Chapter 32
32
W hen my eyes fluttered open, I was lying on soft grass, looking up at the starry night sky.
How did I end up outside?
The pain was gone, but so was everything else. I didn’t feel anything as I lay there, empty. I was like a void waiting to be filled, but with what, I wasn’t sure.
Suddenly, the world around me came alive, bright, and overwhelming, enveloping me in sounds, smells, and sensations overpowering with their intensity. Millions of blades of grass tickled my oversensitive skin, and my ears picked up hundreds of sounds. A light breeze stirred the individual strands of my hair that seemed to tingle, brushing my bare shoulders. Scents surrounded me with the most tantalizing one teasing me from somewhere up close.
“Sophie?” came Henry’s deep voice from my left.
When I turned my head, I found him lying beside me. The silvery glow from the stars above poured over his near-perfect features, and I’d never seen anything so beautiful. He was stunning, and suddenly, I didn’t feel empty anymore as intense lust rolled through me. I wanted him, and I was going to take what I wanted. In the blink of an eye, I was on top of him, having moved faster than I ever had before. My dress rode up as I straddled him, ripping his shirt before dragging my fingers down his bare chest.
“Sophie…” he warned in a strained voice.
I didn’t heed his warning as my hands glided over his body, tracing the defined lines of his stomach to his hips and then lower still until I freed him from his pants. A harsh groan left him, and his body jerked when my fingers brushed the thick hardness. His head fell back against the grass as I tightened my grip before drawing my hand up and down his length. The rush of power I felt at being in control was thrilling. I reveled in it, in awe of how much my touch affected him as his large body shook underneath me. I wanted to keep touching him, but I was starved for him. Eyes drifting halfway closed, I lifted my hips and lowered myself on him, feeling him easing through my wetness…
I came to with a sharp gasp, my chest rising and falling rapidly as my eyes flew open, darting around the room. I found Henry’s deep-blue gaze almost immediately, and my breathing evened out as I stared at him.
Just a dream, I thought as my racing heart and pulse began to slow.
I wasn’t outside under the stars. I was still in Henry’s bedroom, in his bed, and he was sitting in the chair, watching me, his eyes haunted.
“How are you feeling?” he asked low, and there was so much sorrow in his voice.
He was slumped in the chair, looking dejected as if he’d done something terrible. His dark hair was disheveled, tumbling across his forehead as tension bracketed the corners of his mouth.
“Thirsty,” I breathed, my throat so parched it felt like I’d swallowed knives.
My entire body felt dry and achy, as if I were missing something essential, something I needed to survive. There was a gnawing, painful hollowness inside me.
Henry pulled out a bag of blood from the small ice chest sitting by the chair, and the moment my gaze latched on to it, I bared my fangs with a hiss.
My fangs? Lifting a shaking hand to my mouth, I ran my fingertips over the sharp points and winced. My fangs ached, too. They throbbed as the overwhelming urge to sink them into something rose, riding me hard.
“Here,” Henry said quietly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed and handing me the bag.
I immediately ripped it open, pouring its contents into my mouth. The blood spilled down my chest, running down my chin as I took a few generous gulps. It helped to soothe my dry throat, but the relief was fleeting, and, with a snarl, I tossed the half-empty bag to the side, splashing the bed and the floor with crimson. That was not what I needed. It was blood, yes, but it was cold and stale. I needed warm, fresh blood. I would do anything for it.
“I need…” I whimpered, unsure how to put this primal urge inside me into words.
“I know,” Henry said gently, and his eyes softened as he looked at me.
When he bared his fangs, lifting his wrist to his mouth, I stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“I need…” I tried again, my words rough and guttural.
I needed to be the one to bite him, to sink my fangs into his wrist, breaking the skin and spilling the blood.
Understanding washed over Henry’s features, and with a small nod, he brought his wrist to my lips. Our gazes locked, and a heartbeat later, my fangs pierced his skin. My eyes fluttered closed as a low, rumbling sound came from deep within my throat. Nothing had ever felt so good, so right. Clutching his wrist with my hands, I closed my mouth over the wounds my fangs had created and drew in some of his blood, moaning as it hit my tongue. I shuddered at the sweet taste as instinct took over, urging me to take long, hungry pulls, filling myself with the rich, lush essence.
