KITTY
“Iwant you to bite me. Make me like you,” Bo said.
After the breakfast with the Oracle had broken up, he’d followed her back to her room, a fact that had left every cell of her body singing with hopeful anticipation. But she hadn’t expected his command, or the fiery way he delivered it.
“Bo, Sweetie,” she masked her discomfort with a laugh, closing the bedroom door behind them. “We came here so I could get rid of my vampyrism, remember? Not so I could give it to you.”
“You hear what the Oracle said,” Bo pressed. “If Charlie’s in Issastar, he’s in danger. And if there’s a way I can get my vision back, get down there and help him… I have to do it.”
Kitty shook her head. “It’s not that simple. You don’t understand what being a vampyre is like. The endless longing. The blood hunger gnawing at you—this maddening, all-consuming thirst you can never quite quench.”
Bo reached out, found Kitty’s hand, and held it tight.
“I understand longing. Ever since I lost my sight, I’ve longed to get it back.
To fly again. To be part of the fight instead of sitting on the sidelines.
And flying with you on the way here…” He shook his head, words momentarily failing him.
“I’m not a farmer, Kitty. I was an ace, just like Charlie.
And I was good. I was damn good. That’s all I want.
To be an ace again. To be myself again. You can give that to me. ”
Bo was normally so calm, so steady. She’d never seen him this fiery. It was disconcerting, but it was thrilling, too. Still, she couldn’t give him what he wanted.
“That’s the thing, Bo. Become a vampyre, and you won’t be yourself. Not ever again... I won’t do it.”
“You did it for Charlie,” Bo said, a note of jealousy in his voice.
“That’s different. Charlie was dying. It was the only way I could save him.
” Kitty pulled her hand from Bo’s grasp.
She couldn’t be that close to him now. He was full of passion, and touching him, she could feel his heart beating fast, could smell the blood rushing through his veins.
The temptation was too much. She turned away, walking toward the window.
But the sound of a click turned her back around.
Bo had opened a pocketknife and held it to his throat.
“You want it, don’t you? The blood?” he said. “I could feel you trembling...”
“Bo,” she scolded him. “Stop.”
“Charlie was dying,” he countered. “If I were dying...”
“Bo, stop.”
“No!” he shouted. “I won’t stop. Not until you turn me!”
She sighed. “Even if I did, we’ll never get to Charlie in time. The transition to become a vampyre takes days—or hours, at least. And the Skrathan are flying out now.”
“I’m a fast healer,” Bo said, a devilish smile on his face—as if he could sense her temptation.
Her desire. He pressed the blade harder against his neck and a thin red line appeared at the edge of the blade.
At the scent of it, Kitty felt herself getting wet, her nipples prickling hard inside her shirt.
“Bo,” she scolded him again, but the name came out breathy.
He pressed the blade harder against his neck. Blood ran down his skin now, a single, ruby rivulet. He took the blade away from his skin and held it out, its length shining with red.
“Taste it,” he commanded her.
“Bo, no!” she said, but she was already gravitating closer to him, her body betraying what her mind was telling it to do.
“TASTE IT!” Bo roared, the knife trembling in his hand.
Slowly, Kitty approached and ran her tongue along the flat of the blade.
The taste ran through her like electricity through a wire, igniting every nerve, awakening every cell from her toes to the little hairs on the back of her neck.
Her eyes zeroed in on the blood at his neck. And she was aware of her own heart, pounding just as fast as his.
"You’re playing a dangerous game,” she whispered, aware, as she spoke, that her fangs had grown so long they pressed against her lower lip.
“Then let’s play,” he whispered back.
At those words, the last of her resolve crumbled.
She shot forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and brought his neck to her lips.
The blood from the cut he’d made was already blooming, and as soon as her tongue found it, the flavor burst inside her like a firework, setting all her insides alight.
She ran her tongue up and down the slit of his cut, moaning as the hot, coppery liquid filled her mouth.
She reached down and found his cock, hard as a brick, and she squeezed it through his pants, eliciting a moan to match her own.
It was all she needed to make her completely feral.
She bared her teeth and bit into his neck, savoring the slight pop as her teeth punctured the skin.
She pushed him back, and he stumbled backward, falling onto the bed.
Her lips pressed against his neck, sucking as his heart pumped hot blood into her mouth.
Her hands found his shirt, and ripped in opposite directions, her vampyre strength tearing the fabric from his body.
At the same time, he pulled her dress up and over her head.
She straddled him and felt his cock against her ass, hard and ready through his pants.
She wanted it, but she wanted more blood first. Her lips traced down his chest to a nipple.
She bit, puncturing it, and sucked as he groaned.
