Chapter 22 #2
The human female squirmed. “Why can I not lie on my back this time?” she whined, trying to turn. I took her hips and forced her back onto her knees.
“Stay where I put you,” I growled.
She giggled, half drunk. “But, I’m tired of doing it this way.”
I was this close to ripping her throat out. “You’ll stay on your hands and knees. I don’t make love, I fuck. I don’t want to see your face when you come. I don’t want you seeing mine.”
She gave a little gasp. The desire for sex came less and less often as of late.
But I’d always done it this way. Eye-contact forged connections and connections formed attachments.
Attachments were lethal. My father’s lessons had worked after all.
I spread her thighs wide, taking in the sight of her pink flesh, the wetness pooling there, and planted myself deep, groaning.
It wouldn’t be enough this time. I’d need to bite her too, if I hoped to come.
I could hardly remember when sex alone brought release.
I grabbed her hips hard enough to bruise, and began driving her against my cock. The sound of slapping flesh had my balls tightening. Good. This was good.
Her moans filled the air, edged with the pain I created. I’d warned her I would be rough. She’d coyly accepted.
I waited until I felt her tightening around me, then struck, sinking my teeth in deep.
Using the power I’d honed over the centuries.
But this time, I didn’t fill her with pleasure as I drank, I filled her with pain.
Her moans turned to whimpers. Just enough pain—but not too much.
She came harder than ever, the heightened tase of her blood gushing into my mouth.
My cock hardened further, then spasmed, radiating pleasure up through the base of my spine. I growled into her skin.
It was a paltry finish, but a finish nonetheless.
I licked at the wound I’d made to heal it, then pulled out and said, “I tire of you. We’re done.”
And left.
I wrenched myself from Laurent’s memory to find sounds, shameless sounds, pouring from my lips.
I didn’t care if anyone heard me, if he heard me.
Because he’d said that he had, that he heard me each night as I fought the addiction, slipping my fingers between my legs to chase my pleasure.
What did it matter? I’d seen him fuck someone now. So that made us even.
The memories of his thrusting cock had more wetness gushing between my thighs. I didn’t even care that it was with another woman. I was too far gone.
I bit my lip but it didn’t stop the cry that slipped free.
I came on my hand, gasping for breath in the aftermath. Only then did I finally feel sated. I sighed, and a soft smile pulled at my lips. It was the most alive I’d felt in weeks.
Sleep swept me away after that, and the nightmares didn’t come.
The next morning, everything felt like a dream. The only proof was the robe tangled around me. The drops of Laurent’s blood on the fabric.
The thought made my stomach churn with shame. That I’d given in so easily. That I’d embraced my craving.
There would be no going back now.
I went through my morning routine, then changed into a pair of soft jeans and a cute summer top showing only a sliver of my tummy.
Vittorio swept in with my breakfast and his chipper, “Good morning, Miss Shaw.” He set the tray on the table and then looked at me. “Slept well, I trust?”
It’s what he always said. But this time, it felt like something more. Whatever. I shrugged in answer.
“When you’ve finished, Master Laurent wishes to see you in the conservatory.”
My hand tightened around the chair I’d been about to pull out. “He does?”
“Indeed. Take your time. Enjoy your breakfast.”
He disappeared leaving me with a slew of questions. How was I supposed to enjoy my breakfast now? I didn’t want to see Laurent.
I fretted, sipping my coffee. What would I say to him? How was I supposed to act around him?
My cheeks blazed as I thought back over everything. I’d thrown myself at him. Then I’d come back here and masturbated to the thought of him, to a memory of him with someone else. What the fuck was wrong with me?
I groaned, burying my forehead in my hands.
Oh, my God. I’d be plenty fine never seeing him again.
Ever. Something warm twisted in my chest. That was a lie.
I could still taste his blood on my tongue.
Still recall the feel of his muscled body pressed flush to my back.
The memory of his groan as I fed from him.
The possessive hand wrapped around me, splayed over my belly.
Heat curled in my core.
I looked over the breakfast Vittorio had prepared and attacked it. The omelette was done to perfection, with mushrooms, cheese, and bacon. I slurped down the entire kettle of coffee. Downed the toast, lathering it with extra jam.
I felt a little better after eating. The craving was gone, at least.
