Chapter 5
Shane
Awareness slowly filtered into my brain.
Beneath my head was a soft pillow. A sheet rested over my legs, its material smooth and light, and a cool breeze smelling faintly of pine caressed my hot and overly sensitive skin.
Pain throbbed in my wrists, and an enticing yet salty taste lingered in my mouth, one that matched seamlessly with the decadent and alluring male scent that enveloped me.
“Fuck…” I mumbled between dry lips. My breathing quickened, and my eyes snapped open.
It was his scent. His blood. He was what I could taste.
And, gods, could I taste him. It was the best thing I’d ever had in my mouth.
Even now, I wanted more...of his blood, the feel of his hands on my skin, his power washing over me.
That whole thought pathway sent a wave of confusion through me.
I’d never even considered being with a male, and now I had no clue what that meant.
Everything about him touching me, feeding me, even tying me down and taking control, had turned me on to the point I couldn’t think of anything else.
I’d needed his blood as much as my body had needed his touch.
Mother wolf, dammit! My mind was hazy, but I was sure it had been days of feeding and orgasms. He’d utterly taken control.
Even my wolf had obeyed his every command; it was as if a switch had been flipped in my head, and he was my entire focus.
I had no issues with male-on-male; it just wasn’t something I’d ever considered for myself.
My brows drew down as I tried to pinpoint why not.
After all, I’d enjoyed sex with women. I’d had a harem of females willing to answer when I called, but nothing had ever affected me like his touch had.
Even now, my cock jumped, standing to attention, and tenting the lightweight sheet.
I stared at my body’s reaction, replaying the details of what had happened in the last few days.
Was it a few days? I rubbed my face and exhaled heavily.
I had no idea how much time had passed, not that it mattered.
My quick glance around the room confirmed that it was empty.
My tense muscles released a little. I needed time to think, to understand what was happening to me and what it meant.
Except, I really didn’t. I was a fucking vampire, that’s what.
I wasn’t so naive as to think all this was anything else.
Now, I needed to understand what being a Made truly meant.
My stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting my thoughts.
I was so damned hungry, I might start chewing the sheets soon.
My heart thundered and my palms sweated as I remembered the hunger that had slammed into me at the party.
I could only describe it as a rage, a need so desperate that I would have killed anyone in my path.
I swallowed my disgust. I’d tried to get to Rawson.
..to use him for blood! Fuck, I could have killed him!
Coldness settled in my chest. I sat right forward and rubbed at it, for all the good it did.
And what about the desperate sexual need that had accompanied the first taste of the Count’s blood?
Running a trembling hand over my face didn’t erase that memory.
That red elixir had been the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted, until it heated every cell in my body into an inferno of lust. I’d literally felt like I’d go mad if I didn’t get relief, my body wound so tight I’d wanted to explode.
Desire rolled through me again, and I groaned, unable to stop my thoughts being consumed by memories of the Count’s stunning face, his honed body, and those damned talented hands of his.
“Fuck me!” I fisted my cock and jerked it, picturing his face and the look on it as he played with my body, even though I had no idea why he turned me on so much.
My wolf rumbled deep inside me, broadcasting his need to hunt, to kill.
He was hungry for the Count’s blood. He’d always been a headstrong presence in my mind, but right now, all he wanted was to sink his fangs into that warm, blood-filled skin and vicariously enjoy the pleasure I felt as I fucked the Count’s fist.
That wasn’t good, like, at all. He wanted more of the midnight scent and the powerful presence that had kept him, and me, in check last night.
It was the only one that had ever been able to control him.
I felt his need for that kind of partner.
He was as lost as I was now that he could no longer become a wolf and run free.
At least, we hadn’t been able to shift—not since—them.
I’d felt his submission to the Count, along with mine.
For us both, it came with a strange sense of relief.
Not one of my previous sexual partners had ever come close to being our equal in power, and, though I’d thought my wolf would hate that kind of dynamic, he now craved it.
His need to push, to find our limits and see if together we could manipulate, maybe even one day dominate, such a commanding soul was something that left me shocked, yet with a strange excitement bubbling in my gut.
Taking a steady breath, I tried to push him back a little.
I didn’t want to fight with him, but I couldn’t let him take control until I knew I wouldn’t hurt anyone, namely Sorcha.
She was in the castle somewhere. I could scent her on the breeze.
