Page 40 of The Pureblood Daughter
The viscount’s hands are around her waist, and then he’s pulled her into his lap, her legs straddling him. His lips pull back, and where smooth teeth were a moment ago are long razor-sharp canines. They’re impossibly white and glisten in the silver moonlight in the rare moments it slips through the storm clouds outside the carriage.
Fear thrums through Adelina’s veins, making her hands tremble more fiercely as she grips the viscount’s jacket. She’s nowhere to run this time, no steed to carry her away.
“Do you fear me?” he asks, his fingers pressing into her hips through the thin layers of her morning dress.
She ponders his question for a moment, and even she is surprised by the answer.
“I fear what you are,” she says gently, releasing the hold on his jacket to reach for that dark curl that has once again slipped across his forehead. “Not who you are.”
A beat of silence passes, and then Lord Rosetti’s hand is around the back of her neck, pulling her face toward his. Their lips meet, and although she’s inexperienced in all things romance, the sensation feels instinctual. She’d always expected a gentleman’s kiss to be polite, proper. This is anything but. This is groping hands and gasped breaths, too much fabric and too little skin.
Her mouth opens, and his tongue is warm against her bottom lip. He draws it in, his teeth sending pinpricks of pain through her as he bites down gently, and she groans. The touch of his mouth on hers—his hand in her hair, her legs gripping his hips—sends her into a frenzy.
She shoves him roughly against the seat and takes his face in her hands, tipping his head back and rising up onto her knees so she’s looking down at him. Her hair falls around them like a veil, enclosing them in a warm secret world as rain patters against the roof of the carriage.
The viscount’s neck is exposed, olive and smooth, and just beneath his skin is a pulse. Once she sees it, the gentle rise and fall of the skin thrumming in rhythm with his beating heart, she becomes entranced. For a moment, she swears she can hear his heartbeat, feel the flow of his lifeblood as it whispers through his veins.
And in her feverish state, she finds herself tightening her hand about his chin, turning his face to the side. He offers a brief moment of resistance, his eyes curious, but she holds firm. Then her lips are at his throat, her teeth gliding across his silken skin, and blood fills her mouth.
Chapter Sixteen
The flavor is at onceboth horrifying and intoxicating.
Metallic and sweet, his blood coats her tongue. It’s warm as it goes down her throat, and only when the heat hits her stomach does she realize what she’s done.
Adelina sits up, and her eyes go wide at the puncture holes in his neck, so perfectly round and beautiful as they fill with blood. The crimson swells and slips down his throat, disappearing into his ivory cravat. His eyes, so green, find hers, and she doesn’t understand what she sees in them. She expected horror, pain, anger; instead, she finds them peaceful, almostrelieved.
“I—”
Her throat closes up, and she pushes back, nearly falling from his lap in her struggle to get away. Her skirts tangling about her legs, she collapses onto the seat across from him and shoves herself as far into the corner as she can go.
“I... I...” Her hands shake violently, erratically.
“It’s okay,” Lord Rosetti whispers. “Adelina, you’re safe.”
Hearing her name on his lips should send a wave of pleasure rolling through her, but all she feels is shame and disgust.
“Wh-what have I done?”
“You’ve done nothing wrong.”
She brushes a finger along her lips, and it comes back painted in crimson. The sight sends her heart galloping, and her breathing becomes shallow. Adelina grasps at her chest, at the tightness spreading through her lungs, her heart, her throat. There’s not enough air in the carriage; she’s going to suffocate with the viscount’s blood in her mouth.
“Adelina. Adelina...”
It sounds like he’s far away, or like he’s speaking to her underwater. He leans forward, and the last thing she sees are his eyes before darkness encroaches on her vision and sends her into the black.
Chapter Seventeen
The air is cool, andAdelina burrows under the blankets when she awakens enough to feel a chill on her nose. Her pillows are plush, the mattress deep and soft. But as she lies in a half-awake state, still trying to rouse from her dreams, she notes the all-encompassing darkness of the room.
Her bedroom is never so dark in the mornings, even with the curtains closed. Perhaps it is night, then, or very early morning, before the sun has slipped into the sky.
She opens her eyes, and they begin to adjust immediately, her vision becoming clear despite the lack of light in the room. The sudden shift further awakens her, and as she sits up, long hair hanging about her shoulders, she remembers.
The rain. The carriage.
The taste of his blood on my tongue.
