Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“And all it took was ninety-three years and a little Black witch between us. It was worth the wait, Ryet. Don’t you agree?”
I press my lips together and hum. “Mmm. I do.”
This makes Paul smile so big, his eyes go bright. “It was always you, you know that, right? You have always been my reason.”
It’s not true. He’s been trying to make a baby vampire for hundreds of years. Much longer than I’ve been around. But I understand what he’s saying.
He loves me. For whatever reason, he does.
“Do you want a drink, Ryet?”
“Always,” I say back.
“Then help yourself.” He turns his head away from me, exposing his neck, and even if I had denied my desire to drink him, that silent offer would be enough to change my mind.
My blood lust for Syrsee is constant but my blood lust for Paul is beyond that. It’s insatiable.
At first all I do is lean over. But I can smell Paul’s blood and before I know it, I’m crawling on top of him. His hands caress my body as I open my mouth and press down, breaking the skin, puncturing the artery, and then it’s gushing. Blood fills my mouth faster than I can swallow it.
He never let me do this as a scion and I love every moment of it.
A moan escapes and for a moment, I think it’s me. But the low rumble of a growl is actually coming from Paul. “That’s it, Ryet. Take what you need.” He’s stroking me. My head, my leg, my back—I feel his touch everywhere. “Hell, take more than what you need. Take all you want, Ryet. You’ve earned it.”
A flash of anger passes through me, then the reason. A memory of Jane and the kids.
But it’s so quick, so fleeting, there isn’t even enough time to get mad. There isn’t even enough time to care.
Jane is gone.
The kids are gone.
I’m gone.
But Paul is still here. Even though I’m not really sure where ‘here’ is, he’s here.
There is so much blood in my mouth now, I start to choke on it. I don’t want it to end the drink. I don’t feel full enough. I want more. But I pull back anyway because it’s dripping out of my mouth. The moment I do this, the wound I made begins to close.
Paul is stroking my head like I’m a child. And since the drink is over, it annoys me. I push his hand off and roll over on my back, eyes closed, mind closed, body relaxed and approaching satisfaction. But, as always, I’m still hard. There is still more to want.
I feel like that’s the only word on my mind these days. I want. All I do is want. Blood, and sex, and, if it were available right now, dirt.
“Don’t worry,” Paul says. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you, Ryet.”
And so he does. He strokes me. Slowly, with a firm grip. His body pressing into mine. His mouth at my neck.
“Drink me,” I say. “Feed.”
“You like it, don’t you, Ryet?”
“Just do it.”
“It was all worth it, wasn’t it?” When I don’t say anything, he keeps going. “Go ahead. Lie if you must. Tell me you hate it. Tell me you crave that little wife of yours. That pathetic past life of yours.”
But I don’t crave her, or have any use for that life, and he knows this. I’ve already told him that it was worth it, but it’s never enough. He asks this question over and over again every time he appears to me. Like he needs constant reassurance. Or maybe he’s worried I’ll forget and start blaming him for something.
And let’s face it, Paul is a hundred percent responsible for every evil thing that ever happened to me, so he deserves this insecurity. But I’m done fighting with him. There is no point. So again, I say, “It was worth it, Paul.”
Paul chuckles. “I knew it. I knew you’d love it. I knew it from the moment you were born. When I was sitting in that forest looking down at you in my arms. I felt this. I felt all of it and I knew.”
I think about that baby and that forest. I’ve seen him holding it in my dreamwalks before I knew it was me. And now that I have a clearer picture of what is happening and what it all means, I have questions. “Do you love them all like you love me?”
“Does it make you jealous that I have more scions?”
I shrug, not bothering to open my eyes. “Jealous of what? You’ve given me everything.”
There is no chuckle now but I know he’s smiling. “I did, didn’t I?” He sounds different. Serious. His voice less musical than it usually is.
“Mmmhmm,” I hum. Because I’m tired and I’m probably gonna fall asleep.