Page 12 of Immortal Bastard

“Please!” Her hysterical plea was lost against the tight grip of his hand covering her mouth.

Her breath beat against his fingers and her muzzled scream was lost. Eyes wide, she watched in horror as a hot flood of blood trailed down her breasts and thighs, spattering over the white leather chair and pooling at her knees.

Realizing he must have cut her throat, her panic doubled and tears gathered in her eyes. She fought, but his hold was unbreakable.

Then his hand pulled away and she screamed, evacuating every breath from her lungs. His forearm covered her gaping mouth, hot copper burned her tongue and she choked on the unmistakable taste of blood.

“Drink.”

Gagging and struggling, she tried to break free and shove his arm away. Tried to scream. His hold was so tight, so constricting, she could barely breathe.

“You must swallow, Delilah! Be calm and do as I say.”

Fatigue slammed into her, nearly knocking her out, but her throat instinctively swallowed, much like an infant nursing at a mother’s breast. Her sluggish thoughts slowed and her fear muted. She became estranged from her panic.

His hips flexed, his body still inside of hers. She detached—from herself, from him, from all the inexplicable.

A low purr emanated from his chest. She sensed his deep satisfaction but would likely die before ever understanding what would push a man to do this to her.

How much blood had she lost?

He was killing her. She could feel the life-sapping from her body.

Why?

It was the only thought she could hold.

Why? Why would he do this to her?

Then a calm blackness moved in like a quiet storm darkening the light into shadows that stretched across her peripheral.

Tears spilled from her eyes, but she no longer fought him. His hold loosened, but it was too late. She was too weak.

“Hush now, pintura. I have you.”

Tears leaked from her unblinking eyes as she unwillingly lost her grip on reality. She hated him, but she hated herself more for trusting a stranger.

Then, even her hate became too much to bear so she had no choice but to let it go. Sweet surrender engulfed her and there was no more fear, no more pain. She was finished. Empty. Depleted. Over.

His grip on her throat loosened and she weakly gagged. He covered her mouth, his thumb petting softly over her lips. “Shh…You must keep it down, Delilah.”

Blood settled like tar into her stomach. She swayed with queasiness, revolted by the way he stroked her. The room turned on end as he cradled her body to his, no longer inside her. Thoughts fragmented into partial syllables she couldn’t string together.

Her vision blurred with more unshed tears.

Weak. She was so weak.

Soft hums whispered in the dark shadows of her fading conscience. Blinking up at the hard angles of his face, she sensed a strange tenderness.

“Why?” she rasped, a steady stream of tears leaking from her eyes as she lay broken, battered, and bloodstained in his arms.

He held her the way a parent might hold and comfort a child. “Because you are mine.”

She shivered, her body numb and cold. Her heart struggled to beat. It was too much.

Her breathing slowed and her body chilled as the last of her straining muscles gave out. Her lashes lowered. She dropped into nothingness as the blackness swallowed her.

No more pain. No more fear.

---