Chapter 18 #2
He brings his wrist to my mouth. I turn my head in a last attempt to refuse because, hello, this is a lot, but my strength is paper-thin and the big vampire is about a thousand times stronger than me.
He presses his bleeding wrist to my mouth, forcing my lips to part…
and then the tiniest taste hits my tongue.
I brace for the coppery, metallic tang of blood. But what I get is completely different.
Creamy sweetness like salted caramel flows over my tongue. And with it comes warmth, flooding through me.
A startled sound comes from my lips. I swallow instinctively and then lap up some more, because my body has clearly decided to betray me. I drink a little more, loving the taste against my will, before he finally pulls his wrist away.
“Well?” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Was it really so bad?”
“It…it doesn’t taste like I thought it would. I…I can’t…” I fumble, looking for words. “What the Hell? Why is it actually good?”
“Because you are meant for me and I am meant for you.” His voice goes softer…deeper. “My lovely one. My Curvy Queen.”
I stare up at him.
“You have got to stop calling me that.”
He shrugs those impossibly broad shoulders again.
“It is what you are.”
“Everyone keeps saying that,” I mutter, frowning. “Whistler said it. Now you are too.”
“Because you are, indeed, as he and I have both called you—a Curvy Queen. One blessed with abundant curves,” he says patiently.
I give him a look.
“Great. So is there a pamphlet I can read that explains it? Maybe, ‘So You’ve been Abducted to the Shadow Realm and discovered You’re a Curvy Queen: Ten Things to Expect’?”
“If you want one, I’ll commission it.” He doesn’t even blink.
“Oh my God.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Explain it—slowly. Like I’m five. Why is everyone calling me ‘Curvy Queen’ and what exactly are the implications tied to that title?”
“In our world,” Lucian says, “A human woman with abundant curves is rare. Prized. Your bodies carry more heat…more blood…more magic…more potential. Some few—very few of the Curvy Queens—also carry something else. The Sanguis Vita—a rare element which can strengthen and cure those of my kind—the Thirstborn.”
Okay, now I get it. I feel my heart drop a little—I honestly thought he liked me because of me. But no—he just wants me because I’m fat.
“So you want me because I’m plus-sized,” I say flatly. “Because fat girls make better juice.”
His eyes flash, and not with hunger. I see irritation in those red pupils.
“Don’t insult yourself, Julia. You are curvy—fucking beautiful. And yes—your blood carries the cure mine needs. I searched for you. I would have crossed a thousand worlds to get to you or to bring you to me.”
“There it is, again” I say, crossing my arms over my breasts. “You just want me for my blood.”
“I want you for you,” he says, and the way he looks at me—his eyes half-lidded with lust—makes me shiver.
“But I won’t lie. I need what only you can give.
The Sanguis Vita strengthens when you are warmed and pleasured.
Drinking from you is the only way to break the family curse my father called down upon us. ”
“Fantastic.” I fling a hand at the chandelier. “So I’m here to be your personal nurse and blood bag.”
He frowns.
“You are a Queen—my Queen.”
“Don’t do that,” I say, and to my horror I can feel tears pricking behind my eyes. “Don’t pretty it up. You can call me a ‘Queen” all you want but if you won’t let me leave, what I am is your prisoner.”
He starts to protest but I cut him off.
“Look, I’m tired. I’m cold. I’m naked in a bathroom that looks like Versailles and you keep saying I’m yours and I don’t even know if my cat ate his dinner. I miss him and I miss my crappy little apartment and my friends and my home!”
“It’s natural to feel some homesickness at first, my lovely one. But don’t worry—it will pass as we get to know each other.”
He puts the little golden knife back in his pocket—I notice that the wound on his wrist is already healed—and picks up the sponge again.
He begins to wash me once more and this time he goes slow.
He’s careful where the slime clings in delicate places, as if I’m made of fine china.
I can’t help thinking that he has such big hands, but it’s clear he knows how to handle fragile things.
I try to hold on to my homesickness and my anger but as he washes me, I feel them slipping away. For some reason, things are different. I’m warmer now, for one thing—his blood really worked, I guess. But I feel other differences in my body too.
And then he puts down the sponge and starts using his hands, stroking and rubbing…caressing my bare skin. I know I should protest, but for some reason I don’t. Heat coils low in my belly, spreading outward like someone lit a fuse under my skin. Every nerve feels alive, buzzing.
His big warm hand massages my shoulder and it’s not just cleaning—it’s a caress. My nipples are so tight they almost hurt. I press my thighs together tightly under the water, trying to hide the sudden ache blooming there.
Oh God, what’s wrong with me? Does this have to do with that sip I took of his blood? I shift restlessly and the water laps at the sides of the tub.
“Easy, little one,” Lucian murmurs, his voice a soft growl and his eyes lazy with lust. His hand lingers on my arm, longer than necessary, his thumb brushing the inside of my elbow. “You feel it, don’t you?”
I swallow hard. My voice comes out rough.
“Feel what exactly?”
“The Blood-Bond,” he says simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “My blood has awakened yours. It sharpens sensation. Turns warmth into fire…pleasure into rapture.”
Oh my God, I was right—it was blood. It’s acting on me like…like Vampire Viagra. Great—just great.
