Page 158 of The Vampire's Thirst
“While millions can’t, you should. Stop being so damn hard on yourself.”
“I could have killed you.”
“You didn’t. I held my own. Isn’t that the purpose of the Bludhunt? To make certain we weaklings are deserving of your precious vampire sperm. After all, can’t have your breed hooking up with a lame-ass human female who would pollute your pure vampire blood. Like Braelyn, I proved I’m strong enough to mate you. Give me the kudos I earned.”
He patted her ass. “Done.”
She pushed to her knees, flipped over, and rested against the headboard. “Come here. Let me heal you.”
“No. I deserve every fucking pain I have.”
“You love to suffer. Here’s the thing. You were aggressive. More than a little scary. I give you that. But I must be wacky because I kinda liked you scary and doling out the wild sex. A repeat performance would be most welcome. Not all the time. Occasionally. You don’t regret we are mated, do you?”
After the banquet, Dax had dragged Chiara to their bedroom, sex on his mind and an obvious boner chafing against his zipper. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to carry out any of his wicked plans before he collapsed onto the floor, holding his stomach, writhing. The last thing she heard was him shouting “Larissa.” Then poof. Her molecules scattered.
She materialized in a barren cave alongside the high priestess of the Bludhunt, a nightmare cloaked in red, her bearing regal, her eyes cold.
Dax popped in snarling, about to jump out of his skin, his muscles bulkier, his build bigger. That wasn’t his only upgrade for the situation. His dumb-ass fangs were longer and sharper. The bones in his cheeks were knife-sharp, and his crimson-streaked irises were like poison darts.
Larissa, living up to her rep as the stately bitch in charge of making sure the vampire breed stayed strong, had highlighted what was about to happen before she spoke a few words in a language Chiara didn’t understand. Then Dax attacked, his goal being to subdue her. Her goal was to survive. She fought back, proving she was made of the right stuff. After countless bumps, scrapes, and spells, they had amazing but rough sex while they exchanged blood. More than once. By the end of the rite, Chiara was limp from numerous orgasms, branded, and happy.
Grunting, Dax rested his head in her lap, his long black hair fanning out across her thighs. Guilt shadowed his midnight eyes while he sawed his molars back and forth.
Chiara put her fingers to his temples. Pressing, she rubbed in small circles, channeling healing through her touch. Dax’s wounds were not all on the outside. They festered inside, making him sometimes cruel and self-destructive. “I asked you a question.”
He closed his eyes, his thick lashes laying in lacy arches on his cheeks. His snarls turned to moans as the muscles in his jaws loosened and his breathing relaxed. He looked at peace.
Chiara’s magic touch soothed him, calming his angry beast. Years ago, when he had saved her from a burning car, he’d unknowingly activated a Blood Coven descendant’s power which she used to survive a perilous childhood. Now she repaid him by healing his mind, by loving him. She had found this extraordinary man, this vampire, and she was never giving him back.
Dax remained silent for so long, she thought he was asleep or had forgotten her question. Finally, his lids flicked open, his black eyes soft rather than sinister. “Little witch, I will never regret mating you. If all the terrible things I have done or experienced have led me to this moment, I would live them all again to be here with you.”
Chiara swallowed tears as she continued to trace light circles on her man’s temples. Four giant wolfhounds chose that moment to jump on their bedroom door, wanting inside.
Dax pushed off the bed, striding naked toward the noise, his black hair swishing across his back, his muscles flexing with each step. “I’ll get them.”
Softie.
****
Indigostrolled the banks of the River Am. Arisen Dawn was licking its wounds. For now.
Her job allowed no respite, though. So, here she was, steeling her nerves, preparing to gaze into the turbulent river upstream where she saw all possible futures before one roiled into the present. Some good. Some bad. All overloading her mind, driving her closer to a breakdown.
She flopped onto the grass, drew up her knees, and gathered her flowing skirt around her ankles. Not ready for the task yet, she pressed her palm to a heart which sat in her chest like a heavy coffin. She pushed against the ache, the ache for peace.
Removing cowgirl boots, Indigo wiggled her toes.Aah. If only her mind could be freed the same way. Grab a heel. Tug. Slide. Release.Nope. The burden still weighed on her heart.
Why me?
She angled her gaze toward the sky. High above, Oskar drifted on an air current, squawking to get her attention. “Naughty gryphon,” she shouted, motioning the conjured beast to sit beside her, his sharp eyes not missing the gesture.
Her gryphon was unique. His head and wings were an eagle, his neck and torso a dragon’s neon green scales, his haunches and feet a lion. When he swooped beside her, his massive head butted her shoulder. “You are so needy.” She petted the creature, her warrior, her confidant, her alter ego.
He purred. If a gryphon could be said to do that.
Indigo looped an arm over his neck, not able to go halfway around it. “You’ve been with me since I was a wee witchling, Oskar. You know me best. Will the river drive me mad?”
She gazed into his darting eagle eyes. “What’s that you say? I already am?”
