When he faced her, he wore lines of stress around his eyes. “One more day of freedom, but you have to feed now.”
It had to be a trick. She didn’t trust him. He just wanted her to feed, then he would force her to go home, and she’d be punished even more for drinking from another male.
But maybe it would be better if she had her strength. She dreaded seeing Silus. Unlike the bishop, her husband wouldn’t care about her discomfort. He’d use her hunger as a punishment, on top of whatever else he had planned.
Still, the thought of feeding from the bishop… She shivered, never having shared such an intimate act with a male other than her husband before. “Couldn’t we just go for a hunt?”
“My blood is the strongest source available to you. It will do you well.”
She drew back as understanding dawned. “You want me to take your blood so you can track me.”
It made sense since she’d already run once. She had to starve herself before escaping the farm, ensuring Silus’s blood had completely left her system. If she drank from the bishop now, she’d never get away from him.
“That’s one reason.”
“Are there more?”
“Yes, but my reasons are private. I’ll share them with you once you start cooperating.”
“You mean obeying.”
“I mean compromising. Are you always this infuriating?”
“Are you always this calculating?”
“Is feeding from me so repulsive to you that you would sacrifice your own comfort?”
What comfort? He was set on stealing away the only comfort she’d found.
Weakened by an inescapable sense of defeat, she no longer cared if she fed from the bishop or starved to death. Her weight dropped onto the couch as she numbly stared at the floor.
“It doesn’t matter. Whether I feed from you now or Silus later, I’m just a puppet tied to another man’s strings.”
Sit up, Larissa.
Do not argue, Larissa.
Wear the maroon dress, Larissa.
Lay still, Larissa.
A tear rolled from her eye. “What a tragic existence my life has become.”
The bishop silently watched her for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he softened his tone. “You’re still quite young. Your life has hardly begun.”
“Then why does it feel like it’s already over?” She dashed away another tear.
“You must keep an open mind so your soul can recognize your mate.”
“And what mate is that? The mate that you and The Elders assigned to me?”
“I’m speaking of your true mate.”
“Sentenced to one, promised to another.” She shook her head. “Only a male god could come up with such incongruent laws of nature.”
“God loves you, child.”
“Do not speak to me about love. If God loved me, then why has he forsaken me?” Where was God the first time Silus forced himself inside of her, or the first time he raised a hand to her in anger? Where was He the night her husband locked her in the closet and left her there for days without light or water?
“God does not punish.”
“Maybe not, but my husband does. I’ve looked into his mind, Bishop, and, like many males in The Order, he likes to pretend he’s a god. You’ve certainly given him the power of one.”
“He’ll never mistreat you again,” he vowed through clenched teeth.
“Even you don’t have that sort of authority over him. I’m his wife—his property. Family Law states—”
“He will never mistreat you again.”
The certainty in his voice stole the argument from her lungs like a shift of the wind steals the strength of sails. A tickle traveled along her scalp and her spine softened, her body relaxing into the sofa. She was suddenly too exhausted to keep her eyes fully open.
He lowered onto the cushion beside her, and she watched him through a tranquil haze. There was something strangely familiar about him that made her frown.
He slowly rolled up his sleeve. “Larissa, you’re hungry and must feed now.”
“Yes,” she murmured, barely opening her mouth for the word and finding it impossible to lift her head.
“Will you be a good girl and do as you are told?”
“Yes.”
“Very good, little mouse.”
She frowned and blinked at him, but her motions were subdued as if she were moving through water. Did he just call her a mouse? She wasn’t a mouse, or at least she didn’t want to be, not anymore at least.
He tipped up her chin and looked into her eyes. “Are you ready to feed?”
She nodded. Somehow detached from the present, she watched the bishop slowly open his crisp, black shirt, exposing a wall of sculpted muscle. A gentle hand slid under her hair and her head relaxed in his hold.
“Very good.” He shifted, pulling her closer and angling her mouth toward his throat. His scent was intoxicating, and her fangs lengthened as her ears focused on the quick beat of his pulse. “Drink now, little mouse.”
Her jaw opened and her teeth pierced his flesh. The warm, potent tang of his aged, immortal blood shocked her system. It burst over her tongue, awaking a desperate need to feed. Moaning at the delicious flavor, she angled her body for better access and slipped her fingers through his hair, holding him to her.