Page 55 of His to Haunt

“You do make me feel, Leena,” he whispers into my mouth, lapping me with his silken tongue, his full lips pressing into mine like warm taffy. I’m reduced to butter.

Elder

Zand

Like the final touch in a dessert nearing perfection, her tears flow onto my lips, mixing with her sweet taste.

“I need to know what happened to her,” she cries, and my desire to lie to her hits a sudden wall.

I mentally pound against that wall, but it won’t budge.

“I don’t want to tell you,” I say through gritted teeth, releasing her from the wall. I hand her a blanket to ease her shivering. She sits on the sofa, and I sit near her. She knows that I’m about to confess something, and she’s all ears.

“But you want to tell me, Zand.”

“How can you know that?”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

She blinks, tears trickling down her pale cheeks. I know what those tears taste like, and I want more. I want to make her cry over and over so that I can’t get drunk on the taste of her tears on my tongue.

I look at her lips, remembering, savoring.

“I want you, Leena,” I mutter, my voice low.

Her eyes widen, and she swallows. “Why do you sound so tragic?” she whispers, confusion in her eyes.

I take her hand, bringing it to my mouth. She doesn’t pull away, but she shudders.

“You’re afraid of me,” I say, and she nods. “But you face me because you are brave, Leena. Just like your sister. But, I don’t want…”

I shake my head, standing. I don’t want Leena to suffer the same fate as Rachel. Fuck, I need to drink. Only blood can make me feel better. But then, when I go to the kitchen and pour a shot glass, shooting it down my throat, the expected euphoria is fleeting.

“Kimmie said that your wine tasted like…”

“Blood, yes.”

I turn to her. Fear is in her eyes when she says this, like she is horrified by the thought of it being true. Again, I want to lie.

“Not everything can be explained by the science books,” I offer, grabbing a recent blood sample strip and handing it to her. “The Byron’s have spent centuries looking for blood-type RH-N. The blood of our ancient ancestors. We’ve always taken on jobs that give us access to blood. We study it, you see. If I were to tell you the reason why, you would not believe it. You would reject the idea, and my effort would be pointless. I don’t even want to tell you any of this, anyhow. It’s dangerous information.”

“Then why tell me anything? All I want to know is what happened to Rachel. That’s all. She believed she was in love with a ghost. She was obsessed with—“

“Becoming a vampire.”

She nods at me. “Yes. So, you did know, then.”

“Of course, I knew. It’s what came between us. We tried to warn her, but she is stubborn, hellbent. Typical Byron.”

“So, she must have known that you were searching for this blood type?”

“Yes.”

“Somehow, this transpired into her belief in ancient alien vampires?”

I sigh, sitting beside her on the sofa. Her scent, the taste of her still lingering on my tongue…it’s almost maddening. What is this woman doing to me? My chest fucking burns.

I lean back against the sofa with my arm over it, creating a bit more space.

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