Page 73 of Bewitched By a Vampire

“Night, listen to me. You’re under a spell. Give me a moment and I’ll be able to figure out what it is and cast the counter-spell.” She backed off when he advanced on her, his gaze locked on her throat. Blood trickled over her skin there, the hot slide of it making her hyper-aware of the wound and how much of that precious liquid she was losing. Her head turned and she shook it, unsure whether she was trying to clear it or tell him to stop.

She tried to focus as he stared at the wound and somehow managed to summon the spell that would tell her which one they had used on him. She didn’t get a chance to cast it before he was on her again, sucking greedily on her throat, making her head spin and blood burn. He grasped her bottom in both hands as he fed deeply and she pressed her hands to his shoulders.

Not to push him back, but to funnel the spell into him.

It went to work, rapidly running through his body to reveal the spell the guards had used. She heard one of them mutter to the other, and then they began chanting again. Lilian cried out as Night bit her again and held on to consciousness, refusing to succumb to the encroaching darkness. If she did, she was as good as dead, and Night would follow her to the grave.

The second she knew which spell the witches had used, she built a counter-spell and chanted the incantation as she shifted her hands to the sides of Night’s head. She clutched it and channelled the spell into him as it built, untangling his instincts from the spell the witches had used and freeing him of it.

As the last thread gave way, he released her and staggered backwards, a vicious snarl pealing from his lips. His crimson gaze narrowed on her, a hunger for violence or maybe just more blood shining in it, and she feared her spell hadn’t worked and then it struck her that it had, but Night was too far gone. His bloodlust was in control now.

They were doomed.

She sagged against the wall, the last of her strength leaving her.

It was over.

Night’s demeanour changed in the blink of an eye, the shift from vicious to vulnerable happening so quickly she couldn’t keep up as his gaze dropped to her neck. His brow furrowed and he approached her, but halted and edged back a step when she managed to lift her hand and touch her throat. The wound was ragged and the feel of blood pulsing from it made her want to be sick. She flinched.

He flinched too.

His scarlet gaze fell to the floor and then edged back to her, and then lowered to the damp flagstones again. He edged towards her, keeping his gaze away from her, and she would have found his behaviour fascinating if it wasn’t for the fact she was so tired. Maybe she would sleep for a while.

Her eyes slipped shut.

Night roared and was on her, and she didn’t have the strength to fight him as he wrapped his arms around her. She sagged in his embrace, ready to welcome the long sleep.

Only Night didn’t sink his fangs into her to finish the job.

He gently swiped his tongue over the wound on her throat, his actions tender as he held her to him, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other supported her back. The pain eased as he licked the ragged holes his fangs had made, the fog in her head clearing slowly and a sliver of her strength returning.

When he pulled back, looking as if his heart was about to break, she drowsily patted his arm, trying to show him that she wasn’t done for yet. Whatever he had done, it had stemmed the bleeding and had stolen away the pain.

His brow furrowed and his gaze lowered to her throat again, and he leaned in and licked it some more, each sweep of his tongue over her flesh sending a ripple of pleasure through her, a faint echo of how she had felt when he had first bitten her.

Just as she was about to clutch his arms and hold on to him, he drew back again and looked down at her, his soft eyes darting between hers. His handsome face hardened and he stepped back, and she wanted to tell him to stay with her, to keep holding on to her because she needed his strength right now, needed him to chase her fears away by being close to her. She was too tired to speak though, and she needn’t have worried because he didn’t release her. He kept hold of her with his right hand and lifted his left to his mouth.

She flinched as he sank his fangs into his forearm.

What was he doing?

He eased his arm away from his lips and offered it to her.

Lilian stared at the blood as it welled up to fill the two puncture marks, her magic rising to the fore to rouse a fierce need to take what Night was offering. Her magic wanted it, and she knew why. His blood would trigger her ability to see his memories. With it, she could prove his innocence.

But by taking it, she would also bind them. He would become her master, and she would become his servant. He didn’t want that.

So she closed her eyes to shut out the sight of it and shook her head.

Night growled, and she thought he was angry with her, but when she opened her eyes, she found him kneeling on the cold stone floor, bent over and clutching his stomach.

The poison.

She needed to get him the cure and fast, but she wouldn’t find it here. Her coven wouldn’t give him the antidote. They wanted him dead. She would need to find it elsewhere and that meant she had to get him out of this place.

How?

The door creaked open and sickness rolled through her as she got the answer to her question. She knew what she had to do.

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