Page 44 of The Pureblood Daughter
The thought sends her head spinning, and she shoves it down, along with all the other things she can’t bring herself to face right now.
Adelina’s heart thrums against her ribs, and there’s a brief moment of consideration. She imagines for a second how it would feel to pin the young woman against the far wall and draw her teeth down her neck, to prick her smooth skin and—
“That isnotnecessary,” Adelina snaps, holding up a hand and turning her head away. She refuses to look up again until the maid has returned the neck of her dress to its rightful place, but even then, the desire still stirs in her belly, coiling like a snake along a sunny garden path.
What’s happening to me?
She’s never had such vulgar urges, has never imagined what the blood pumping beneath someone’s skin might taste like going down her throat. Now, between her feverish dreams and nightmares, it’s one of the few things she can think about—blood, Theodore, and the lies she’s built the foundation of her life upon.
“Should you change your mind, you need only call.” The maid stands from the bed, her head dipped ruefully. “Shall I draw up a bath, miss? Perhaps it’ll ease your discomfort.”
“Yes.” Adelina presses a hand against her forehead and finds it drenched in a cold sweat. “And I’ll have a glass of wine.”
A short time later, the chandelier has been lit, and Adelina basks in the candlelight, submerged up to her neck in the warm bathwater, a glass of wine held in one hand. The carafe sits on a small table beside the metal tub, the dark red liquid shimmering in the low light. She’s topped off her glass once already, and the alcohol chases some of the strain from her troubled mind.
Along with the wine, the maids brought up a platter of fruit, bread, and delicate cheeses. Adelina reaches out, her hand dripping, and plucks a ripe grape from the stem. She’s just pressed it past her lips when a soft knock sounds on the door.
“Come in,” she calls, her voice lilting gently, softened by the wine.
The door opens, then closes a moment later, and boots tread across the hardwood floor. A scent swirls through the room—at once smoky and sweet—and she closes her eyes to breathe it in. She never noticed the smell before, but now it seems to follow him wherever he goes.
Theodore steps into her line of sight, and the look of him sends heat into her belly. His dark hair is tousled, his green eyes sharp in the candlelight, and the cut of his jaw, stubbled at this late hour, makes her want to nip him just to see how he tastes.
“It seems I’m interrupting,” he says, his voice low. His gaze moves toward the bathwater.
Made more confident by the wine, Adelina stretches herself out in the tub just so, allowing her breasts to peek over the surface of the water. A muscle strains in Theodore’s jaw as he looks away, and Adelina lifts the wineglass to her lips with a satisfied smirk.
“Not at all,” she says, reaching out to pluck another grape from the stem. “I’d hoped you’d visit tonight.”
“Is that so?” He quirks a brow, and then his gaze shifts again to the bath before refocusing on her face.
The strain to behave himself, evident in the way he clenches his hands and holds them behind his back, makes Adelina feel powerful. She’s never been wanted before, not in the wayheseems to want her, and the very thought of it sends euphoria singing through her veins. She wants him to want her, to desire her, to touch her in ways she’s never been touched.
“Bathe with me,” she says, her tone low and drenched in red wine. She lifts one leg from the water, and it drips and shines in the candlelight cast by the chandelier overhead.
The viscount’s eyes narrow as she takes another sip from her glass.
“You mustn’t tempt me, Miss Gray. I do endeavor to conduct myself with propriety.”
There it is again, that muscle twitching along his jaw, tension clear in the way he holds himself, as if a momentary lapse in control would send them spiraling into depravity.
But that’s exactly what she wants.
For all her life, she’s been the good girl, the obedient girl, the one who follows the rules and does as her parents say and dares not step a slippered toe out of line. But where did that get her? She’s been lied to, deceived, made feeble and ill, and for what? The question has no answer—not until she can look her father in the eye and demand he tell her everything.
Adelina finishes off what remains of the wine, then lets the wineglass tip over the rim of the basin and tumble to the hardwood floor. It shatters upon impact, sending shards of sparkling glass across the floorboards and about the tub. Adelina slips one arm from the water and reaches for a shard. She fingers the piece of broken glass, her eyes holding Theodore’s.
He watches her with a hot-blooded gaze as she lifts the shard into the candlelight. If he knows what she intends to do, he doesn’t move to stop her.
She draws the sharp edge of the glass across the delicate skin below her clavicle, and the pain is sudden and sharp. A small gasp slips from her lips as blood wells along the line and slides down her chest and over her breast, gathering atop her nipple before dripping into the water, where it disperses in a murky cloud.
In the space of time it takes to blink, the viscount is at the door, his hand on the heavy lock. The tumbler falls into place with a resounding clunk, and then he’s turning ever slightly, looking back over his broad shoulder, his green eyes gone dark.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, and she’s not sure whether to feel afraid or aroused.
Theodore moves with inhuman speed, his body evanescing from beside the door before reappearing alongside the tub. He kneels slowly, his eyes on hers, his face so close she could count the thick dark lashes lining his green-black eyes.
Reaching out, he presses his finger against the bleeding wound. Adelina draws a breath as he traces the line of blood down her chest, her skin white-hot beneath his touch. He trails a fingertip over her breast, and she tips her head back as he circles her nipple, the blood creating crimson patterns on her puckered skin.
