wrestle his temper into submission. When his eyes pop open again, frosty blue pins me in place, intense and unyielding. “Fine,” he grits out. “The beast can stay.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, the knot in my chest loosening.
“Now,” he drawls, arching a brow as he advances a step closer. “What about my non-negotiables?”
I squint back at him suspiciously. “Such as?”
His lips curl into a slow smirk, gaze turning wicked as it slides down my figure again. “I need to feed.”
The words thrum through me like a struck chord. My throat instantly goes dry, but I straighten my spine and force my chin up, brushing my hair over one shoulder to expose my neck in offering.
He doesn’t pounce like I expect him to. Instead, he starts toward me with deliberate slowness, each step measured, a predator stalking prey. When he stops directly in front of me, my pulse spikes so hard it’s almost embarrassing, chin tilting upward to hold his gaze.
He lifts a hand, the pad of his thumb grazing over the pulse point in my throat. I suppress a shiver at the intimacy of it, heart pounding in a chaotic rhythm.
“I think I’d prefer a different vein this time,” he murmurs.
My breath hitches, mind racing to decode the meaning behind his words.
James takes my hand, his skin cool against mine. The fingers of his other hand ghost over the inside of my wrist, then glide up to the soft bend in my elbow, as if on the hunt for where to bite.
Everywhere he touches, goosebumps rise like sparks along dry tinder. My eyes track the movement of his long fingers, his touch terrifyingly gentle, and when my gaze finally drags upward, I find his eyes already fixed on mine.
“How are you settling in?” he asks, voice low and coaxing.
“F-fine,” I manage, swallowing thickly. “I met the kitchen staff today. You really didn’t have to do all that just for me, I know how to cook for myself.”
“Who says it’s just for you?” His mouth curves faintly, amusement evident in his expression.
I tilt my head. “Do you have other humans living here?”
His shoulder lifts in a casual shrug. “The staff. But I entertain often, and I also dine when I’m in the mood for it.”
My brows knit together. “You eat?” I blurt.
The corner of his mouth ticks up. “You don’t know much about my kind, do you, darling?”
Heat flares in my face. “No,” I admit. “But my last job was waitressing the graveyard shift at a diner. Vamps came in sometimes, and they never ate.”
“I’d speculate that had more to do with the menu.
” His thumb traces lazily along the inside of my wrist, right over the fragile blue vein there.
“We don’t require food for sustenance, but many of us indulge on occasion for the taste.
” His gaze flicks up, colliding with mine. “Only when it’s worth it.”
It isn’t until then that I realize how close he’s standing; how his touch has lingered on my skin. His scent slips around me– cedarwood and snow, crisp and cold, yet edged with a dark sort of warmth. It’s intoxicating enough to make me sway toward him, my body reacting before my brain can catch up.
“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” His voice rumbles low, eyes locked on mine like he already knows the answer. “I’ve had the chefs prepare a beef wellington with filet mignon.”
I don’t even know what that is, but my mouth waters anyway. It sounds expensive. Fancy. The kind of thing you’d see on some TV show about rich people and assume tastes like heaven.
“Sure, okay,” I whisper, nodding stiffly. My hand lifts to sweep my hair aside again, exposing my throat. “Do you still need to…?” The words dry up, but the tilt of my chin says the rest.
His fingers catch a loose strand of my hair, rubbing it between them like he’s testing the softness. “So accommodating,” he remarks, smile curving in satisfaction. “But as I said, I’d prefer a different vein.”
Before I can ask what he means, his palm settles against the small of my back, guiding me toward a velvet low-backed sofa. He directs me down until I’m stretched sideways across the cushions, laid out like a feast to be devoured.
“Wha…?” I start to ask, but my throat tightens so much I can barely breathe when his fingers skim up the length of my legs, urging my thighs apart.
My knees snap together on instinct. “What are you doing?” I choke.
He doesn’t answer; doesn’t even acknowledge the panic sparking in my chest. One knee sinks onto the couch beside me as his hand pushes the hem of my sweater dress higher up my thighs.
My pulse pounds frantically in my ears as I realize where this is heading. Too soon. Too fast. I signed the contract, I agreed, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for this.
“You want…?” My voice breaks on the question.
“A different vein,” he replies calmly, nudging my thighs further apart with deliberate pressure until he can settle between them. “Something richer.”
I swallow hard, my whole body trembling as he drags his knuckles along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, tapping lightly against the pulsing artery near the apex.
“Yes?” he asks, cocking a brow.
The question hangs between us, the air charged with tension.
And suddenly, it clicks. This isn’t about sex, it’s about blood. Of course. It was foolish– presumptuous– for me to think otherwise.
“Okay,” I breathe, cheeks burning with embarrassment. I push up on my elbows, jerking a stiff nod. “Okay.”
The smile he gives me in return should come with a warning label. He’s too much– impossibly gorgeous, downright lethal in his beauty. That smile could talk me into hell itself, and I’d follow willingly.
I sink back against the cushions, thighs parted, skirt rucked indecently high.
One more inch and he’ll see my panties. And the worst part?
Some reckless part of me wants him to; wants this whole exchange to be about more than blood.
