Chapter 21 Danica
Danica
Islam onto the hard floor like a sack of potatoes, the impact reverberating through my bones. Pain radiates through every inch of my body, and for a moment, I'm sure I've broken something important, like my spine or my dignity.
I lay there, gasping for air, trying to will the world to stop spinning.
What the hell was that?
One minute I'm on Captain Douchbag's ship, the next, I'm being sucked through a portal like Alice down the rabbit hole, only instead of Wonderland, I've ended up in hell.
Nausea rolls through me in waves, and I swallow hard, fighting the urge to puke.
Once my breathing is under control, I look around, trying to get my bearings.
Holy shit, I'm in my apartment.
How did I get here? I slowly stand, my head spinning. I'm about to start questioning my sanity when I hear the front door open, and in walks Lucian, carrying groceries like he's just returned from a Sunday stroll.
I stand there, stunned, my mouth hanging open. It takes me a moment to remember how to speak. "Lucian?"
Even to my own ears, I sound unsure, like I'm not entirely convinced he's really there.
How did he get free? How long have I been gone?
He glances up at me, and the grocery bag slips from his hands, spilling its contents all over the floor. Milk splatters everywhere, and I'm pretty sure I hear the crunch of broken eggs. But Lucian doesn't seem to notice; his eyes lock on me like he's seeing a ghost.
"How?" is all I manage to get out before he's on me in a blur of motion, moving so fast I can barely track him. The next thing I know, my back is against the wall, and he's all up in my personal space, his face inches from mine.
"You..." he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. He's looking at me like I'm some enigma he can't quite figure out—like a puzzle missing a few pieces.
Finally gathering my wits, I snap, "Yes, it's me, you idiot. Now back up and explain to me how—"
But he cuts me off, burying his face in my neck and inhaling deeply, his lips barely grazing my skin.
"Why do you smell so good? You smell like.
.." He takes another deep breath, his nose skimming along my collarbone.
"Like caramel candy, like Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, like.
.." He licks up my neck, and I can't suppress the shiver that runs through me. "Like I want to eat you alive."
I push at his chest to create distance between us, but it's like trying to move a brick wall. "Lucian, get off me. What the hell is wrong with you?" I demand, my voice sharp with annoyance.
"I smell something else—familiar, like a part of me, somehow. Are you mine?"
I look at him like he's lost his damn mind. He's smelling his blood, the unwanted parasite still coursing through my veins. "Yeah, jackass, it's your blood. Remember?" I snap, rolling my eyes. "And no, I'm not yours. I'm Rhyland's—your brother. Ring any bells?"
He shakes his head and chuckles, the sound dark and dangerous. "Nope. Sure don't. My memory's been wiped cleaner than a baby's ass, and right now, I don't give a flying fuck about any of that. All I want is to taste you, Dream Girl."
His fangs slide out, sharp and gleaming, and his brown eyes glaze with hunger.
Oh, shit.
That witch wiped Lucian's memory. Fabulous—just wonderful. As if dealing with Lucian on a regular basis wasn't enough of a pain in the ass, now I've got to deal with an amnesiac version of him? This is just peachy, really. I'm sure this will end well for everyone involved.
This is a whole new level of fucked up.
He's still got me pressed up against the wall, his body molded to mine in a way that's far too intimate for my liking. I can't blast his ass across the room, not without my blood in his system, so I need to talk him down—to get through to him somehow.
"Okay, okay... let's take a step back and talk—you don't remember anything?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm and even. "You don't know who I am?"
"You've been sneakily starring in all my naughty dreams—my private backstage fantasies.
" His big brown puppy dog eyes meet mine.
"And let's just skip the chit-chat, Dream Girl.
What I really want is to sample every delectable inch of you, get up close and personal with that sweet neck of yours, and drink until I've had my fill. "
His words send a bolt of fear through me, but there's something else, too—something I really don't want to examine too closely. Lucian fantasizing and dreaming about me is just what I need.
Great, he's got a death wish and is dragging me along for the ride.
Now he's looking at me like I'm a feast laid out just for him, his eyes dark with hunger and desire.
I try to push him away again, but it's like trying to move a mountain. "Lucian, please, you don't want to do this. This isn't you," I plead, my voice trembling despite my efforts to keep it steady.