My body was coming alive with each deep draw as liquid fire rushed through my veins, making me hunger for more than just blood. Desire surged, overriding everything else as a wave of intense arousal rolled through me. My eyes snapped open, meeting Henry’s deep-blue gaze. His pupils were expanding as he stared at me, and his lips parted on a sharp inhale when I pressed his wrist more fully to my mouth. Still drinking greedily, I planted one hand on his chest and pushed with shocking strength until his back hit the mattress.
“Sophie,” he rasped, tensing as I climbed on top of him.
Straddling him, I tilted my hips until I felt him hard against my core. A raw moan escaped me, muffled by his wrist.
“Sophie,” he said roughly. “You need to stop.”
Stop? I wasn’t going to stop. I was going to take what I wanted, just like I had in my dream.
I rolled my hips against him, and we both groaned as his hardness pressed into my softness.
“That’s enough,” Henry growled, his hand fisting in my hair.
He went to pull me away from his wrist, but I held on tight, refusing to give up the blood. He pulled harder, and with a snarl, I let go, but I wasn’t finished with him yet.
Sitting up, I ripped open his shirt, dragging my fingers down his chest, much like I had in my dream. My breath caught when I reached the hardness straining through his pants.
“Don’t,” Henry grunted, catching my wrists. “Please. You are not yourself,” he begged.
He begged , and that did something to me. Even through the lust-infused haze of my mind, I suddenly knew what I was doing was wrong. He didn’t want this, and I was forcing myself on him. Terrified, I scrambled off him, throwing myself to the other end of the bed. I wasn’t trying to get away from him, but from the feral version of myself that had just been on top of him, thinking she could just take what she wanted. A sorrowful, whimpering sound escaped me as I looked down at myself. I was covered in blood, and my nails had elongated into sharp, pointed claws.
“I’m a monster,” I rasped, bringing my trembling hands up to clasp my head.
Henry hesitated for only a moment before he swiftly sat up, moving closer to me on the bed. He gathered me in his lap, cradling me against his chest, which didn’t feel cool to my touch anymore.
“It’s okay,” he whispered as a ragged sob escaped me. “I’ve got you.”
At first, there was pain—the kind that made you wish you were dead. It flared in the pit of my stomach before spreading like wildfire to the rest of my body, saturating my every pore through the ends of my hair and to the tips of my fingers and toes. Then, came the hunger. Or maybe the hunger was first. I wasn’t sure as I lay there in the pool of darkness. It enveloped me in velvet blackness, lapping at my skin until it rose enough to swallow me whole, submerging me in the waters of unending thirst.
“You know what you need to do to make it stop,” the darkness whispered. “Give in.”
Give in… I couldn’t give in, not yet. There was something important I needed to do. It niggled in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t focus on anything else besides the roar of hunger in my ears.
I smelled it then. Blood. It was the most tantalizing scent, and my heart sped up in my chest. The blood smelled divine, but it was mixed with something else, fresh and woodsy. I felt my brows knit, the muscles of my face stiff and difficult to manipulate, as I tried to open my eyes. I needed to wake up so I could find the source of the alluring scent. My eyelids felt heavy as I slowly pried my lashes apart. My nostrils flared, and I twisted my head to the source of the smell, immediately zeroing in on it. On him. A man sat in the chair next to where I lay. He looked tired, rubbing his eyes with a heavy sigh. His hand stilled on his face before he lowered it slowly, his deep-blue gaze locking on mine.
“Sophie?” he asked in a deep voice that sent a ripple of shivers through me.
Sophie? The name sounded familiar, and I tried to focus on it to figure out what it meant, but I couldn’t concentrate long enough as a painful wave of hunger rolled through me.
A groan left me as my muscles spasmed, arching me off the bed. Everything hurt, bringing tears to my eyes. I’d never known pain like this. I would give anything to make it stop. Panting, I focused on the man in the chair, who looked concerned but also wary. My vision sharpened on him, dropping to his neck, where I could see his pulse thrumming just below the surface of his skin.
I didn’t know I’d moved until the man’s eyes widened, and I realized I was crouched on the bed, my legs tucked under me, my dress pooling around me.
The man leaned forward, gripping the arms of the chair, but before he could rise to his feet, I shot off the bed, launching myself at him. He was fast, catching my wrists and slamming me back down on the mattress.
“Sophie,” he rasped, getting in my face.
That name again. I didn’t know what it meant. All I knew was hunger as it stretched my skin over my flesh and bones, threatening to tear me apart. My lips peeled back, and I bared my fangs before snapping at the man’s throat, trying to get to the blood. He backed away but didn’t let go of my wrists. I pushed up, trying to throw him off me. He grunted but didn’t budge. Several minutes passed as I thrashed under him until finally giving up.
