Page 46 of The Pureblood Daughter
Adelina gasps. Her first instinct it to jump to his aid, to call the maids and demand they bring bandages and antiseptic at once, but that thought is quickly overshadowed by another.
Blood gathers along the thin cut, welling up before spilling over, running down his forearm and toward his clean white shirt. She is entranced by it, hypnotized as it rolls across his unblemished skin. Before she can stop herself, she’s wrapping her hands around his forearm and bringing her tongue to his skin, drawing it up along the line of blood until her teeth are at his wrist.
There’s an aching in her gums, the feeling similar to when her third molars were coming in, and then relief as her fangs pierce his skin, sink deep into his tender flesh.
Theodore flinches, and she tightens her grip on his arm like a lioness sinking her claws into her prey. Her eyes close, and she’s lost in the ecstasy of his blood, in the velvet sensation of it coating her tongue, dripping down her throat like nectar. It feels as if she’s been dying of thirst, and his blood is her only respite.
“Easy,iubit,” he whispers as she draws in more,more. His hand comes around the back of her head, fingers pressing through her hair. She thinks he’ll pull her away, deny her this rapture, so she sinks her fangs in deeper, eliciting from him something between a hiss and a moan.
In a breath, he pulls her into his lap, his wrist still trapped between her jaws, and wraps his other arm about her, cocooning her there, protecting her. His arousal is hard beneath her, pressing against her tender folds, and she longs to tug his trousers off and feel his length slide inside her. The thought of feeling him deep within her body while his blood slips down her throat is almost enough to send her into another spasm of pleasure.
Blinking, she finds herself coming up for air, gasping for breath like she’s been too long underwater. Theodore’s wrist is held in her grasp, two round wounds marring his skin, filling with blood before overflowing once more.
“I...” Her breathing accelerates, her gaze following the blood as it slips down his forearm and stains his white sleeve red. “I’m sor—”
He takes her by the chin and tips her head back, and then his mouth is on hers. He kisses her with voracity, his tongue darting out to lap the blood from her lips. His hardness throbs beneath her, making her moan. She reaches up and tangles her fingers in his hair, draws him against her, gets lost in his taste until he finally pulls away. An irritable hiss slips from her lips, but Theodore still doesn’t let her have her way.
Forehead pressed to hers, he whispers, “Don’t ever apologize for who you are.”
Leaning back, she gazes into his green eyes, sees her own reflection shimmering in them. There’s blood on her lips, which are plump from Theodore’s kiss, and her hair is blissfully tousled.
“So,” she whispers, “I really am a...”
Theodore waits patiently, one thumb tracing circles on her hip bone while his other hand plays with a strand of her hair. The candlelight casts dancing shadows across his face, accentuating the stubble on his jaw.
“A vampire.”
Admitting it aloud feels as odd as she expected, yet somewhere deep inside her, there’s a hint of familiarity, ofremembrance. And somehow, it feels like she’s exactly where she belongs.
Chapter Nineteen
When Adelina awakens in thedarkened room, the space Theodore occupied in the bed is empty. The sheet is wrinkled, and when she trails her fingertips across it, the fabric is cool to the touch; he’s been gone some time now.
Memories of their evening come back to her like waves kissing a shore: his hand slipping under the water, how his fingers felt inside her. The place between her legs throbs. She reaches beneath her chemise, goes to that spot, and her fingers come away wet. She considers indulging. It would be easy, thinking about her lips at his wrist, his arousal hard beneath her.
But a knock at the door has her gritting her teeth, and her voice is terse when she says, “Come in.”
The same young maid enters, her face and caramel eyes bright, and she curtsies before approaching.
“Good morning, miss. It appears you slept well. Your countenance is much improved.”
Cheeks warming, Adelina lifts a hand to her lips as if she expects Theodore’s blood to still be staining them. Then her gaze shifts to the heavy draperies still obscuring the window; the maid can make out her color in the low light?
“What is your name?” she asks.
The maid smiles before crossing the room and taking hold of the draperies. “Amélie, miss.” She flings the heavy material back, and sunlight bursts into the room, making Adelina wince.
It feels like she’s spent a lifetime in darkness, and the light is as foreign as the view out the tall arched window. The last time she was outside, she and Theodore were fleeing her family’s manor, though that is one memory she’s in no hurry to relive.
“Are you a... avampir, Amélie?” she asks, her eyes moving to the maid as she crosses the room to Adelina’s bedside.
“I am, miss.” Amélie folds her hands and bows her head politely. “I’m ajumatate sânge. A half blood.”
Adelina ponders the unfamiliar language, which sounds strikingly familiar to Italian—Romanian, she believes. “A half blood? Half human, half vampire?”
Amélie nods. “For a half blood, there is no greater honor than serving the purebloods.” She turns her head to the side and gestures to her neck. The daylight reveals small round scars marring her skin. “It would be a privilege to share my blood with you, miss. Do you desire to feed?”
Adelina’s instinct is to say no, as she did the first time Amélie offered, but her body has another idea. The maid has a pleasant scent, light and floral, and it makes Adelina wonder how her blood would taste compared to the viscount’s.
