Page 33 of The Monster's Desire

If we focus on dark magic, it leaves a stain on the soul. Not all dark magic is inherently evil or bad, but it does tend to be worked for personal gain and without concern for the repercussions on the world.

My soul is very confused at the moment.

A large part of me is horrified by the thought of having a vessel.

The other, dark and dirty, part is dangerously intrigued.

My magic flirtatiously slides over Imogen’s skin. Which is kind of strange, because my magic is literally an extension of myself. Sometimes it fixates on things I have no interest in. It’s why I view it as a separate entity, even though Nan swears that’s impossible.

Shadows circle Imogen, and as soon as they disappear under her skin, I can see something...

I never know how to describe a person’s soul. Maybe it’s just her heart, or even her power, since there’s a lot of debate on whether vampires are soulless creatures.

Imogen is ancient, and I don’t mean that in an insulting way. There are more sire bonds flowing from her than I’veeverseen. A fair number of them have been severed, but her side of the connection is still evident.

Her soul? Power cavity? Heart? I don’t know, but it’s clear she’s not an especially good monster, even for a vampire.

Her aura is dark in a way that suggests she’s a bold and powerful woman. She’s distrustful of others, even those who have given her unwavering loyalty.

“Get on with it,” Imogen hisses. Her hands clench at her sides, like she’s bracing for the inevitable pain.

My magic plucks the different strings. I’m pretty sure it’s testing the strands to determine which one is Echo’s, but honestly, that’s just a guess.

I’m able to pick out his string with little difficulty, so I don’t know why my power is feeling particularly coy about doing the damn thing.

Echo’s line starts a brownish-black, like all of her sire bond strands, but the farther away from Imogen it gets, it transforms into a dark orangey-red.

My magic is still doing its own thing and completely ignoring my instructions. It’s not like I can verbally saydo thisordo that.

Nan swears magic isn’t its own entity, but to me, it’s like a stubborn twitch or when your leg goes to sleep and you try to tell it to walk and instead you nearly fall.

We’re connected, but magic is wild and unpredictable.

My shadows eventually comply and swarm Echo’s sire bond.

Imogen gasps as the cord severs.

Echo whooshes out a breath against my shoulder. He rarely breathes, so feeling the cool exhale against my skin is unexpected.

My magic apparently understands what needs to be done next, because the giant cloud of dark swirling smoke flows out of Imogen and splits into two pieces. Half careens into Echo, and the rest pulses as it flows inside me.

Echo looks utterly bewildered for half a second while my smoke, instead of diffusing through his skin, pours down his open mouth. The pang in my heart is unexpected.

“Bite me,” I say, my voice echoing with my power.

Echo stares at me for several painful seconds before he zips forward. Moving my hair to the side, he strikes my throat without further confirmation.

The pain sizzles like fire before evaporating into mind-blowing pleasure.

This is so not the place to have an unsolicited orgasm.

“Stop,” I hiss.

Echo doesn’t immediately comply. The flick of his cool tongue over my warm skin is tantalizing. My nipples bead, and my pussy throbs with his venom.

As his fangs retract, I’m teetering precariously on the edge. His tongue flicks over the wound, and he looks like he’s heaving breaths.

Which makes no sense, because he doesn’t have to breathe, but it does make me feel pretty damn pleased with myself. Although I’m not sure why.

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