12. Chapter 12
12
Chapter 12
Darick
I can still taste her.
Her flavor lingers on my tongue, a maddening blend of sweetness and spice that defies description. It’s been several lifetimes since anything affected me this profoundly. As I stride through the halls of my mansion, my mind reels, unable to process the emotions coursing through me.
The kiss was electric, charged with an intensity I’ve never experienced before. The warmth of her lips, the softness of her skin – it all haunts me, refusing to fade from my senses. I find myself touching my lips absently, chasing the phantom sensation of her against me.
What the fuck just happened?
In all my existence, nothing has ever affected me this way. The irony isn’t lost on me. A vampire, enthralled by a witch. If the situation weren’t so damn serious, I might actually laugh.
But there’s nothing humorous about the hunger gnawing at my insides.
This isn’t the familiar thirst I’ve grown accustomed. This is something darker, more urgent. It pulses through my veins, refusing to be ignored.
I head to my study, my steps quickening. I need to think, to strategize. But my mind keeps circling back to the woman in the grove. The way she looked at me with those fierce green eyes, equal parts defiance and desire. The slight tremble in her voice as she hurled accusations at me. The softness of her body pressed against mine in that brief, mind-numbing moment.
Fuck.
I slam the door of my study behind me, welcoming the familiar surroundings. Books line the walls, pages that are familiar to me from countless hours I’ve spent poring over them. But right now, all that wisdom feels useless in the face of this—
What the fuck is it?
My fingers twitch, longing to reach out across the mental link we share. But I resist. She’s made it clear she wants nothing to do with me. And yet…
The hunger surges again, stronger this time.
What is happening to me?
Is it the Bloodbane? Is it some sort of side effect? I know that witch blood can ease the symptoms. Is that why I’m drawn to her?
But why her specifically?
I close my eyes, trying to center myself. But all I can see is her face, flushed with anger and something else. Something that mirrored the desire I felt flooding me too.
I give a low growl of frustration. This is dangerous territory. She’s a witch, for fuck’s sake. Our kinds have been at war for as long as I can remember. But I can’t deny the pull I feel towards her.
The thirst intensifies, a burning sensation that seems to consume me from the inside out. I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s not just a physical need – it’s as if my very soul is crying out for something only she can provide.
I need to feed. Now.
But the thought of drinking from anyone else feels…wrong.
Which is bullshit.
I need to put a stop to this. I’ve faced tougher challenges. That’s all this is. Just another challenge. I have to confront it and put it behind me.
My fangs ache, desperate for release. With a surge of determination, I reach for the house phone on my desk. “Bring me blood. Now,” I growl; my voice is dangerously guttural.
Minutes crawl by like hours. Finally, a servant arrives, a trembling human who watches me with wary eyes, immediately sensing that I’m in a mood. I snatch the crystal decanter from his hands before he can even cross the threshold. I don’t bother with niceties – I’m beyond that now.
The stench hits me first. It should be enticing, but my stomach clenches as I take it in. It feels…off. Wrong. Not what I truly crave. I push the thought aside. This is what I need. What I’ve always needed.
I force myself to pour a glass, watching the crimson liquid swirl. My body screams in protest, but I raise it to my lips.
Just drink, dammit.
I tip it back, fighting away my gag reflex as I let the blood flow down my throat.
For a split second, there’s relief.
Then…agony.
My insides feel like they’re being shredded. I double over, the glass shattering as it hits the floor. My vision blurs, and I taste bile rising in my throat.
No, goddammit!
As I retch and gasp, one thought burns through the haze of pain:
Her. I need her.
That’s bullshit. I don’t need anything.
The taste of human blood lingers on my tongue, acrid and wrong. As I fight to regain control, memories flood my mind, sharp and vivid.
The grove. Moonlight filtering through the trees. Deep green eyes flashing with anger and…something else. The scent of her, intoxicating and unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.
Then, her lips on mine. Soft. Warm. Alive.
I remember the thundering of her pulse, the rush of blood just beneath her skin. The hunger that surged through me. Not just for her blood but for her. All of her.
The memory shifts and I’m back in the club, the first time I felt the Bloodbane’s grip. The beautiful woman offering herself, eager and willing. The sharp pain as I tried to feed, my body rejecting what should have sustained me.
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of memories. Her breath, quick and shallow as she pulled away from our kiss. The flush of her cheeks, the slight tremor in her hands as she shoved at my chest. And underneath it all, the sweet, maddening scent of her blood.
I surge to my feet, my vision blurring as the room spins around me, my body rebelling against the blood I’ve just consumed. The pain in my gut is excruciating, but it’s nothing compared to the hunger that claws at my insides. I need…something. Someone.
I can’t give up. I can’t give in to this.
“Master? Is everything alright?” The servant’s voice cuts through my haze, and suddenly, all I can focus on is the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The scent of his blood, warm and pumping, floods my senses.
Before I can stop myself, I’m at the door, yanking it open with enough force to nearly tear it from its hinges. The young man stumbles back, his eyes wide with fear as he takes in my appearance.
“M-master?” he stammers, but I barely hear him. All I can see is the pulse point in his neck, throbbing tantalizingly.
In a flash, I have him pinned against the wall, my hand at his throat. He whimpers, and the sound only fuels my frenzy. I lean in, my fangs extending, ready to tear into his flesh. Ready to rip out his throat.
What the fuck am I doing?
I freeze, my fangs mere millimeters from the human’s skin. Why? Why do it? I won’t be able to drink from him, anyway. It would be a waste of a life just to prove a point.
You’re better than this.
With a herculean effort, I force myself to pull back. He crumples to the floor, gasping for air. I stagger away, horror washing over me as I realize how close I came to losing control completely.
“Get out,” I rasp, my voice barely recognizable. “Now!”
The human doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet and bolts, leaving me alone with the aftermath of my near-fatal lapse.
I slump against the wall, trembling. I can’t remember when I last came this close to losing control. The thought leaves me shaken. I’ve prided myself on my iron will, on being able to manage my impulses. And yet, here I am, nearly driven to madness by a hunger I can’t understand or control.
If I can’t get a handle on it, this thing is going to end me.