But he's not listening. His lips trail down my neck, his fangs grazing my skin. "Just one little nibble…it's all I need, beautiful."
For the love of all that is HOLY. Maybe one bite will be okay; that way, he's protected from my light, and then I can blast him into next fucking week. I shouldn't even consider this, but Lucian is far gone and isn't budging.
Rhyland is going to kill me. And then resurrect me just to kill me again.
I shudder, and then, with a gentleness that catches me completely off guard, he sinks his fangs into my neck, piercing my skin like it's made of butter.
I gasp, my hands fisting in his shirt as a tidal wave of sensation crashes over me.
This is wrong on so many levels, like, we're talking "invading Russia in the winter" levels of wrong here.
But it's Lucian; he needs my blood so I don't accidentally fry him like a chicken nugget with my powers.
Still, this isn't right. He shouldn't be doing this, and I sure as hell shouldn't be allowing it.
But here we are, in a situation that's about as comfortable as a cactus in a Speedo, and I'm letting him drink from me like I'm a walking, talking juice box.
I mean, I get it; he's not in his right mind, and I don't want to hurt him.
I feel like I'm in some twisted vampire soap opera, and I'm the unwitting heroine who's about to get swept off her feet by the smart-ass, amnesiac vampire brother to my mate.
UGH.
I stand still, just waiting for him to get enough to return to his senses.
But then I feel his venom seep into my bloodstream, and knowing Lucian and how generous he is, he's giving me a triple dose, the bastard.
I can feel it seeping in, spreading through my veins like wildfire—my body instantly limp, my knees and legs giving out under my weight.
But Lucian only holds me tighter against him, cradling me like I'm something precious, something to be cherished.
My mind is screaming at me to push him away, to put an end to this before it goes any further—my body betrays me.
The sensation of his fangs in my neck, the feeling of his lips on my skin.
.. it's doing things to me that I don't want to think about.
Damn vampire venom, turning me into a puddle of goo when I should be focused on getting out of this situation.
My body ignites, heat coursing through my veins as my core tightens—courtesy of his venom.
It's like I've just been injected with a supercharged dose of desire.
My arousal skyrockets, and I can't help but reach up, tangling my fingers in his hair and curling it around my hand, practically begging him to keep going.
He moans into my neck, the vibration shooting down my spine like an electric current.
"Sweet merciful chimichangas, you taste like heaven dipped in sunshine and a tall glass of lemonade— I can smell your arousal—I can't freaking stop," he groans, his voice bouncing around my brain like a pinball on a sugar high.
I can't move, trapped like a fly in a spider's web under the onslaught of his bite, his venom turning my limbs to jelly.
His teeth sink deeper, and he pulls harder at my blood, drinking me down like I'm the finest vintage.
My hands fall to my sides, useless and limp, as he continues to hold me to him, his body molded to mine.
I can feel him getting hard, his dick pressing against my stomach as he grinds into me, his hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that makes me want to scream. This is wrong, so wrong, but my body doesn't seem to care, responding to his touch like a flower turning towards the sun.
I try to gather my thoughts, to focus on anything but the pleasure coursing through me, but it's like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.
I can't seem to make myself move or find the strength to push him away—I'm frozen in place, caught between the horror of what's happening and the undeniable pleasure of his bite. I'm pretty sure this is what going mad feels like, and I'm not a fan.
Then my vision darkens, like the lights going out at the end of a terrible play. My body grows weaker with each pull on my neck, and I'm entirely limp in his arms now. He holds me up, cradling my head with one hand and wrapping his strong arm around my back, trapping me against him.
He's taking too much.
"Lucian..." I whisper, or at least I think I do. My voice is barely a breath as my body is being drained dry. "S-stop." That's all I can manage, and it's about as effective as yelling at a hurricane to calm down.
He doesn't stop. If anything, his grip tightens, and he sucks harder, like he's trying to draw every last drop of me into him.
His moaning grows more intense, vibrating against my skin, and I know he's completely lost to the bloodlust. He doesn't recognize me, doesn't realize why my blood is driving him crazy, and now my fear is kicking into overdrive.
My brain is screaming at me to fight, to run—to do anything to get away, but my body isn't listening.
It's like I'm a puppet, and the strings have been cut.