Page 55 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Five

“I have to go.” He turns for the door.

“Wait, Arion?—”

Bran pulls me back. “Let him go.”

“What? Why?”

“You just shattered his worldview, Mouse. Let the man digest it.”

Arion disappears out the front door and down the front steps. Everything in me says to stop him from going. But I know Bran’s right. If I want my brother to join me, I can’t rush him into it, even if the clock is ticking.

Episode Ninety

CLEAN IT UP, MOUSE

Bran drives the Bimmer back to Duval House, blood still splattered across his face. I don’t want to look at him and have dirty thoughts about him being bloody and savage, but I do. Bran unhinged is sexy as hell and I’ve come to miss that side of him. I think he’s pulled back a lot lately, trying to let me stand on my own, let me take the spotlight.

And as much as I want my independence and autonomy, I also want Bran in all his bossy, bloody glory. Basically I want my cake and to eat it too.

It takes Bran no time at all to reach the house and after parking beneath the porte-cochere, he hands the Bimmer’s keys over to the attendant at the side entrance. With sunrise fast approaching, I expect his energy to be waning, but I have to jog to keep up with him. He doesn’t take me to the Anneliese. Instead, we head further into the mansion to a bedroom I’ve yet to visit.

It’s dark and elegant like Bran, but with a bit more frill to it with a gilded, tufted headboard and velvet upholstered furniture the color of dark moss.

Bran flicks on a light switch, but the giant crystal chandelier hanging from a hand carved medallion in the center of the ceiling stays dark, while several lamps and crystal sconces light up around the room keeping it cozy and semi-dark.

There’s a large, flat screen TV hanging on the wall directly across from the bed and on the opposite wall, with two wingback chairs in front of it, is a giant fireplace, the mantle and surround carved from marble.

“Is this your room?” I ask him.

“It’s a room,” he tells me and strips off his t-shirt. “This is still the safest place for you, but the Anneliese will do nothing to keep a fae out. It’s best to stay in an unassigned room in the bowels of Duval House.”

I crane my neck at the high ceilings, the delicate crown molding. “I wouldn’t necessarily call this the bowels.”

The zipper on his jeans comes down and he tears them off quickly, tossing them into a nearby bin.

Now he’s standing in the soft golden light in nothing but black boxer briefs with blood dried and flaking on his pale skin and a hungry glow to his eyes.

I can make out every hard-edge of muscle, every tendon, bone, and vein swelling beneath his skin. He looks like he’s lost weight—not much, but enough to notice.

“Have you been eating?” I ask him. “Drinking,” I correct.

Nothing about his expression changes, but I still sense his gnawing hunger. It’s the way he holds himself rigid, as if he’s afraid that one sudden movement might result in violence.

I’m not worried about him losing control around me but I am worried about him being satiated.

I reach up and pull a length of my hair aside, exposing my neck to him.

Just the thought of him biting me has my heart jumping in my chest.

I see the moment he decides to take my offering.

His irises flare amber and he zeros in on the echoing pulse point in my neck.

One second he’s standing still across the room, and the next he’s a blur as he crosses it, grabbing me roughly, and driving me back against the wall. He sinks his teeth into my neck with all the delicacy of a hammer and a startled cry comes out of my throat.

But Bran doesn’t stop.

Fangs sunk into my flesh, he draws on me. There is heat and pain, but pleasure too and my body is confused by which to give in to. Instinctively I try to draw away from him, but his grip is rough and firm at the back of my neck, keeping me against him as he pulls on my blood. And his command of me has a buzzing pleasure slithering down my belly, down between my legs.

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