Then she drifted lower, to his belly. She bit him there, too, letting the blood pool on his abs then lapping it up like a hungry cat, smearing it across his skin with her tongue while he groaned.
She went lower, undoing his pants.
With trembling hands, she took his cock out and ran a hand up and down it.
Gentle. Teasing. Its veins stood out, deliciously plump, its girth so full her small hand barely fit around it.
She stroked it, making it harder still, then traced her lips over it gently, feeling in the slick moistness at the tip how turned on he was, how close to coming already.
But she wouldn’t let him. Not yet. Instead, she opened her mouth and nicked the plump crown with one of her fangs, then took the bloody head in her mouth.
She sucked, savoring the delicious coppery goodness, mixed with the fluid that was already seeping out of him ever so slightly.
She took him out of her mouth and looked up at his face.
“Are you sure you want this?” she asked.
“Yes,” he growled.
“Are you sure you can handle this?” she pressed.
“Yes,” he said again, with such conviction that she didn’t doubt him.
Still… could she really do it? Could she condemn this sweet, kind, quiet man to the hell she’d endured for the past year—a hell he claimed to want, but couldn’t possibly understand?
The truth was, she wanted to turn him. It was lonely, being a vampyre. And she liked him. The idea of having a man like him around—forever—gave her a fluttery feeling inside. A feeling of excitement and hope.
But it was precisely because he was such a good guy that she couldn’t do that to him.
She was a bad girl, maybe. But she wasn’t that bad.
She couldn’t turn him.
But she’d try like hell to make it up to him…
She crawled back up his body, pulling her panties down as she went, moving up until his throbbing tip was at her entrance.
She brought her blood smeared mouth to his ear. “I’m going to fuck you now,” she whispered.
Slowly, slowly, she sat down into him.
A snarl grated from the back of his throat.
Pleasure filled her, radiating like heat from a flame.
She sank down until he was all the way in her.
And his hands found her hips and pulled her down, pushing himself deeper into her still, as deep as he could go.
A little sound came from the back of her throat, faint as a purr.
And she began moving. Slow. Inexorable. Up. Down. Up. Down.
His hands reached up and found her breasts, gentle fingers feathering over her nipples, making her back arch with pleasure, but she took his wrists and pinned him back down to the bed. Her lips found the wound at his neck once again.
“Oh, god,” he whispered. “It hurts. But it feels so good. It—it—”
She brought her mouth to his, kissing him. Biting his lower lip. Sucking it, tasting the blood.
“Shut the fuck up and take it,” she said, giving a twist of her hips that left his mouth open in a silent scream.
She could feel his blood in her pussy, too, from the bites she’d given him.
It felt like heat. Like pure ecstasy, stoking her pleasure to heights it had never reached before.
She moved faster, so wet that everything felt slick, her whole body shaking now, her nipples so hard they hurt, her body awash with gooseflesh.
Deeper. Harder. God, he was so thick. So hard. His taste. His blood, like fire.
He was arching his back against the bed now, his mouth open in a silent scream.
“Is it happening? Are you turning me?” he gasped.
“No…” she said, breathless. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Do it.”
“No.”
“Kitty, please.”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“Kitty.”
“No.”
All the time she kept moving, swiveling her hips, feeling herself rising slowly toward climax. Now, he grabbed her with a snarl and rolled her onto her back.
“Change me, goddamn it.”
“No, Bo.”
He fucked her harder.
“Don’t make me beg you!”
Her mouth was open now, her lower lip trembling.
“I… I’m coming,” she whispered. “Oh god.”
She tried to touch his face, but it was his turn to grab her arm.
He pinned both her wrists down over her head with one hand.
With the other hand, he grabbed her ass and fucked her harder.
Long, forceful strokes that shoved her hips down into the bed.
A beautiful violence. A fire, igniting. And she… she…
She screamed as she came.
She felt him let loose inside her. The throbbing.
The sudden, slickness of his seed filling her.
Then she was coming, again, too. A wave washing over her, spasming in time with her heartbeat, the pleasure made even more powerful by the euphoria of the blood.
She let it wrack her again and again, until she was left gasping. Ragged, slick with sweat.
“Oh God,” she whispered. “Oh fuck.”
Bo was still inside her. His face hovered inches from hers, his lips so close they almost touched hers. “Change me,” he said again. “Please.”
She touched his face tenderly, as if she were the blind one, feeling him, trying to see him with her fingers.
“No,” she whispered, at the edge of tears, suddenly.
The vulnerability left Bo’s face, then.
His sensuous lips became a stiff line. His brow furrowed. With a flex of his muscular shoulders, he pushed himself up and out of the bed, taking the blanket with him. He wrapped it around himself as he strode toward the door.
“Bo—wait—” she said.
His only answer was the slam of the door as he stormed out of the room.