Sacrifice (Bloodline Vampires 1)

Damn him. That’s exactly what I’m not quite ready to admit. No matter how much I hate it, it’s easier to pretend I don’t have a choice. How else am I supposed to hold onto my rage, the only thing that’s kept me alive this long?

To avoid answering, I say, “You really were starving when I got here, weren’t you?”

“Vampires can’t starve to death.”

No, they just turn into dried out corpses without blood. It’s one of my father’s favorite ways to punish the vampires that cross him. When I was ten, he freed one that had been locked up for nearly a hundred years. I had nightmares for weeks. “Not to death, no, but you can starve.”

Malachi looks away. “My condition makes no excuse for attacking you.”

Maybe not, but it creates a bridge of understanding I’m not sure I wanted. If Malachi is trapped here with a blood ward, he’s entirely reliant on my father for blood. The last sacrifice was sent before I was born. Even if she lasted a few years, when I showed up Malachi had gone without blood for at least twenty years. The fact he had the restraint not to drink me dry, to try to prepare me for what was coming, is a little astounding when taken with that perspective.

He strokes my bottom lip with his thumb and drops his hand almost reluctantly. “Go to bed, Mina.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to fuck me. I want it. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t. I might even like this vampire, though it seems impossible to wrap my mind around. But in the end, I can’t speak the words that will unlock us from this stalemate.

I climb to my feet on shaky legs. “Goodnight, Malachi.”

“Goodnight, Mina.”

9

I can’t sleep. I should have known it was a lost cause before even trying, but hope springs eternal. Even now. I can’t stop thinking about all the new information this night brought, trying to puzzle through it to figure out what’s true and what’s manipulation. The possibility it might all be true is…

I don’t know what to think.

Even though I know I should stay in the relative safety of my room, eventually my rushing thoughts demand movement. If I can just work off some of this frantically circling energy, then maybe something will make sense.

Or that’s what I tell myself as I pad barefoot down the hallway. Dawn already lightens the horizon, another night having passed with us at a standstill. I press my forehead to the thick glass of the window and breathe slowly. The coolness does nothing to douse my thoughts, my feelings.

I want Malachi.

It takes so much to admit that truth to myself. I don’t like it. It’s inconvenient and messy, but it is the truth. I meant what I said before—there is no way for this thing between us to play out that doesn’t end in heartbreak. It’s an impossible situation.

But then, my entire life is an impossible situation. I’ve had no choice, no recourse, nothing that was mine and mine alone. Every single thing I’ve done is a reaction with the intent to survive.

What if I simply… said yes? Took what Malachi is offering? Took my chances with this small slice of pleasure?

I lift my head and sigh. I’m looking for an excuse to fuck him. Maybe I just need to stop trying to reason my way through it and simply do it.

I don’t make the decision to head for the stairs. My body simply moves on its own, each step taking me closer to Malachi’s bedroom on the third floor. Am I really going to do this? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

A sound cuts through my inner turmoil. A soft grunt. I stop short. It almost sounds like someone’s in pain, but even without much personal experience with it, I know what fucking sounds like. I should turn around. Should take the humiliation heating my cheeks and let it increase the distance between me and Malachi’s room.

I don’t. I walk down the hallway. The door is cracked, which feels almost like an invitation to press two fingers to the thick wood and push it open a few inches more. Just enough to see his bed. Just enough to see what he’s doing to Wolf in it.

My breath stalls in my chest and my feet sprout roots to hold me in place. Both men are naked. Wolf is on his hands and knees, each muscle in his lean body looking carved from stone as he shoves himself back against Malachi. No. That’s not what he’s doing. He’s shoving himself back onto Malachi’s cock.

And Malachi?

Gods, he’s a masterpiece. His thick hair is flung over one shoulder and his big body is one hard line, his ass flexing with each thrust as he takes Wolf’s ass. It’s brutal and they both look angry, as if they started a fight and ended up fucking despite themselves.