Blood Ties Book Two: Possession. Jennifer Armintrout

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СКАЧАТЬ kick elicited a small shift. A frown creased her brow, and she turned her head. Her dull hair fell back, exposing her neck. The pulse point there leaped with seductive familiarity.

       Just one bite.

      He was no longer a vampire. He had no fangs, no blood thirst, at least not physically. But his soul still craved it. Craved the rich taste of the blood. The emotional connection from drinking. Canned soup couldn’t replace that.

      He slid to the ground soundlessly and curved his body around hers, closing his eyes to stop the room from spinning. Though her hips and shoulders were bony, her flesh was warm and welcoming. He remembered this part, the seduction. There had been times when hurting them just to watch them fight had been enjoyable, but he wasn’t sure of his strength now, and he didn’t want her screaming to alert the vampires upstairs.

      Her hair still smelled of shampoo, the cheap, pungent strawberry variety he’d seen in the bathroom. He buried his face against her neck and tasted her skin, salty with perspiration and fear.

      His touch didn’t wake her. She moaned softly when he traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. Her hips pushed back against his, and he held them there, tight against his growing arousal.

      This was how he remembered it. The pure, physical pleasure mingled with overwhelming emotion. There was always a moment where the act made him drunk, made him forget that he’d intended to kill, and overrode his consciousness. For an instant, he’d be tricked into believing it was an expression of love and not a prelude to death. For an instant, he’d be fooled into believing they loved him.

      He squeezed his eyes shut tight and slipped his hand into the front of her dress. The warmth of her beating heart echoed his, mocking him.

      They never loved him. How could they? He’d never been worthy of love. Not his father’s, not his wives’ or his companions’. What had he ever done to earn love?

      This was where the moment of perfection took an ugly turn. Rage filled him. His hold on her bony hip turned cruel. Even without his vampire strength, he knew he would leave a bruise.

      This was what he craved. The pain. The horror. He reveled in it.

      She woke with a start. He leaned over her to see the comprehension slowly take her. First confusion at waking from such a sinfully pleasant dream. Then shame when she realized her dream had been reality. Horror, when she saw who held her, and finally, acceptance as she realized what he would do.

      Though her body trembled, her limbs were frozen in a pathetic, helpless attempt at pushing him away that never connected with his flesh. He licked his lips and lowered his head, adrenaline fueling his weak body. His blunt, human teeth didn’t break the skin. She found her voice to scream as his jaws crushed the tender flesh of her throat, but she didn’t fight him. He tried again, and she pummeled his chest with her fists. He ignored her and bit once more, covering her mouth with his hand to quiet her.

      She bit him in her struggle, and he cursed. He rolled on top of her to pin her to the cold, bare floor. Her dress rode up her thighs and he wedged himself between her legs. He felt the heat and wetness he’d pulled from her through the thin, damp cotton of her panties, when she’d thought she was dreaming. Her eyes opened wide at the intimate contact. She froze for a mere second before resuming her thrashing and squirming. She thought he would violate her, and she fought harder than when she’d assumed he would kill her.

      Her terror was an aphrodisiac. The scent of her fear-tinged sweat filled his nostrils. The feeling of her wriggling for escape against his hard body aroused him further. He twisted one hand in her hair and yanked her head back. Aiming for the angry, red welts he’d left on her neck, he lunged forward and bit.

      This time, he didn’t release the pressure immediately. He increased it until his jaw ached and his ears rang. She scratched at his back with her nails, dragging slashes of pain across his shoulder blades. Her scream, one long, keening wail, rose in pitch the harder he bore down.

      Finally, with a sickening pop, her flesh gave way. She bled, not a gush as from an artery, but a mere trace. If he could have remembered this taste in the afterlife, he would have known he was in hell. To think of ever having been separated from the beautiful violence of drinking blood…He shuddered as he lapped gently at the torn flesh of the wound.

      Her scream abated, replaced by silent sobs he only noticed by the heaving of her throat under his mouth. He’d hurt her, made her cry. He had that power again, whether human or not. It excited him.

      The taste of her burned an exquisite fire in his groin. He thrust against her thighs and abandoned himself to the horrible pleasure of the blood oozing from her torn neck and the despair emanating from her soul. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t like before.

      “Please,” she rasped, hauling in breath as though the oxygen weighed a thousand pounds. “Please, don’t.”

      Her desperate whisper pushed him over the edge. He threw his head back and groaned as he came, spilling his seed on the pale flesh of her thighs. Breathing hard, he rolled away from her. She scrambled backward on her elbows then struggled to her feet with unrestrained sobs. The bathroom door slammed shut and the sound of the latch falling dropped a weight of ice in his guts.

      He hadn’t enjoyed it like he had in the old days. Before, when he’d been a vampire, he wouldn’t have given a second thought to what he’d done. Now, his conscience pricked him, a sting he’d trained himself to ignore after he’d been turned. Why had it come back? It was certainly something he could do without.

      He’d hurt her. A moment ago it had brought him pleasure. It should have now. He’d done worse to countless other girls, destroyed their innocence and their trust, if not their lives.

      It was exactly the same as he’d done to the Mouse.

      He sat up, supporting himself on shaking arms, and stared at the closed bathroom door. He couldn’t hear her soft sobs, but he imagined them as he listened to the water running in the bathtub. Her spirit had been weak already. She’d seen her friends slaughtered and violated before her eyes. But she hadn’t been completely broken. Not until now. Not until the moment he’d abused and terrorized her.

       It’s what you do. You’re a monster.

      Though he knew it to be true, he couldn’t force himself to believe it. Humanity had been woven back into his frayed soul, for better or for worse. Most likely, for worse.

      Climbing to his feet, he went to the bathroom door, gripping objects for support as he went. “Come out of there.”

      She didn’t answer.

      “I said come out of there.” He had no patience for this game. He should be upstairs, demanding answers of his captors and insisting to be restored to his former state. If he could even make it up the stairs after the energy he’d expended fighting her.

      “To hell with you.” His words echoed his thoughts. He limped to the small chest of drawers and pulled out some of the dead priest’s clothes. The trousers were a bit short and the waist a bit big, but he would worry about proper attire later. He shoved his arms into one of the hideous, button-down, black shirts and headed to the narrow stairs. Halfway there, his legs gave way and he toppled to the floor. Still, he kept going, pulling himself slowly to the foot of the staircase, where he had to catch his breath before he could crawl up the rough steps.

      He’d expected the door at the top to be locked somehow, and it was, but only СКАЧАТЬ