But now I’m beginning to wonder whether that damn ‘secondary services’ addendum was merely a power play, a test to see how far I could be pushed.
Am I just a glorified blood bag?
That thought should make me feel cheap. Instead, it makes me ache.
He bends low between my thighs, his breath feathering against skin that suddenly feels too exposed, too sensitive. There’s a soft pop, then his fangs pierce, sinking in.
A bolt of pleasure detonates like lightning, zipping up my spine and pooling molten in my belly. I gasp so loud it startles even me. My fingers thread into his silvery hair without thought, anchoring him there, pulling him closer.
My blood rushes to greet him, and so does everything else inside me. Heat floods between my legs, my panties damp within seconds, core pulsing with frantic need. A neck bite was overwhelming enough, but this– his mouth here, so close to where I crave it most– it’s next level.
He groans against my skin, the sound vibrating up through my thigh and unraveling me further.
He drinks slowly, each pull dragging me deeper into the fire sparking in every nerve ending.
My head falls back against the cushions, a ragged moan slipping free before I can catch it.
Heat climbs my body in waves, licking higher, leaving me panting for more.
Then, just as abruptly as it began, it ends. His fangs retract, leaving me hollow and desperate. His tongue sweeps over the twin wounds, soothing and claiming in the same motion. When his gaze lifts, locking with mine, it’s glacial. Sharp and unyielding.
I’m left squirming under that stare, chest heaving, body crying out for something– anything– to finish what he started.
“Did you enjoy that, mea dulcis?” he murmurs as he retracts his fangs, his deep voice rumbling against my skin. He inclines his head, studying me for a long moment. “You look like you need relief.”
A helpless whimper escapes me as I wriggle my hips, my body answering with a hell yes.
His blue eyes glint with something wicked. “Show me where you ache,” he coaxes.
With trembling fingers, I lift my dress that last inch, baring the scandalous scrap of black lace stretched across my mound.
His pupils flare, eyes devouring the sight. He’s looking at me like I’ve just laid myself out on a sacrificial altar, my body his new religion. A flush prickles across my cheeks, but I can’t look away.
His fingers ghost up my inner thigh until they hover at the edge of the lace, eyes lifting to lock with mine as his thumb presses right against my clit through the fabric. “Here?”
“Y-yes,” I gasp, the word catching on a shaky exhale.
He hums, the sound rich with amusement. “So eager.” A sinful smirk tugs at his mouth as he circles my clit, pressure exact and merciless. Pleasure ripples outward in sharp waves as his thumb moves with deliberate precision. “Tell me, Taylor… have you ever been intimate with a vampire?”
“N-no,” I whisper, breath splintering into short, desperate pants.
His eyes flash like lightning, hunger sparking bright. He likes that answer. “We’ll have to work you up to it,” he declares, wetting his lips with his tongue. “Vampires have certain… gifts that enhance the experience.” His thumb stills for one heart-stopping moment before he adds, “Like speed.”
His thumb starts moving faster– so fast it blurs, the vibration making my entire body jolt. White-hot pleasure spikes through me, shocking in its intensity.
“Oh my god,” I choke out, arching off the sofa, hands fisting tight in the hem of my dress.
“God has no place here, little mortal,” he chuckles, tongue darting out to lap up a stray drop of blood from my inner thigh while his thumb maintains that impossible rhythm. “Only devils.”
The words shred me. My thighs quake, my back bows, a ragged cry tears from my throat. My orgasm crashes over me so fast it’s terrifying, a tidal wave I can’t outrun. I unravel beneath his touch, trembling and gasping, every sound wrenched raw.
But he doesn’t stop.
Even as I convulse, even as my thighs snap together to trap his hand, his thumb keeps up its relentless rhythm. One climax bleeds straight into another, my body dragged mercilessly higher. The room tilts, my vision swims, tears streak down my temples.
“Please,” I sob, fingernails digging into the hard muscle of his arm. “It’s too much, too much–”
My pleas break apart into incoherent moans as another shattering wave drowns me. Only when my body goes slack, twitching and overstimulated, does his pace finally slow.
I collapse against the velvet cushions, boneless and completely wrung out. My chest heaves like I’ve just run a marathon. My eyes squeeze shut as I struggle to come back into myself, then slowly flutter open again.
He’s watching me. Studying me like something rare and fragile, his fascination edged with a dangerous hunger. His hand drifts down my thigh again in a slow, proprietary caress.
“So responsive,” he murmurs, lips curling into a smug grin.
Embarrassment floods my face, the rush of shame stinging sharper than the aftershocks of pleasure.
I’m laid out before him, flushed and panting, legs spread wide.
And while I know I signed up for this, I gave in far too easily.
One touch– over my panties, even– and he shattered me like glass.
Like I’m some na?ve virgin rather than a woman who should damn well know better.
James smooths down the hem of my dress, tucking me back into decency as if I’m his to arrange. “Welcome home,” he drawls, fingers lightly brushing my knee.
The words should comfort me, but instead, a whisper of fear coils in my gut. Because it’s far too easy to lose myself when I’m with him.
This is only the first night… and I’m terrified of how willingly I’ve already surrendered.