Chapter 25 #2
He thinks for a moment, then leans in close, brushing his lips against my ear. “No. I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”
I press my eyes shut, teetering between abject rage and undeniable need. He may not be able to glamour me like he had Henrietta, but he sure as fuck has a hold over me, and I don’t know what to make of it.
“So you lied,” I say, shoving him against the chest, trying to shake free from his hold.
His grip tightens. “I said what I needed to say in the moment.”
“You pig.”
“I’m at the top of the food chain, Edie. I’m the furthest from a pig a man can get.”
“So what, you just keep me here indefinitely until I’m old and withered, then discard me when you’re done?”
This time when I tug my arm from his grasp, he lets me go.
And then the truth of everything that’s passed between us hits me. He’s done this before. He’s kept someone else prisoner. Basilia. Except she killed herself before he could.
“You bastard. That’s what you did to Basilia, didn’t you?”
“Edie, it’s not what you think. That was different.”
He takes another step towards me, and I turn on my heel and run, sprinting towards the door. Of course, he gets there first, blocking my path. “You can’t escape. There’s nowhere to go.”
“Get out of my way,” I snarl, rage knotting my fists as I slam them against his chest.
He shakes his head, pain etched in his features as he grips my wrists. "I am who I am because of her."
“What?”
“She’s the reason I’m a vampire. She’s the reason I’m cursed.” He lets my wrists go and drags a hand through his hair.
“Basilia was a vampire?”
“No, she was my wife. She was the woman I hurt, and she was someone who came from a long line of witches.”
“Witches?” I scoff, my disbelief sharp as I shake my head.
“I’m a vampire, Edie. Is it so hard to believe that witches exist?”
“Of course I know they existed, but I always thought most women accused of witchcraft were, in fact, healers, not wretched creatures from fairytales with the ability to curse people. Men feared those women who healed because of their own failings and prejudice. It’s hard to imagine anyone is capable of that kind of magic. ”
“And yet here I stand,” he says, sighing. “I didn’t know about Basilia’s heritage. Still, deep down, I did know I was hurting her. I was too self-centred, too cruel to care or to stop. In revenge, she cursed me, killing herself in the process. She died because of me. I have to live with that.”
“And now you want to keep me prisoner, too? You’re willing to leave me to the same fate?”
“I don’t want—” he frowns, his teeth retracting, the lines around his eyes deepening with pain.
“You don’t, what?”
“I will never do to you what I did to Basilia. I won’t betray you that way, but you have to understand. I can’t let you go.”
“You can. You can step aside and let me leave.”
“No.” He takes a step towards me, his knuckles grazing my cheek. His touch is tender, disarming, and for a moment I want to lean in, to let him soothe me. “You’re not leaving, Edie. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. You’re mine.”
Then he presses his lips against my forehead, tenderly, with affection, and for a moment I believe maybe Viktor was right, that maybe he’ll change his mind and let me go.
That changes the second he swoops down and lifts me off my feet, carrying me across his chest.
I gasp, my fingers curling into his hoodie.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t fight me,” he replies, his grip tightening.
“Dorian, whatever it is you’re about to do, don’t.” I struggle in his hold, my scream cut off as he slams his lips against mine.
His kiss isn’t tender this time, it’s hard, unyielding, possessive, but I refuse to melt into his hold no matter how much my body is screaming at me to do so.
By the time I have the wherewithal to pull away from his kiss, he’s laying me down on the bed, his body lowering over mine.
I feel his cock, rigid between us, and it’s all I can do not to moan with want, my body betraying me.
“Don’t fight this,” he repeats, pinning my arms above my head.
“If you rape me, I’ll never forgive you,” I seethe, my heart pounding so hard I fear it might shatter my rib cage.
He flinches. “Rape you? Fuck, Edie. I don’t want to rape you. You have to know that isn’t who I am.”
“I don’t want you to drink my blood either,” I yell, bucking my hips beneath him.
“I’ve already fed,” he says, my attempts to shove him off me failing.
“Then what are you doing?” I still beneath him as he adjusts his position, straddling my hips with his thighs and gripping both of my wrists with one of his hands. With his free hand, he unbuckles the belt at his waist, tugging it free.
“This will be pleasurable. Submit to me.”
“What will?” I whisper as he ties the belt around my wrists, securing my hands to the headboard, my body following his command even though part of me is enraged at his dominance.
This is the first time I’ve truly felt the power of it, and I’m struggling with my desire to submit to him.
The truth is, I’m caught between unbelievable lust, lingering dread, and intense anger.
Dorian reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a delicate silver chain, two silver loops attached to each end.
“This is my gift to you, Edie. What I’m about to do isn’t just a piercing, it is a declaration to all of my clan that you are mine.
Humans slip on rings, we choose intimate piercings. ”
“Wait, are you going to—”
My question is cut off when he shoves up my top, revealing my breasts. I regret not putting on a bra, but in my haste to leave my home with Henrietta earlier, I didn’t bother. Dorian opens his mouth, his fangs dropping, and goosebumps scatter over my skin as I realise what he’s about to do.
“This will sting at first,” he says, and before I can even protest, he grasps my breast in his hand, curls over me, and pierces my nipple with his fang.
A cry releases from my lips, my back arching from the sharp sting that soon makes way for pleasure as he pulls his fang from my flesh and twirls his tongue around my nipple. I press my eyes shut, holding in a moan as his saliva enters my bloodstream, a soothing warmth flooding through me.
“Shh,” he whispers, pressing gentle kisses against my chest. “I’ve got you.”
With trembling hands, he unlatches the silver ring, threading it through the hole he made. “Are you okay?” he asks, his fingers trailing between my breasts.
“I’m… I don’t know,” I whisper, all the fight within me evaporating beneath the pleasure humming through my body. Dorian lifts his finger to his mouth, piercing the pad of his thumb. A spot of blood wells on the tip, and he spreads it over my nipple. The pain disappears instantly.
“Your blood can heal?” I ask.
He nods. “It has the power to bring someone back to life, Edie. Of course it can heal.”
His fingers drift across my chest, then he gently cups my other breast. Our eyes lock, and in that charged silence, I surrender, not out of fear or submission, but because I sense a chance to touch the part of him, that is still human.
He told me this act is a claim for his kind, a promise as binding as a wedding band. That has to mean something.
“Do it,” I whisper.
Some of the tension seems to release from his shoulders as he leans over, piercing that nipple too. This time, when his fangs retract, he sucks my nipple into his mouth, laving his tongue over my flesh for a lot longer, and I know he’s allowing himself more than a taste of my blood.
“Dorian,” I moan, all my fear and hatred falling away momentarily as my body gives itself over to him. I’m under his spell, and if he doesn’t find it within himself to stop, we’re both doomed.
“You taste like fucking starlight,” he murmurs against my skin, releasing me.
“Starlight?”
“Yes. Your blood is the purest I’ve tasted. It’s fucking delicious. But I’ll only allow myself a taste. Nothing more. I refuse to hurt you again.”
His whole body is trembling now as he slides the other ring in place.
Then, piercing his finger once again, he heals the wound.
Gently, he fingers the chain, tugging on it.
The sensation of it pulling on my nipples sends a rush of pleasure straight to my clit.
My eyelids flutter shut, heat spreading across my chest and neck.
“Beautiful,” he whispers. “Mine.” Before I’ve even had the chance to respond, he unties my hands and climbs off the bed. “I have brought you some clothes. There is a shower through there,” he says, pointing to a door on the far side of the room. “Eat. I will return when dawn rises.”
With that, he leaves, and I’m left bereft, turned on, and utterly confused.