“I didn’t sign up for this,” I say, but my body’s betraying me yet again. My head tips back as his fingers trail lower…across my collarbone…down between my breasts.
His hand is large and warm and he seems to be an expert on how to touch me—seriously he could teach a few of my ex-boyfriends a lesson.
He cups one breast as if he’s simply making sure I’m clean, but then his thumb brushes over my nipple.
A lightning bolt shoots through me and I gasp at the intense pleasure.
“So sensitive,” he murmurs, almost to himself. He strokes again, slower, more deliberate, until my right peak is tight and aching. “Beautiful.”
I’m moaning as his gentle touch sends sparks of pleasure through my whole body, but I know I can’t keep giving in this way.
I grab his wrist under the water.
“Stop! Don’t…don’t do that.” But my voice doesn’t sound convincing, not even to me.
Lucian leans closer, his breath hot at my ear.
“Don’t lie to me, lovely one. Your body craves me as surely as I crave you. You long for my touch on your skin. You want to let me suck these luscious nipples.” He squeezes briefly, making me gasp. “You want to spread your thighs and let me taste that sweet little pussy.”
My pulse pounds. The bastard’s right. I do crave more, though every part of my brain is screaming at me to shove him away. Because hello—he’s the enemy! He had me abducted and he won’t let me go! So why am I reacting like this?
I don’t know, but I can’t seem to stop.
Lucian seems perfectly happy to take advantage of my inability to stop giving in to my body’s cravings for him. He leans closer until his lips brush my shoulder…then the sensitive side of my neck.
I freeze—is he going to do it? Is he going to bite me now?
But instead, his lips just linger at my pulse, warm and sweet as he presses kisses up and down along my vulnerable throat, sending shivers racing down my spine.
Oh God, why can’t I stop him? I can’t remember the last time I was this hot—this needy. My pussy is so wet and ready I feel molten from the waist down and all he’s done is kiss my neck and tease one of my nipples a little. When did I turn into such a cheap date?
The heat at my core spirals tighter, my body clenching with need. I hate myself for it but I can’t seem to help it.
“This is insane,” I moan. “I shouldn’t want this. You’re—you’re some kind of vampire mob boss, and I’m… I’m just—”
“My Queen,” he cuts in softly, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes glow faintly red. I see hunger blazing there, but his voice is steady… controlled. “You are mine, Julia. And when you are ready, I will prove to you that surrender can be bliss.”
I should snap at him. I should call him out for giving me his blood without telling me it’s some kind of aphrodisiac. Instead, my thighs press together again under the water, heat building so fast inside it makes me dizzy.
I glare at him, desperate to cover my reaction.
“You dosed me. That’s the only reason I’m feeling this way. It’s just whatever’s in your blood messing with my head.”
He chuckles darkly.
“My blood caused nothing you weren’t already capable of feeling. It only revealed the truth.” His thumb strokes once more over my nipple, making my back arch despite myself. Then, with a low growl, he pushes away, gripping the edge of the tub as if the restraint takes all his strength.
The sudden absence makes me shiver. Relief and disappointment war inside me.
Lucian draws a slow breath, the muscles in his jaw tight.
“Rest now,” he says finally. “Your body needs time to recover. But soon, little one…soon, I’ll show you what it truly means to be mine.”
I sink lower into the steaming water, my heart hammering, my skin still tingling everywhere he touched me.
And I can’t help thinking that if this really is a dream…God help me, I don’t know if I want to wake up.
Lucian drains the tub one more time, then lifts me out of it like I weigh nothing.
He sets me on my feet and starts drying me all over. Then he tosses the damp towel away and gets another one. The towel he wraps me in is enormous and hot from some hidden warmer—it swallows me in softness.
It comes to me suddenly that—for the first time in hours—I’m not completely naked. I didn’t realize how much I missed the feeling of being covered until I have it again and my eyes start stinging for no good reason.
“Are you all right, lovely one?” Lucian gives me a worried look. “Let me carry you to the bedchamber.”
“No,” I say, sniffing and refusing to cry. “Thanks but I’m fine now—I can walk.”
I take one step…and the world tilts. My knees feel like Jell-O, and I start to go over.
Lucian sweeps me up before gravity can drag me down. One arm under my knees, the other at my back, he cradles me against him. I get that dark, spicy scent again, plus the steady thud of his heart when my cheek presses against his chest.
“There now—you’re safe,” he rumbles, and his words seem to vibrate my entire body.
“I just want to go home,” I whisper, looking up at him. “Back to my apartment…back to Mr. Mittens. Back to rent and spreadsheets and mediocre coffee and office drama and Book Club.”
He meets my gaze as he carries me toward an arched doorway draped with velvet. His eyes are cool storm-gray again—no red. I see nothing but resolve in his steady gaze.
“You can leave the bath, lovely one,” he says softly. “But you cannot leave the Crimson Spires.”
My stomach sinks.
“Lucian—”
“You are mine now. Mine.” There’s no heat in his voice—no drama. Just absolute certainty. “You belong to me—I will not let you go.”
I shut my eyes because the room is spinning and also because if I look at him I might do something stupid, like believe him.
Or worse—want to.