Page 237 of Flirting with Darkness

Davlov led me up a huge wooden staircase and onto another floor. We passed several old doors that must have been bedrooms before he led me up another smaller staircase. There were fewer doors up here, but it didn’t smell damp or unused. Nor did it smell of blood and fear like the top floor of Victor’s house.

Davlov reached out and opened up a room, gesturing for me to go inside. It wasn’t a spoken order, but I was too weary to fight him.

A horrible thought hit me. Perhaps Originals didn’t have the same disgust for half-breed blood. Was I to be a blood slave from now on? Terror made my legs shake, but I fought not to let it show.

His eyes bored into the side of my face as I passed him.

“The bathroom’s through there. Remember if you try to run, the pain will render you unconscious,” he warned. “Go and shower while I find you some suitable clothing. Wait in this room when you’re done.”

Without another look at him, I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. I shucked off my boxers and looked around. It was a luxurious bathroom, modern, clean, and gloriously warm. I swallowed hard, trying to blink away the burn in my eyes. I’d had to use the bathroom shared by the blood slaves. It had been cold, draughty, and old, with no warm water. I’d never been allowed to use a room like this one.

“There are towels in the cupboard, and disposable razors and toothbrushes in the drawers. Help yourself to anything else you need.”

I jumped at Davlov’s deep voice, nodding, though he couldn’t see me through the closed door.

“Thank you,” I bit out on a quiet sob.

No one had ever treated me with such respect, and I was his fucking prisoner. What would he treat his lovers like if this was how he treated his enemies?

There was a large walk in shower, which took me a minute to figure out how to work. I stepped under the hot spray and sighed, feeling my muscles unknot as the tension ebbed from them. Stacked neatly on a built-in shelf were bottles of shampoo and body wash. I picked one up and sniffed. The dark and spicy scent was definitely one Davlov used. That thought heated my whole body. I’d smell like him…like I belonged to him.

I gently rubbed my aching wrists and ankles, hating that I couldn't heal like other vampires, but the memory of the look in Davlov’s eyes as he asked me if I liked being chained made me ache. I groaned, fisting my hard cock and squeezing it tight. I couldn’t lust after my jailer. Not when he would eventually tire of me, then kill me. Desire turned to fear, killing my erection.

Biting my bottom lip, I switched off the water and stepped out, grabbing a large towel from the shelf and drying myself quickly. I frowned at his razor, and the toothbrush in the holder. The thought of a big bad vampire brushing his fangs made me chuckle, but then I sobered.

Oh, gods, this washisbathroom. Why was I in his bathroom instead of a guest one?

My stomach tensed. Was he going to force me to become a sex slave? I swallowed hard. I’d always been something other vampires wouldn’t touch. Was Davlov different? He desired me, that much was clear, but would he act on it? Did I want him to?

Unwilling to overthink it. I wrapped the towel around my waist and went back into the bedroom.

6

DAVLOV

Just as I clicked the bedroom door shut behind me, steam laced with the mixed scent of Elliot, and me, came billowing out of the bathroom, followed by the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. And I’d seen plenty over my lifetime. I was as old as sin, yet nothing had ever affected me like the sight of his steam slick body. His short auburn waves gleamed, damp and finger combed back from his face like a silken halo. His face was pink with heat, the flush creeping down his neck, and his eyes were bright. I swallowed hard. Was that how he’d look when he’d just been fucked? All flushed and sexy?

I raked a hand through my hair and cleared my throat, unable to ignore the need that slammed through me. I gripped hard to the sweats and t-shirt I’d found for him, my nails growing, my gaze travelling over the glistening skin of his chest, across his defined abs to the slim V that led under his towel. But it wasn’t lust that made me frown. Fury lit a fire in my soul, one that had me itching to hunt down and rip apart every single person who’d ever hurt him. He was covered in marks both old and new, and they went below where the waistband of his boxers had hidden them. Scars that stood prominently on his skin, following the contours of his lean muscles as they crossed the dark trail of hair leading below his low slung towel. I’d missed many of the scars in the gloom of the dungeon. He was thin, too thin, but I already knew that. Yet none of it detracted from his beauty.

Fuck me, he was stunning.

Blood rushed to my face, and I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

“...Dav!”

My attention snapped from the dusky pink skin of his nipples up to his face. He looked amused. Shit, he’d called my name several times by the look of it. And I’d been eye fucking him, all while planning a way to kill the vampires who’d left those fucking scars.

I lowered the bundle of clothes, trying to hide the evidence of his effect on me.

“Um, that’s some long claws you’re rockin’ there, jailer,” he said, breaking the tension as we eyed each other warily.

I exhaled heavily, forcing my shoulders down from around my ears. Godsdammit, this young half-breed was tying me in knots. Me, Davlov Zoltar, ancient vampire, personal guard, right hand man, and friend to one of the most powerful vampires in the world.

I couldn’t help my gaze straying to Elliot’s neck, where I could hear his blood pumping. I wondered how he’d taste, what it would feel like to sink my fangs into that soft flesh and feel the warm saltiness of his blood slipping down my throat until we both climaxed from the sheer pleasure of it.

I blinked hard, my face heating more—along with the rest of my body. I bit my bottom lip, almost groaning at the ache in my engorged cock. Shit. Was it obvious why I was keeping that small bundle of clothes in front of my groin? I had to get out of here or I was going to make an utter fool of myself. But what he called me bothered me more than my erection did.

“My name is Davlov, or Dav, whichever you prefer, but not jailer.”

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