I stalled as long as I could, but eventually ran out of excuses. When I could avoid it no longer, I braced myself and descended to the first floor conservatory on the far side of the manor. I slipped inside. The calming smell of damp earth and plants swept over me.
A sound made me freeze. A tiny, high pitched yipping noise that came from somewhere out of sight.
My feet moved before my brain could catch up.
I walked through the rows of greenery and rounded the corner.
A tiny gasp fell from my lips. Laurent—all six foot four inches of his hulking form—sat hunched over on a blanket, toys scattered around, playing with a little golden ball of fluff.
No, not a ball of fluff. A puppy! Wearing a big pink bow around her neck.
My mouth dropped open and an embarrassing little squeal left my lips. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Laurent dwarfed the tiny animal. She tumbled around him, yipping and lunging to give him little nips paired with puppy growls.
There wasn’t a shred of fear in her behavior.
If anything, she loved her new friend. Laurent kept his hands in motion, playing with her while watching me.
His eyes were riveted to my face, to my expression.
“Where… Where did… Is that…?”
“Hello, Miss Shaw. It’s a puppy, yes. I got her for you. Do you like her?” And then something happened to his face. He smiled—he actually smiled. I caught sight of perfect teeth and dimples.
“For…me?” I cleared my throat, then tried to form more words, but couldn’t seem to function.
He huffed, and amusement danced in his eyes. “Would you like to hold her?”
A little squeak that could only be interpreted as a yes broke from my throat. I closed the distance, collapsing onto my knees. For the first time, I had no qualms about getting close to Laurent. I only had eyes for the puppy.
“Come and meet your new momma,” Laurent cooed. Something hot dropped into my belly at the sound of his voice. The way he said those words. I ignored it, scooping up the little bundle.
“Oh, my God,” I whined, cradling her to my chest. She squirmed against me, then started biting at my hair. I laughed. “I love her already,” I announced to no one in particular, looking down at the little golden retriever. “I love you all ready, you darling, darling thing.”
Laurent shifted, coming onto his knees. He held a toy out for her, moving in close to us.
I didn’t flinch as he leaned against me, waving the toy in front of the puppy’s face, clicking his tongue to get her attention.
She yipped at it, trying to detangle her little teeth from my hair so she could snatch the toy.
His free hand reached around to help her and I stilled, but not with fear. Even though he was wrapped around me.
Seeing Laurent act like this was a kick to my ovaries.
It didn’t feel real. I’d seen him rip out hearts.
Seen memories of him destroy creatures I didn’t even have names for.
Seen him feed from humans. Seen him annihilate things with his brute strength.
Nothing prepared me for the sight of him on his knees, delicately tempting a little puppy to play.
Laurent’s body shifted against my arm as he let out a huff. “She’s playful, this one.”
“I… She’s… Is she really mine?” My voice cracked. I didn’t care. I turned to look at him, our faces inches apart. I could see the silver of his irises nearly glowing with amusement.
“If you want her.” There was something almost nervous in his expression, like my answer actually mattered to him.
A breath burst from my chest because of course I wanted her. I’d dreamt of having my own pet growing up, a companion that would love me no matter what. The only reason I didn’t have one now was because the apartment complex didn’t allow them.
“Is this a ploy to keep me here?”
Laurent sat back on his heels, muscular thighs filling out jeans. “What if I said yes? Is it working?”
I barked a laugh. Never in a million years would I admit that after last night, after tasting his blood, I might have stayed for just that. But now he’d given me yet another reason. Sill, I said, “I want my life back, Laurent.”
“And you will have it, Miss Shaw. I will give you everything you want and more, if only you let me.”
My mouth went dry. “What’s the catch? Is this your way of trying to weasel me into giving you my blood?”
His throat bobbed. I caught his quick gaze as it dropped to the pulse at my neck. “It calls to me like nothing ever has… Like no amplifier ever has.” His voice was rough like gravel. He gave his head a tiny little shake. “No, Miss Shaw, it’s my way of…atoning for my sins.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them.”
“Even that one where you swept into a mid-century modern seaside villa and ripped the throats out of every person inside?”
