Chapter Fifteen #2
“There are so many more things we can try.”
“We?”
“After you break my curse, I can help you. I have the means,” he said, likely referencing his wealth and connections.
“Why would you do that?”
“Move onto your stomach,” he ordered after seeing her wince again, and entirely ignoring her question. She did but instinctively pulled her hair around her throat.
Hands landed on her shoulders as the bed dipped behind her from Nathaniel’s weight.
He pressed his fingertips onto her shoulders, releasing the tension woven into her muscles.
Every touch glided over the contours of her shoulders and neck, each stroke unraveling the knots.
His strokes were firm, but gentle, the kneading moving up to the back of her neck.
She wanted to ask him why he did that, or to stop him so he wouldn’t get too close to her throat, but his massage felt too good. A sigh whispered from her lips as tingles cascaded down her spine, pooling in her lower back.
Time fell away with each ebb and flow of her breaths, surrendering to his strong fingers. Somehow, he knew exactly where to press harder and when to go lighter, as if he could sense what she was feeling.
Duke watched them both, his paw on the top of her hand, claws softly extending out every so often as if to say he was there and wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
He ran his palms over her back and then worked his fingers up her neck, behind her ears and into her hair. A second, involuntary moan whimpered in her throat when he massaged her head, releasing the pressure from her building headache.
When he eventually stopped, she shifted back onto her side and looked at him. Sweat beaded her skin, sticking strands of her black hair to her forehead.
“Katherine told me about the bond,” she said as the pain dissolved into the usual low thrum of agony—her normal.
Slowly, a fire crept through her thighs, pooling between them and her blood-painted lips pouted when he didn’t immediately answer.
Duke jumped off the bed, spotting something in the hallway behind the open door and darted out.
She watched him leave and turned her attention back to Nathaniel.
“You’re feverish,” he said.
“Don’t do that.”
His brow creased. “What?”
“Ignore my questions.”
“You didn’t ask me one.”
Her chest heaved, heart racing. Katherine also told her what vampire blood would do to her, and she wasn’t lying. Her gaze drifted south, and a blush crept up into her cheeks as she caught sight of his length beneath his thin nightshirt. He was huge and he wasn’t even erect.
“Charlotte, don’t.” Her name left his mouth in a plea and God had it had never sounded so good.
A twinge nestled into the crevices of her ribcage, making it harder to breathe.
Heat throbbed in her lower stomach when he placed his palms on his knees, his fingers flexing.
All she could think was how she wanted them between her legs, kneading the tension building between them.
She arched herself against the sheets, a whimper leaving her lips.
“It’s the blood,” he said, his voice tight with restraint. “It will pass. I must return to my room.”
“Wait,” she said, not sure why she needed him to stay.
Or why she wanted him to. It was the blood, but intermingled with the desire that already confused her, he was suddenly completely irresistible.
Especially when his fangs slid out over his lips.
Heat flushed her cheeks when she thought about all the places she wanted to feel them on her, sliding into her thighs, between her legs.
“Stay,” she said breathily. “I know you feel it too,” she said, her stomach dipping at her newfound courage. It was only lust, but it was undeniable and right then, it was all she could think about.
His nostrils flared. “Careful, little lamb.”
“I’m tired of being careful,” she confessed and licked her lips. “I want to taste you again. I want to—”
“What Katherine said was true,” he interrupted her, his eyes darkening when she sat herself up and leaned toward him, looking at him in a way she hadn’t before.
“When I drank from you, it created a link between us, one that is usually broken by death. Your blood was in my veins, your emotions and memories mixing with my own. I never let anyone live before, and since I did, all I can think about day and night,” he said in a deep, baritone voice stalking closer, slowly bringing his lips so close the bottom grazed over hers, “is tearing open your throat and devouring you until there is nothing left.”
She dragged her fingers over her throat, breath hitching. “You wouldn’t. You need me.”
“I am trying,” he growled. “But the thought of you consumes me. I crave you, Charlotte Lovett.” His lips twitched. “I crave your death.”
She swallowed thickly, her mouth drying. His words dimmed the effect of his blood, although heat still coursed through her.
They remained locked in eye contact until he grunted and turned away without looking back, stalking out of the room, leaving her behind in a puddle of hormones and embarrassment.