Page 54 of The Vampire's Mercy
“Get off me,” I warned, my skin alive with heat.
“I’ve thought of the best punishment for you,” he said in the huskiest of tones, those full lips inches away from mine.
I wanted to vomit, despite my dick stirring to life.
“I know this will be the worst kind of torture for you,” he added.
I squirmed, useless again. “What is it? Sex?”
Erm, that was my first thought?
He smirked, baring his fangs. “Do you want to have sex with me?”
Yes…“I’d rather drink liquid cow shit.”
“Noted. I’ll be sure to have a glass brought to you.” He lowered his face.
Damn balls tightening. Damn dick begging to be free from the pesky confines of denim and cotton encasing it. “Just…just kill me already.”
“You don’t want to die.” His breath caressed my lips. “I can smell the desire to live on you. And I’ll grant you mercy.”
“I don’t want your fucking mercy!” I hissed. I thought about headbutting him, but I’d only crack my head like an egg.
Not tonight, thanks.
“Death is too easy,” he purred. “I likethisalternative better.”
Before I could respond, he drove his fangs into my neck.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PARIS
The searing pain stole my breath away, my body going limp. Cold fire surged through my veins, spreading to my brain.
No. No. No. I knew what he was doing. The worst kind of torture would be to make me like him. A vampire bound to his heart, forever at his mercy, never to see sunshine again, doomed to suck on the blood of innocents.
Drain me dry to the point of death, then feed me his blood. That’s how it worked, right? Well, after he’d approved the new vampire’s life to begin.
Please…please, no…
This was his mercy, huh? I should’ve known. Should’ve anticipated the ultimate of all prick moves.
But he stopped after a few seconds, lifting his head. My blood ran over his lips, his eyes brighter than before.
“Delightful,” he said, bringing his right forefinger to his mouth.
The cold fire continued to flow through my veins, keeping me silent and still.
Silvanus pierced his finger with a fang, blood spilling down it.
Shit…
He brought his finger to my lips, smearing them with his blood. “Be mine to command, Paris Raine. Serve me. Love me. Want me.” He squeezed drops of blood into my mouth.
Oh. Shit.
The taste of all my favorite foods and drinks hit my tastebuds, magnifying within seconds. Ice cold beer, caramel shortbread, a big bag of salted and fried sweet potatoes. Overwhelming, amazing, infuriating.
