Bond Deeper Than Blood

“You taste divine,” he growls. “I want more.”

The wound on my lip closes and he pulls away, his crimson eyes blazing with lust. I practically pout from the loss of him. His kisses are gentle and reverent as he trails them along my jaw to my neck. He laps at my skin right over my carotid as though he wishes he could bite me there. I almost beg him to but then figure it’s a bad idea considering the location. He continues his trek to my collarbone and then to my breast. When his lips wrap around my nipple and he sucks, I buck off the bed. Each time he swipes his tongue over my nipple, I see stars.

I want more.

I need more.

“Bite me,” I whisper, terrified at my request.

“I should show restraint.” His teeth tease at the flesh. “I really should.”

“I want you to. It’s my choice. You won’t kill me.”

At least I hope not.

“Never,” he growls.

A moan escapes me when he pierces the skin on either side of my nipple. An animalistic groan rumbles from him as he sucks in a long pull of blood. Immediately, my body feels as though it’s flying. My nerves are buzzing with need and my arousal can be felt as it soaks through my panties.

He bites me again, this time on my other nipple. The heady, blissful sensation intensifies. Another bite below my ribs. Another one on my stomach. Again, lower, near my pelvic bone, just above my underwear. And then the fabric is being shredded like it’s nothing. His teeth sink into my thigh.

“Mine,” he murmurs, dragging blood along my upper thigh to the mid portion.

His teeth bite into me again, this time perfectly on my femoral artery. The room spins as he sucks hard. Light dims and I close my eyes. He rubs his thumb along my clit as he sucks harder. My body weakens, drunk on the bliss.

“Stop,” a voice commands. “Now, Laurent.”

I can’t open my eyes. I’m drifting into the darkness. Snarling can be heard and then my wounds are being licked closed.

“Drink,” the voice orders. I recognize it as Beck. “Drink, darling.”

Something metallic and tangy drips on my tongue. I wince, but it tastes like something I need. I latch my mouth to his wrist, sucking what must be his blood. Clarity hits me like a freight train.

What happened?

When I open my eyes, I’m covered by a sheet and Laurent is gone. Beck frowns at me as he pulls his hand away and licks the wound closed.

“Laurent can’t seem to control himself around you,” Beck says. “I think it would be best if you don’t invite him in.”

“He didn’t ask for an invitation.”

“Next time, whether it be a dreamwalk or in real life, ask him to leave.”

Tears well in my eyes at his words. I don’t want to send him away. I just found him. I missed him. My plan to kill him—mercy be thy way—feels ridiculous and monstrous now that I’ve kissed him.

“I don’t think I can,” I whisper.

“He’ll kill you if you don’t,” he warns. “You’d be dead by now if I didn’t show up looking for him. All it takes is a good bite to a main vein, darling, and your life drains far too quickly. He hasn’t learned to control himself yet.”

Beck pulls away and then stands. “Tomorrow night, we try again to find the twins. Be ready.”

He flashes away, leaving me cold and lonely. Sadness creeps inside me, infecting every part of my being. When I finally do drift off to sleep, eager to see Laurent, I’m met with empty dreams.

He doesn’t show up.

“This way,” Beck says, prowling through a dark alley.

Laurent is at my back, but he’s cold and distant. After what happened the night before, he hasn’t spoken a word to me. At first, I thought it was for the best, but now it just hurts. Sure, he bit me a few times, but I asked for it. And, like Beck said, he couldn’t control it, but it’s not his fault he’s still a new vampire.

If Jude knew what I’ve been up to lately, he’d throttle me. Slayers aren’t supposed to fraternize with vampires. We can use them as allies and have them as friends, but romantic relationships are frowned upon. Hard to kill them when you’re in love with them.

Eventually, I’ll be forced to kill Laurent.

My chest aches just thinking about it.

Beck slows at the sound of voices around the corner. One of them is familiar. I’m racing past Beck before he can stop me. I discover Ricardo—the vampire from the Castlerock bar who stood me up for our one-month date for information—pinning a feral vampire to the wall, snarling at him.

“Ricardo,” I bark out.

“Leave, girl,” he hisses. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It concerns me,” Beck rumbles. “That vampire has the blood plague.”