Page 49 of Hallowed Games

Vampires. They live forever, they feed off blood…

The reason he and Sion were immune to my touch. My heart slammed hard.

“Are you a vampire?” The word evoked something both alluring and forbidden, like silk running over bare skin. “Are you the reason all those bodies are showing up drained?”

“I don’t kill people anymore.” He seemed to freeze, his hand tightening around me. “You cannot tell a single person, but I think you need me as an ally. Understood?”

“Why the hell are you the Raven Lord? You’re Serpent-cursed.”

“You have your magical cravings.” His breath warmed my skin as his mouth hovered over my neck. “I have mine. The Order helps me stay in control of myself.”

“What happens if you don’t stay in control?”

He shifted up to meet my gaze. “I will. With you, I will.” Shadows slid through his eyes, and one of his hands slipped under my doublet, smooth against my bare skin. His fingers closed around my ribs. My back arched a little at the contact. By the primal look in his stare, I wasn’t even sure he was aware he was touching me. Instead, he was looking at me like I was a meal he needed to devour. And even if it set off alarm bells in my mind, I’d never felt so alive.

“Tell me what happens if you lose control.”

A pained expression slid across his features. “I’ll forget who you are.” Desperation laced his tone. “Forget who I am. Control is the only thing…but the blood makes it hard. So you have to drink mine. To heal you. Trust me.”

“What?” I trusted no one, and I particularly didn’t trust the Raven Lord. But right now, I didn’t have any other choice.

It must be the Serpent in me who delighted in this feeling of vulnerability, who craved the darkness in Maelor. And it was the twisted wickedness of the Serpent who wanted my enemy’s hand to move higher up my body, to cup my breast.

Maelor exuded some kind of primal power that drew me in and numbed my pain.

“Drink your blood?” I asked, half in a trance.

“To heal you.” His voice had turned husky. “Now.” He lowered his face closer to mine, his breath warming the side of my jaw.

His voice trailed off, his eyes now pools of black. Fear danced up my spine. I wasn’t sure what the darkening eyes meant except that it signaled a primitive, bone-deep warning. I should be getting as far away from him as possible.

And yet…

Why, exactly, did I find those shadow-kissed eyes so beautiful? They were a dangerous, fathomless abyss drawing me in. Like the chasm in the temple, ruination and madness lay in those depths. This close to him, I hardly even felt the pain anymore. My heart pumped harder, blood heating with exhilaration. He was showing me the real version of himself, dark as I was. And it was pure seduction.

In the small space, I found myself pulling off my gloves. Even if I was near death, I hungered for touch. I was starved of it. Remember, Elowen. It doesn’t matter how pretty he is. He’s the enemy. He’s the Raven Lord.

I hated myself for clinging to the thin, black material beneath his cloak, twisting it in my fingers. My knuckles brushed against his bare skin, and I heard him gasp, his eyelids fluttering. I stared as his upper lip rose a little, and sharp fangs shot out from his canines.

He bit into his own wrist, and I froze, hardly daring to breathe. I’d known he was evil, but this was something else.

I stared at the blood running from the wound, transfixed. Under the metallic scent, I breathed in something else. Something sweet and intoxicating that I wanted to run my tongue over…

The blood of a vampire. It must be magic because I should absolutely be recoiling in revulsion at the thought of drinking blood. Instead, I licked my lips, desperate to run my tongue over that claret. Archon, I was thirsty.

“Drink.” He bent his arm, holding it over my mouth.

My throat was parched from a day without water. I watched as the blood slid down his skin, cherry red.

“Drink, Elowen. Now,” he growled.

The word drink rang in my thoughts, an echoing command. He didn’t seem very well able to explain himself at this point, but that one word was a clarion call I couldn’t resist.

I pulled his wrist to my mouth, tasting him—a sweet wine quenching my thirst. This was all wrong. Unnatural. This evil was an abomination, a crime against the Archon. Surely we’d be cursed again—

It tasted amazing, though, and it slid down my throat, into my chest. I inhaled the spiced scent of him, and a sensual charge pulsed in my core.

Oh, Archon, this was dangerous. Drinking from a vampire was like nothing I’d ever experienced. The sweet liquid filled me with warmth. Hot, liquid pleasure swept through my belly. As I drank, every ache, every sharp tear in my body was replaced by a soothing throb through my muscles. I swept my tongue over his skin, and heat swelled in my core.

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