Page 42 of Claiming the Dhampir

Nathan

Iwoke with the setting sun just like every other day. Unlike every other day, though, my thirst for blood had me snarling as soon as my eyes opened. Sitting up, I rolled to the edge of the bed and groaned. My body ached, and it only took a second to remember why. Brance and his sadistic followers.

Another second passed, and the memory of Lorna’s blood made my head spin. The promise of power and strength made me shiver with anticipation, but the taste of her … At the time, I was too weak and addled to appreciate the exquisiteness of her magical essence. I wanted more.

And I hated that it only took once to fall into this addiction. I loathed myself for being too weak to hold out for human blood. I never should’ve let my guard down and allowed myself to be lured into the fae’s grasp. But I had, and now I’d live with the consequences.

“That bad?”

My head snapped up at the sound of Damon’s voice in my bedroom. He sat next to the door in one of the dining room chairs too small to accommodate his demon form. That wasn’t all he’d brought with him. Three glasses rested on my dresser—glasses full of blood. I drew in a deep breath, trying to take in the scent of Lorna’s blood.

“Is that hers?” I asked, nodding at the blood but not moving to take it.

“No,” Damon said.

Disappointment mixed with my gratitude as I rose and tried not to run to the dresser. My body had mostly healed—probably because of Lorna’s blood—but I was famished. I didn’t want anyone to see me less than composed and in control. Even though Damon had witnessed me in all of my moods, I hated appearing weak.

Someone had removed all my clothes except my boxer briefs and attempted to wash the blood from my skin. Probably Damon or Elliott. I hoped. I needed a shower and clean clothes. I glanced back at my bed and frowned at the blood-stained sheets. I should probably just toss them out.

I drained the first glass in seconds, not even tasting the warmed liquid as it slid down my throat. With the second glass, I had time to savor my nourishment. Only there was nothing to savor. It tasted bland and even a little bitter. I curled my lip, then forced myself to drink it anyway. I knew it was my body’s craving for dhampir blood that would make everything else taste awful.

I tried to ignore the way Damon watched me with knowing eyes and a sympathetic grimace.

I emptied the second glass and reached for the last one. The thought of forcing it down my throat made my stomach curl. Maybe I’d wait and see if two was enough to finish healing my broken body. It would never be enough to stop my cravings for Lorna.

“Is Brance dead?” I asked.

“Elliott killed him.”

I’d hoped that bastard hadn’t escaped. I would’ve found a way to kill him myself if he had.

“Where is everyone?”

“You should drink the last one, then shower,” Damon said, not answering my question. “We have a lot to discuss, and I need you focused.”

I snarled and spun back around to face him. I would not tolerate someone telling me what I needed to do. Damon rose from his chair, his demonic magic swirling around the room. Tendrils of dark fog slithered along the floor in my direction.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was not me. I didn’t behave irrationally. I didn’t lash out at my most trusted friend. Damon was right. I was unfocused. I exhaled slowly then sucked in another deep breath. Damon’s magic prickled my skin, sending a wave of unease through my aching body and reminding me that the only reason I was in charge was because he didn’t want the responsibility.

“I’ll be in the living room,” Damon said. “Elliott is already there. Kenrid is staying with Lorna.”

I opened my eyes and realized he’d answered my question from earlier. I nodded and grabbed the last glass of blood from the dresser.

“I’ll be out shortly.”

It didn’t take long for me to get clean and presentable, but I could still feel my mind wandering. Maybe I just needed to add a few drops of Lorna’s blood to my regular meal?

“No,” I mumbled. “Don’t go there, idiot.”

Scoffing, I pulled back my shoulders and walked into my living room.

Elliott paced back and forth across the open-concept space from the seating area in the living room to the kitchen. Damon reclined on the sofa, but his thumping tail proved he was not as relaxed as he appeared.

“There’s another glass next to the stove,” Damon said, nodding toward the kitchen.

Sure enough, another serving of blood waited for me.

“Are you trying to get me blood drunk?” I asked, already on my way to consume another dose of human blandness.

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