Page 24 of Bloodstained
The lump in my throat nearly strangled me. “I know,” I whispered. “I know, Mom.”There was nothing left to say. I ended the call before the sound of her crying could destroy me.
The phone felt heavier than it should as I set it down. Ivan still hadn’t moved. His eyes were dark, unreadable, but the surrounding air had shifted. It was less menacing now and filled with dark hunger.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. I stood trembling, heart in pieces, caught somewhere between rage, relief, and something I didn’t want to name.
“You’re welcome, Clara.”
I turned toward the window, but his hand caught my wrist. The jolt of it stole my breath. He didn’t squeeze—just held me, his thumb brushing the pulse that thundered beneath my skin. His eyes locked on mine, and for the first time, the hunger in them was unmasked. Not for blood but hunger for me.
“You dream of me,” he said. Not a question. A truth. “You always have. You just didn’t know who I was until now.”
My mouth opened, but no denial spilled out. He was right. Ihaddreamt of him my entire life. Sometimes just flashes of a shadowed face or of a voice calling my name. Other times, especially since I’d come to Romania, they’d been more intimate… more revealing.
And here in this castle, they’d grown darker. I could feel the ghost of his lips at my throat, the weight of his hands on my bare skin, and the sensation of those sharp teeth breaking skin and sinking deep into my neck.
“I don’t?—”
He was in front of me before I could finish, his body a blur of movement that stole the air from the room. Instinct made me hold my breath, and I tipped my chin back as I met his gaze. For an instant, everything felt achingly familiar, like I’d stood in this exact moment before, reaching for him in another time.
A yearning rose inside me, deep and raw. It felt like something that had always lived in my bones waiting to be remembered.
“Ivan.” His name fell from my lips in a whisper, soft and desperate, more plea than anything else.
His focus dropped to my mouth, his gaze heavy-lidded, his expression twisting with hunger and something dangerouslyclose to worship. The air thickened, vibrating between us. I knew then that whatever line existed between us was about to shatter.
Whatever I might have said dissolved when Ivan’s mouth crashed down on mine. The kiss stole my breath and my reason.
For a heartbeat, it was soft, tentative, as if he expected me to push him away. I should have. But my lips parted for him, surrendering. Ivan’s control broke. His tongue slid against mine, coaxing, claiming, until my knees nearly gave out.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a possession. Raw, demanding, and a claim that reached past my skin and marrow, down into the part of me I’d never dared name.
I hated myself for it, hated the way my fists curled into his shirt, dragging him closer instead of shoving him back. Heat coiled low in my belly, sharp and dangerous, like stepping into fire willingly.
He moved us until the cold pane of glass was at my back, unyielding. But his body pressed to mine was the total opposite. One of his hands slid up my spine, slow and deliberate, until his palm cupped the nape of my neck. Then he shifted, fingers circling my throat—not to squeeze but to hold me there, to anchor me while his mouth devoured mine.
The weight made me slightly shake. I sagged into him, letting his strength hold me up because my own had drained.
He tore his mouth from mine after what felt like forever, leaving me gasping. Soft, helpless sounds spilled from me before I could stop them. But Ivan wasn’t done. Not even close.
His lips trailed down my jaw, sensually, calculated, until they found the hollow beneath my ear where my pulse hammered like it wanted to break free. His tongue swept over the spot, tasting, teasing, and I tipped my head back without thought, offering him more.
“You were mine once,” he murmured against my skin, voice low and rough, like gravel wrapped in velvet. “And you still are.You’ve taken a new name, lived another life, but you’re the same woman who’s held my heart for centuries. You always will be.”
The words hit that something deep inside me again, something that shouldn’t have existed. Images flared behind my eyes, vivid and wrong and yet… familiar. I saw firelight flickering over stone walls, felt his hand covering mine, his thumb tracing lazy circles across my palm. I heard his voice. It sounded deeper, older, and thick with an accent that I used to long to hear. I closed my eyes and heard him whisper my name like a prayer.
My beloved.
He’d said it with such reverence that my chest ached with it now.
A broken sound escaped me. I clutched his arms, the hard muscle beneath my palms grounding me as the visions burned through me. “Ivan…” His name left me on a gasp, raw and pleading. I didn’t even know what I was asking for. Only that I needed him closer.
He grazed his teeth over the mark he’d left on my neck days ago, and my body arched toward him in a reflex I couldn’t control. A small, desperate moan slipped out. Shame should have followed, but all I felt was heat.
Ivan’s hand slid down, splaying over my hip, his fingers biting into the thin fabric of my robe as he dragged me against him. The solid, unmistakable press of his erection against my belly stole what little breath I had left. My pulse fluttered wildly, and my body—traitorous and aroused—responded before my mind could catch up.
I was wet. Achingly so. I pressed my thighs together, though it did nothing to cool the ache. I should have fought. Should have pushed him away, screamed, clawed…something.He was my captor, after all.
But when I met his gaze… those dark, endless eyes filled with centuries of hunger and something dangerously close totenderness, I didn’t move. Instead, my chin tilted, baring my throat to him in silent surrender.
