Page 44 of Claiming Her Vampire

I jump off the bed and run into the bathroom. I have to see them for myself. My body is there in a second, standing in front of the mirror. I stare. And stare some more. My once blue eyes are white. Freaking white! How does that happen? I tilt my head back and forth like it might shake the shade out. That’s when I notice my hair. It has white strands. Like I dyed white streaks in it. What the hell?

I don’t acknowledge Ryker when he leans in the doorway.

Am I a mutant vampire? This can’t be real, right? I run my hands over my body, searching for, I don’t know, a tail or something else just as gross. All I feel is muscle where I didn’t have it before. I even cup my breasts, curious if they are bigger. Of course, this is the moment my eyes clash with Ryker in the mirror. Mine are horrified. His flare with heat.

Ignore that.

I move on in my exploration. At the beginning of our relationship, Tom told me I reminded him of a doll. Pouting lips and all. Being a vampire only enhanced that idea. I lean towards the mirror and bare my teeth. I purposely left this for last, looking at the fangs I could feel in my mouth. You would think they would get in the way, slurring your speech or something. I raise my hand to touch the tip of one. I stare down at the red dot on the end of my finger. Deciding which emotion I want to concentrate on more.

Fascination wins.

I bet I can do all the things Ryker can. Maybe not as well yet. I pull on the fire that burns in my stomach, focusing on pulling it up and out. Black streaks bleed into my eyes, and my hands shake violently. I hold them towards the mirror, frowning. A sudden burst of force comes out of them, shattering the glass.

I cover my face with my arms while Ryker swings me in the other direction, putting his back to the flying glass. I stare at him in shock.

“What am I?” I whisper, the sound of glass breaking all around us abrasive to my sensitive ears.

“A warrior,” he smiles proudly. “A beautiful, original warrior.”

“What if I don’t want to be a warrior? Or original?” That nagging voice in the back of my memories is trying to take over.

“Tough shit. It’s a fact,” Ryker says. He glides his finger across my cheek. “Don’t lie to yourself or me. You have always dreamed of being one.”

I lower my eyes, thinking. “So, it would be stupid not to accept such a gift,” I say, my voice hopeful.

“You are not a stupid woman. You are my mate. They sent me a warrior,” he says, awed. He cups my face. “I’m sorry, baby. I would have waited forever for you. I wish Samantha had not taken the choice away from both of us. You deserved to decide the path of your life. I was an asshole.”

“That means a lot,” I say softly. Deep down I know that this is what was meant to happen.

My eyes flicker to his pulse. I lick my lips, smelling the blood from the cuts across his shoulders. My brain changes course quickly, darting from one need to another. The need to drink from him to dose the flames burning in my throat is urgent.

“Hungry?” he rasps.

I nod. That’s all I can think about. My need for him.

“Drink,” he urges. He bends down while palming the back of my head, offering his neck.

I have a brief flash of insecurity, not knowing what to do. But instinctively, my body knows. I open my mouth and strike. I moan when his blood hits my tongue.

I climb his body, locking my legs around his waist. His hand convulses in my hair. As I greedily drink, he turns us, so he is braced against the wall. He groans loudly.

Why did I not want this? I can’t remember the reasons for my doubts. This. This is everything. I want it to go on forever. Desire and passion follow the path of his blood. I slide my hand down his chest. He’s so hard. His muscles contract under my palm. I outline his cock. He’s so hard and ready for me. I want to give him pleasure as he gave me. I dive in with my hand meeting silk over steel. At the first stroke, he growls, pressing me closer to his neck, encouraging me. His breath gasps out when I run my thumb over his head.

Suddenly his hand that was low on my back was ripping my underwear. His fingers find me and plunge inside. I throw my head back, releasing my hold on his neck, his blood running down my chin as I thrust my hips. Every sensation is so enhanced. I revel in the feel of his body, his cock, the ridges of his fingers dragging over me.

“Do I taste good, baby?” he asks. He licks my chin, tasting himself.

“Yes, can I have another?” I groan as he curls his fingers.

“You can have as much as you want, as long as you keep your hand on my cock.” His hips rock when I tighten my grip.

“Deal.” I lick the spot just above his tank. Savoring him, and slid my teeth in slowly this time.

“Fuck yes,” he hisses. The rhythm of his hand increases to match mine.

I whimper, sealing my bite mark and offering my neck. He doesn’t hesitate, hungry for me as much as I am for him. It’s an interesting sensation. The pull of blood from your body is odd, yet the reason behind it—to feed and nourish your mate—fuels you. Having that connection is indescribable.

I am so wet. The sound of it echoes in the room, adding to our encounter. He lifts his mouth from me, blood covering us. Our mouths clash together, teeth, blood, and tongues tangled, possessed with desire.

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