Page 157 of A Debt of Darkness

Pain rips through my chest and down my spine as my nerves scream out in pain. They fire off their flares of irritation, shrieking as I experience another bout of agonizing heat threatening to burn me to a crisp. I’m dying piece by piece, little by little, turning into the dead but living creature I’ll become.

My skin is drenched and I’m no longer sure if it’s sweat or blood. It’s wept both and I’m in too much pain to care. This death is an agony I never thought I’d endure, and although it’s coming to an end, it isn’t finished yet.

Henry lifts me out of bed and carries me to the shower, washing me down as I cling to him. He’s careful, soft, and loving. Attentive as he cleans my body and washes away whatever dirt is tainting it, peppering kisses over every single inch of me.

“When does this end?”

He sighs and drops his mouth onto my shoulder. His teeth pierce my skin and I moan quietly as he sucks, taking a little blood and letting his venom ease the pain. We’ve done this dance a couple of times, and I relax, settling into a familiar rhythm as a different warmth washes over me.

“Soon, lea. You’ve almost fully turned. It’d be faster if you took more blood.”

“I hate it.”

Henry looks at me without pity, silently shouting that I need to accept this part of my life now. I stare back, suggesting he do the same about his position. The one he never wanted but is rapidly adjusting to, learning to appreciate the perks of sitting on the throne.

“What will you do about Emmanuel?”

“Nothing. Your friend took care of it.” Henry’s ice-blue eyes meet mine, and I don’t miss the lust swirling through them. “Damon’s made sure Emmanuel’s influence on the priesthood is waning and I’m certain he’ll take over. As he was supposed to before he left to serve your father.”

I smile as he turns the shower off and wraps me in a towel, watching as I comb and dry my hair. I stare at the reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl staring back at me. She’s tired. Weary. Her eyes are sunken and they’ve lost theirbrightness. Her cheeks have hollowed and the lines of her body are sharper now she’s lost her curves.

She’s the girl who emerged from the dungeons. Beaten, but not quite broken. Somehow still living. Clinging to some version of life she’ll endure for however many centuries it is, waiting for it to turn into more than an eked-out existence. When she’ll get to walk in the sun again and see its colors light the sky as it falls and rises.

“You’re still beautiful,” Henry says, catching my eye in the reflection. “Even though you’re half-starving yourself.”

I smile faintly and turn around. I’ve barely eaten in days and Henry’s about ready to insist on feeding me. The cravings are becoming as bad as the torture of turning, and my mouth waters at the thought of sinking my teeth into something and draining it dry.

It’s barbaric. Disgusting.

It’s fucking glorious and I need my fucking fix.

“Please eat, lea. For me. For my sake.”

I shake my head, and Henry loses patience. His arms wrap around my waist and he hauls me into our sitting room, ignoring my flailing arms and kicking legs. He sits and pulls me over his lap, delivering a single hard smack across my ass and its snap stops all the sounds of protest.

“On your knees, lea.”

His hands guide me to my knees and I sit in front of him, slowly moving into position. Henry waits, determined to make me perform this ritual—our ritual—properly.

He needs it. I need it. We need it.

Henry smiles and gets up, leaving me alone for the first time in weeks. I close my eyes and let the darkness wash over me, finding peace in the still, quiet place coming to mind. I’m doing nothing more than resting, sitting motionless as theworld spins around me. It turns on my axis, orbiting my center and I do nothing, letting my thoughts stop as I wait, needing nothing more than Henry’s return.

He knows it. I know it.

And I need the peace.

“Good girl.”

He sits and my head drops onto his knees, resting on him as he strokes it, and my soul settles further. Henry’s as much my calm as I am his, and we spiral around each other, finding safety in each other. I need his controlled hardness, and he needs my strong softness. We match and balance like a harmony in counterpoint, always playing with and against ourselves. He’s the rhythm to my melody and his beats dictate my notes, setting me free to play on the base he carries beneath me.

“Open for me, lea.”

My head lifts and he smiles, his eyes alight with the desire. It’s always there, never faltering, always growing and I adore him for it. I love his fierceness as well as his gentleness, his heat and his cool. The harsh, soft edges he shows me and only me, the intimacy we share in the bond connecting us.

My fangs elongate and the prick feels unnatural. The sensation is still new and it tingles, making me uncomfortable. Henry arches his eyebrow, lifting his hand away from the glass and letting the smell of blood catch my attention. He brings the glass close to my head and I stare at it, practically drooling over the viscous liquid it contains, despite the protest my head screams my heart ought to make.

“I don’t like asking twice, lea.”

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