Part of me rejoiced that the Count hadn’t sent her away, part of me was furious at him for putting her at risk while I was in this unpredictable state.
She’d already been terribly abused by the vampire she’d thought was to be her loving husband, only to find out he was nothing of the sort.
She’d been a slave, pure and simple. Yet, as awful as her life had been, she’d survived that abuse, just as I had all the shit that had been thrown my way.
I never wanted to hurt her. And I wasn’t stupid enough to think this was over.
I studied my thin forearms and shoved the sheet back, panic gripping me.
My legs were just the same; my muscle mass had disappeared.
My body was eating itself as it morphed into whatever monster I was becoming.
My breathing quickened, pins and needles tingling in my fingers.
Darkness threatened the edge of my vision.
Shit! Come on, Shane, you can beat this.
It isn’t your first rodeo on the shit show of life. First, you survive. Then you get even.
I took a deep breath in. Then out. “One.” I held onto another breath as long as I could before I exhaled. “Two.” In...Out…
I had no idea how long it took, but eventually my breathing evened out. Exhausted, I released my death grip on the sheets and sank into my pillows before turning my head to take a closer look at my surroundings.
Sunlight filtered through the open floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains and bathed the foot of the bed.
My breath hitched as I contemplated that beautiful sight.
I had no idea if that simple, everyday occurrence could hurt me now.
I knew some information about Original Vampires, and regardless of all the ridiculous human legends that surrounded them, they didn’t combust in sunlight.
However, it could give terrible burns to young vampires like me.
The only truth in legends like garlic, holy water, and stakes was that a stake through the heart could end a vamp.
But, then again, it would end most supernaturals.
Even for those who were immortal like vampires and fae, being immortal did not mean invincible.
We could all bleed out. The only vampire in legend to be immune to a stake through his heart was King Korlov, an ancient king who’d died after saving his grandson from an assassination that took the life of his children and almost everyone in his household.
Legend had it that the assassins had staked him, but that he was one of the first Originals, demons from Hell who had spawned the vampire nation.
And that he had healed, hiding in the shadows and biding his time before he struck, raining destruction down on his enemies.
I’d never cared enough about vampire legends to find out if there was any truth to them.
Nor did I know if the Mades who’d kidnapped me and sent me down this path had the weaknesses of legend that Originals didn’t.
Though legends were often based on fact, it would probably serve me well to find out.
I snarled and peered out of the window at the sky.
Familiar towers greeted me, but they were in the wrong position from my usual view.
A quick perusal of the room showed there was no clutter.
The surfaces were neat and devoid of personal items. Even the dressing table was empty.
It looked cold and impersonal, like a guest room.
The only items out of place were my bag, which looked like it had been flung in the corner of the room, and the clothes lying neatly over the high-backed armchair in the corner.
The decor and bedding were coordinated and modern, giving a minimalist, very masculine look.
The only thing that alerted me to this not being a guest room was the scent playing havoc with my mind and body.
I ran a hand over my face, my heart racing.
This was the Count’s room. His deep musky scent was everywhere, surrounding me.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, hunger gnawing at my insides.
But it wasn’t hunger for food; it was a yearning for his taste, his blood rolling across my tongue and down my throat, his hands touching every part of me.
“Motherfucking wolf, what the hell am I doing?” I muttered as my body sprang to life.
I had no idea if it was normal for a vampire to lust after the nearest blood source, not just as a food supply, but as a way to deal with the other sensations that came with it.
I wasn’t completely ignorant of what was happening to me.
I’d done some of my own research, but I hadn't realised the devastating need for sex would drive me mad. Was I craving him, a male, because of a lack of options? I almost laughed. I’d made that excuse in prison when I’d been attracted to a male.
I’d never acted on my attractions; instead, I’d always sought out a willing pack female for sex.
I groaned as my erection only grew harder, and my thirst increased. Shit, what should I do? I was so fucking hungry. I needed blood. I looked around. There was none here.
The covers whispered as I kicked them off my too-hot body and swung my legs to the floor.
Cursing at my trembling, weak limbs, I staggered to the door, utterly unconcerned about my nakedness.
The room spun, but I managed to grab the brass door handle and yank it open.
The sweet scent of blood hit me. I snarled, and before I could stop myself, I was onto the owner of that pulsing, glorious life elixir.
It was mine to take. A warm body that could give me sustenance and pleasure