Page 26 of Blood Descendants
The breath catches in my throat. All of my internal organs freeze. My body locks in place, completely overwhelmed.
But as Ares’ lips part slightly, and as his tongue teases my lips, begging me to play my part, I tell my body to simply feel. To push out every thought. My body knows exactly what to do, even if my brain can’t quite catch up or make sense of any of this. But my hands, my mouth, they know exactly what they need to do.
My hands slide up Ares’ chest. Hard lines and ridges are obvious through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. And I wonder if he has to work out to have a chest like that or if it’s just a bonus of being a blood-sucking immortal. My lips have no hesitationto that last thought, though, as I kiss Ares in return. They part, granting him access. His tongue is demanding and curious. He tips me back just a little, deepening the kiss, stealing the breath right from my lungs.
And it’s at least ten solid seconds before I realize the crowd surrounding us is clapping and cheering.
Ares releases me, and I blush when I realize there are dozens of people watching us.
“Congratulations!” someone shouts. “Kiss her again!” someone else yells. “Take it to your room,” yet another mumbles.
Ares turns to the crowd with that gleeful, mischievous smile. “Thank you,” he offers. “I will, and it’s our next stop.” I realize then that he’s answering the callouts thrown at us.
I offer one embarrassed smile before Ares tugs me to him again, his hand cupping the side of my neck. With that devious smile, he pulls me in, taking my mouth as his own.
A girl could get used to this. Ares is, without question, the best kisser I’ve ever touched lips with. Sensuous, dark, greedy, hungry, his mouth conveys a million claims. And I breathe in every one.
The crowd goes wild again. And this time, it’s me who starts smiling.
“You like that attention, Vengeance?” Ares asks against my mouth.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with the crowd, Venom,” I say, knowing I’ll most likely regret the honesty.
There’s a low rumble at the back of his throat, and he doesn’t say anything more for a moment. Let him process that as he will.
But after a few moments, he steps back just slightly. He waves another thanks at the crowd. “I think we better get out of here before someone calls the cops for public indecency,” he jokes. Then he looks back over at me. “Time to go home, fiancée.”
Chapter 8
Ihear her scream. As I run through the dimly lit hallway, Ophelia’s terrified screams reverberate in my brain.
My legs pump harder. Faster. She screams again, and I hear the sound of flesh meeting flesh.
Fight back,I mentally beg her.
I don’t slow as I reach the door at the end of the hall. I turn my right shoulder to it and barrel straight into it. It splinters as I explode through it, and I stumble into the room.
Ophelia gasps, scrambling back on the bed. She’s wearing nothing but her underthings, and her wrists are bound. Blood drips from her neck and her nose. She’s covered in a random constellation of bruises.
And a faceless man turns toward me, a primordial growl raging up his throat.
I get half a second to pull the gun from the back of my pants before he pounces.
Before I can get a shot off, his body lands on top of me—and I jerk up from the bed with a yell.
My right arm is extended, but there’s no gun in my hand.
There’s no faceless man.
And no Ophelia bound on a bed.
“Lana?”
I jump at the worried call from down the hall and flinch harder when, less than a second later, Ares barrels his way into the bedroom. His eyes are brilliant red, his nostrils flared. His eyes scan the room, and the tension in his body says he’s ready to tear the world apart. “What is it?” he growls.
I take a shallow breath, quickly followed by another. “No… nothing,” I barely get the words out. “I… it was just a bad dream. I found Ophelia. There was a man there…” I shake my head, willing the image away because the thought that it might be real makes me want to spiral.
Some of that tension seeps out of Ares, and I feel his eyes shift to me. He’s quiet for a long moment. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I focus on blacking out the dream, erasing it bit by bit. With my eyes squeezed closed, my hands shaking, I force myself to take slower breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth.