He hadn’t been sorry about it. There’d been no feelings of remorse as he’d slaughtered every human within. I’d felt everything he’d felt, when I went through the memory. It was one of the more recent ones, crisp and vibrant. Perhaps from the sixties or seventies.
I hadn’t thought it was possible for Laurent to pale, but he lost all color.
“I’ve been wondering which ones were thrust upon you.
” He blinked, eyes darting down to the puppy, then back.
He licked his lips. I couldn’t help but catch the motion, my gaze lingering over it.
Over the shape of his mouth. “You don’t have to look at them,” he had the audacity to say. “The memories.”
“I’ve looked at all of them, Laurent, many times.”
He deflated, then sat back onto the blanket, putting space between us. His next words were harsher. “You know what I am, Miss Shaw.”
“Thank you for reminding me that I shouldn’t expect anything less than monstrous behavior. There’s only one problem.”
I lifted the ball of fur between us as proof. She squirmed, so I let her down to roam. “Does she have a name?”
“She’s yours to name.” His voice was still edged with something hard.
I turned to glare at him. He glared right back.
Seconds ticked by so I arched a brow. At last, he gave a slow blink then turned away.
“There’s a small crate and some other supplies.
You can keep her in your room if you wish, or let her be a house dog. Whatever you desire.”
“Whatever I desire,” I murmured, repeating his words.
“How do you feel?” he asked, changing the subject. I was certain he was referring to last night.
“Pretty fucking fantastic.”
The puppy raced away, grabbed a nearby plant in her mouth, and ripped. I jerked forward and pulled her away, gently scolding her.
A chuckle sounded. “Already a menace. I like her.”
I snorted, bringing her back to the blanket where I settled her down, engaging her with a toy. “How about Goldie?” I mused.
“For a name? A bit cliche, don’t you think?”
“Hm…” My eyes darted around the room, searching for ideas. “Ivy, maybe?” Laurent grunted. “Okay…Bella? Lucy? Daisy?” Laurent scoffed at each one. But he was right. None of them were a match.
“How about naming her after something you love?”
My forehead scrunched. The little fluff ball was on her back now, snapping her sharp teeth at the toy I wiggled over her. “I love piano. A composer, maybe?”
“And math,” he added.
My eyes darted over to him before returning to the puppy. “And math.”
“What else?”
“Hm…swimming. Reading.”
“Any favorite book characters?”
“Maybe.” I considered a few, but none of them were quite right. A frown pulled at my lips. Who would have thought naming a puppy would be so hard?
Laurent’s hum caught my attention, as if he’d decided on something.
“What do you have?”
“Cinnamon,” he said. “Cinna for short.”
I opened my mouth to disagree, then stopped. I glanced down at her. “Cinnamon…”
“Because you love cinnamon rolls.”
A laugh burst from my chest. Was I really sitting here with Laurent contemplating dog names?
I rubbed my hand down her soft belly. It bulged because she’d probably gorged herself on food.
My heart melted. “I have always wanted a dog,” I whispered aloud, still not quite able to believe this.
My eyes betrayed me and filled with tears.
It was the first time they’d welled with emotion since the witches had taken me.
I’d always been a cryer, but after they’d tortured me, there had been no tears left.
Now, they were back.
I wanted to hate Laurent so much. It’s like he’d known this would change everything between us, even more than giving me his blood. Like he’d simply been baking me things to butter me up, and this was his grand gesture.
“Cinnamon,” I whispered. She stopped and turned her little puppy head toward me. Our eyes met. “Oh, my God. Her eyes are the color of cinnamon, too.”
That’s how I knew it was perfect.
I swept Cinna up into my arms and cuddled her against me. I couldn’t stop looking at her, rubbing my cheek against her soft little head. A tear dripped down my nose and into her fur. Laurent’s gaze was on me, like a heavy weight. Regardless of how I felt about him, I stilled beneath his attention.
My throat closed up but I managed a weak “Thank you” as I turned to look at him.
His expression broke, melting into something I wasn’t used to.
Those silver eyes darted between mine, taking in the tears.
I wished I could read his thoughts. “Don’t ever thank me for anything, Lily.
” For a moment, he looked almost human. Then he stood and walked out.
I was left blinking after him, trying to understand what the hell was happening.
Something fundamental had shifted. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to embrace it or run in the opposite direction.