As Shadows Fade (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 5)

She fought against him with one hand; he heard her say his name, urgent… pleading. Victoria, pleading.

But he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop himself… The red haze blazed through him as he covered her mouth, tasting her, smelling the blood that would soon ease his craving. He crushed her lips, his hands sliding over her skin even as she arched and twisted, her stake just out of reach, his weight and vampire strength… and the manacle… holding her in place.

Overcome by unbounded craving, he needed to taste, to kiss, to f**k, to possess, to control …

“Sebastian.” Her voice was sharp, a bit thready, in his ear as she yanked her face away.

The blood was there, beneath her ear, there in front of him. He lost everything else, everything but that beckoning red streak.

It was there… teasing, taunting… he shouldn’t. There was a reason… He shouldn’t, he couldn’t… but saliva pooled in his mouth, and the blood coursed from the wounds in her neck, the distended vein that swelled, teasing him, even as he watched, as she writhed beneath him.

“Giulia,” she gasped. “Sebastian, remember Giulia.”

She moved sharply, knocking him askew, and he felt her hand moving toward that stake.

No.

He grabbed her wrist, but she twisted and yanked, forcing him to release her grip. He moved forward, into her throat. His lips brushed against her hot, salty skin, and the blood… He touched it, warm and sleek, with his mouth.

Pleasure, lust, craving blasted through him at the faint iron sense on his lips. More. More.

He opened his mouth, his fangs, still so odd, slipping out, sliding against her skin.

And then he felt something in his back. Sharp.

“Sebastian.” Her voice, low, gasping, pleading. “You cannot.”

He scraped his fang over her skin, sliding over the saltiness, a bit of that luscious blood slipping with it. The stake pushed harder-how had she gotten it?-but she said, “I’ll do it. I don’t want to, but… I’ll do it.”

He needed this… He couldn’t see, think, conceive of anything but this… The blood on his lips touched his tongue. Pleasure burst inside him, and he nearly shoved his fangs in right then. Nearly.

“Sebastian, think of Giulia. You can’t. Please. Don’t. You’re stronger than this.” Her br**sts moved against him as she drew in the breaths to plead. “You wear the vis bulla .”

The vis bulla that burned every time he touched it now; it annoyed the skin at his belly when it touched, a constant burn. But he wore it…

Wayren. Her face popped into his confused, red, blazing mind. The heavy silver ring on his left hand.

His head felt heavy, but… Giulia .

He didn’t care. He cared about nothing, nothing but the blood. The need, the driving pull.

It called to him. That siren song lulled and teased and pulled, and with one movement, it would be over. Pleasure coursing through him. The need sated-the need he’d fought.

Victoria heaved suddenly, powerfully beneath him, shoving him off balance. He slipped to one side, and she slammed him with a knee, in the side of the face, then followed with her other foot.

He tumbled onto the floor, and she scrambled on the bed, frantically working on the manacle. It fell away with a clink, and the stake was in her hand by the time he gained his footing.

Breathing hard, he looked at her: the face he would never forget, the woman he loved, the eyes, sharp but pleading.

“You’re strong, Sebastian. Don’t.”

She sat there, unafraid, free now, waiting. Stake in her hand. A breath away.

He swallowed. Reached for her.

His fingers closed around her arm, her warm arm.

“I’ll kill you before I let you feed. I won’t let you damn yourself. But I want to know why.” She beckoned, gave him a look that burned through him.

The desire bumped again, and he thought he might move, lunge toward her. Get one taste before…

His hand fell automatically to the vis bulla at his belly. He touched it, winced at the pain, but felt… something-power? relief?-mixed with the pain.

The need ebbed that little bit.

“Why did you do this? Let me help.”

He could breathe now. Words floated through his mind, filtering through the haze.

The long promise. The new world. A savior.

Rosamunde’s words came back to him.

And in the new world shall be a savior who carries the deepest taint. A long promise shall the savior make and in the end those for whom he lives will be saved.

A long promise… and in the end those for whom he lives will be saved.

In the end. Was this the end?

The door burst open, and the next thing Sebastian knew, he was jerked from Victoria, thrown against the wall. Whipped, like a sack of flour. And Max Pesaro had him pinned there by the throat.

Twenty-six

Two Farewells, and a Shocking Instance in Which Victoria and Max Agree

“Max,” Victoria said, stepping toward them. He had Sebastian by the throat, his stake ready. “Release him.”

Not only did she not need his help, but the imminent danger was past.

She’d seen Sebastian’s eyes fade from the burning, needy red into their normal amber color, and knew that his moment of weakness was past. Whether he would face that temptation again in the future remained to be seen, but for now, he controlled it.

And before she sent him to his rest, she wanted to learn why he’d done this, taken on this burden.

Max ignored her command, holding an unmoving Sebastian pinned. Instead, he asked, “Did he feed on you?” His words came out tight and more clipped than usual. “Or… anything else?”

“No.” She took a moment-just a moment, now that the danger was past-to admire Max in all his dark fierceness. She was, after all, a woman. And she was completely besotted with the man.

Max adjusted his stake as though reluctant to put it away unused; then he dropped his hand and turned from Sebastian. He looked around the room, his gaze skipping over Victoria as if afraid to land there. The same as it had after he succeeded at the Trial, but this time she thought she understood why. “Lilith?”

“She’s dead,” Sebastian replied. True to form, he’d merely stepped away from the wall and adjusted his clothing, as though nothing more traumatic had occurred than an askew neck cloth.

“Dead?” Max’s voice held rare surprise. “Truly?”

“Dead by Victoria’s hand, of course. Did you ever doubt the woman could do what she set out to?” If it hadn’t been for the terrible situation moments earlier, Victoria wouldn’t have known Sebastian was changed, for he replied in the same offhand fashion he might have if this conversation had happened two months ago.