“It hurts,” I whispered, my voice sounding foreign to my ears.
The man’s eyes softened.
“I know,” he said low. “I will give you some blood. It’s in the chest by the chair, but I need you to lay still and don’t move, okay?”
I nodded, swallowing thickly.
The man eyed me warily as he slowly pulled away. I didn’t move a muscle as I lay there, waiting for him to release me. The moment he let go of my wrists, I bolted upright, my mouth stretching wide as I went for his throat.
The man cursed, clasping my head. He swiftly twisted my neck, and a loud crack echoed before everything went dark.
The sound of my name pulled me from the darkness. I was on my back, and Henry was hovering over me, staring down at me, his brows pinched. His features were taut as his eyes searched mine.
“Sophie?” he whispered.
I swallowed and realized his hand was pressing on my throat. Slowly, I brought my hands up and wrapped them around his wrist, pulling on it gently. He alleviated the pressure but didn’t let go of me completely.
“Do you know who you are and what you’re doing here? Do you remember why I turned you?” he asked.
Turn me? So, he was the one responsible for the sinister hunger, for turning me into this .
A low growl rumbled from deep within my throat as my nails elongated into claws, digging into Henry’s wrist. His grip on my throat tightened.
“Calm down,” he said in a warning tone.
It was in my best interest to comply, I realized, as a pang of hunger ripped through me. I needed to feed, and he could give me what I needed.
My eyes locked on his, I forced my muscles to relax as my claws retracted, and I let go of his wrist.
“Good,” he said low, visibly impressed by my display of control. “I will let go of your throat and get the blood from the cooler,” he paused as if to let what he’d just said sink in. “Don’t. Move,” he added, enunciating each word.
When I nodded, he let go of my throat but didn’t move his hand away, letting it hover above my neck in case I decided to lash out. Several seconds later, when I didn’t, he pulled away and rose from the bed.
Turning away from me, he walked to the chest, bending down to retrieve a bag of blood. The moment I saw the red liquid, the hunger seized me, and my body moved of its own accord. In an instant, I was crouched on the bed, my fangs bared. Henry tensed with his back still to me before slowly turning around.
“Do you remember what happened last time?” he asked, and I winced at the phantom pain in my neck—he’d broken it when I’d tried to bite him. “I will give you this blood,” he said, holding up the bag in one hand. “But you have to behave.” His eyes were soft as he whispered, “Please, I don’t want to have to hurt you again.”
Hurt me? I won’t let him hurt me, I will hurt him, I thought as my body jerked.
I leaned forward as if pulled by an invisible string toward him. The desire to rip out his throat, spilling the blood, overwhelmed me, terrifying in its intensity.
You’re a monster, the thought flashed through my mind.
With a snarl, I backed away, scrambling off the bed and tucking myself in the other corner of the room. Tears glided down my cheeks as I slid to the floor, curling into a ball. I couldn’t live with myself, with what I had become, but I couldn’t run away from it, either. This was my new reality. I felt utterly alone, trapped in this body that didn’t feel like my own, with darkness whispering things in my head.
Suddenly, I was scooped up and pulled to Henry’s hard chest. He held me close, one hand on my knees and the other one stroking my hair.
I focused on the beating of his heart as sobs racked me for what felt like forever until they eventually slowed down.
“Here,” Henry whispered, opening the bag of blood and bringing it to my lips.
It didn’t smell as pleasant as the blood flowing through his veins, but it was blood nonetheless, so I closed my mouth around the opening and took a few gulps. A sigh of contentment left me as I drank, my eyes drifting closed. Suddenly, they snapped open and darted to the bedroom door as the darkness reared its head.
Escape, it whispered. You can escape him and this room and find humans to sink your fangs into.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Henry tensed next to me, his hand clasping the back of my neck.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said roughly, following my gaze to the door. “Please,” he whispered against my temple, “I need you to fight the bloodlust.”
Tears blurred my vision as I dragged my gaze from the door and turned to him.
“Help me,” I begged, my voice hoarse.
I’d never felt this weak in my life. The darkness inside me was winning; I could feel it. I couldn’t stop it from spreading, eating up my insides until it filled my heart.
A rough exhale left Henry as his hold on the back of my neck relaxed. He cupped my cheek with his other hand as a soft smile touched his lips.
“Let me tell you a story,” he said, “about a girl who was so brave she chose to become something she loathed for a chance to save her people.”