Page 15 of Forever Bound

He looks away from me, but I feel his need for blood.

I look back at the painting, more pieces clicking. "When that monster injures you, it doesn't heal like normal, does it?"

"No," he says.

"You need blood to heal," I say.

He nods.

I sigh.

Shit is complicated in this little village.

I glance once more at his collection of grotesque art, then take his hand and drag him back to the bedroom. I find my backpack by the side of the bed and pull out the stake. He narrows his eyes at me but doesn't move. I make him sit on the bed, and I sit next to him.

"The village thinks you are killing people. They wanted me to kill you. Do you understand?"

He shakes his head and frowns.

I toss the stake into the fire pit. "We need to make them see the truth," I say. "But first, you have to heal."

I tilt my head, exposing my neck. "Can you feed from me without killing me?" I ask.

He shakes his head and moves away from me.

Ugh. Men. "You were totally the type who refused to go to the doctor when you were sick, weren't you?" I ask, but he doesn't understand. I might as well be talking to myself.

I'm about to berate him some more, but he groans, and I see blood seeping through his shirt. I step over to him and lift the fabric to check the wound. It's deep. Gouging. Fatal.

He doubles over, crashing onto the mattress with a deep moan, his eyes fluttering closed.

Shit.

I don't even know his name, I realize, as I try to revive him. "Hey there. Wake up. Come on, you can't die on me."

The glint of a knife on the table by the bed catches my eye, and I know what I must do.

Without pausing to think too long, I take the blade and slice it up my arm. The sting comes a moment later, followed by a deep and painful ache. I hold my arm over his lips, forcing the blood into his mouth. It doesn't take long for him to latch on and begin sucking.

The pain recedes almost instantly, turning to the most intense pleasure I've ever felt.

My arousal is instant and all consuming, but there's little I can do about it.

I'm entirely too lightheaded by the time his hunger is satiated, and I fall onto the bed beside him, exhausted, as we both sleep off our attacks.

Hours later, I'm woken by a gentle hand on my arm. "What have you done?" he asks.

In perfect English.

I open my eyes in surprise and find myself staring into his. "You speak my language now?"

He frowns and shakes his head. "No. I do not. It's much more complicated than that."

I sit up in the bed. Our bodies are touching, our emotions wrapped around each other's. "Explain then."

He caresses my face with his hand, and it sends a shiver up my spine. "What is your name?"

"Evangeline Love," I say. "But my friends call me Angel. Or Love."

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