Page 9 of Bleeding Love

My body sank deeper into the comfortable bed while the last of my thoughts melted away.

‘He really is handsome. I’m going to kill him tomorrow.’

Chapter 5

Roman

Touchingmagichasalwaysbeen a strange sensation. Being a creature that was neither living nor dead meant that spells didn’t affect me. Witches couldn’t use their mind tricks on me, and they couldn’t attack my body directly with their energy. Containing me with a ward on its own was also impossible unless there was a corporeal barrier reinforced by their spell. They could attack me with physical objects like Celeste had, although that rarely made a difference since I was faster, stronger, and quick to heal.

But I could still feel it as I ran my hand over the spell that surrounded the room the servants had put Celeste in. It rippled under my fingertips while I traced them over the door, tasting my intentions and prodigy in my mind.

‘Clever girl,’ I thought with a smile when I realized what kind of spell she had cast. She obviously did know the limitation of her power against vampires, contrary to what I believed before. She had insisted she wasn’t young, although she couldn’t have been older than thirty years. A mystery, hidden beneath a beautiful, dangerous wrapping that watched me with not enough fear for someone so fragile and delightfully mortal.

I needed to know why.

I turned the door handle slowly so as not to make a sound. Her spell activated, pressing on the wood, but I pushed harder against it. The door opened, and I smiled, watching the tendrils of her magic slide out of my way.

Had it found any ill intentions in my mind, that magic would have turned into solid air. With the door and the walls to serve as a physical barrier between me and the spell, there would have been no way for me to enter without making a commotion loud enough to wake her. But she had miscalculated one thing.

I didn’t want to hurt her.

Closing the door with a soft click, I looked around the quiet room. The only light came from the open shutters of the window, illuminating the space enough even for a human to see the outlines of the furniture. She hadn’t even explored the place, except for the broken window where the ward was showing faint signs of being tampered with. The chilly evening air went right in, turning the room uncomfortably cold for a human being. I ought to fix those soon, or my servants were going to get sick and die again. Unlike her, they didn’t have magic to keep them warm.

I strode to the bed where she was sleeping on her back. She hadn’t bothered with changing into a nightgown or using the covers. She just lay there in her wrinkled dress that had rolled to her knees, her hair fanning her face like a fiery halo.

She didn’t stir even when I sat on the edge of the bed beside her. Judging by her slow breathing and serene expression, she was in a deep sleep, replenishing her powers. I wasn’t sure if anything less than me blasting through the door would have woken her in this state.

With her head tilted to the side, her neck was fully exposed, and the way her pulse vibrated against her skin was making my mouth water. I wanted to taste it again, to drink slowly and deeply. I had so many things I wanted to know—about her age, her magic, her connection to the Order, and the attack from the other night—but mostly I wanted to know why her blood tasted like death and life woven into one.

My fangs pressed on my lower lips, eager to sink into that delicious neck, when I heard the faint buzzing of her ward as if her magic was waking. I shook my head, trying not to think about sucking every last drop running through her veins. If I killed her now, I’d never get my answers, and once dead, she’d be gone forever. I’d never taste her blood again. So no, I wasn’t going to hurt her. I didn’twantto hurt her, I told myself, and her magic quieted in contentment.

Smiling to myself, I watched as Celeste sighed in her sleep, her head cocking to the other side. A strand of hair fell over her face and before I knew it, I was pushing it away. The tip of my finger brushed against her cheek and I frowned when I realized how hot she was to the touch. I moved my palm to her forehead, trying to discern if she was running a fever. Human bodies often suffered all kinds of ailments, but witches were stronger. They could protect themselves, and they healed quickly. So why was she so warm?

I sniffed the air, trying to determine if maybe she had a wound that hadn’t quite healed or got infected. Infections were harder to fight than the common cold.

I studied the long bridge of her nose, her defined cheekbones, and her almost hollow cheeks. Her mouth was small but had a delicate, sensual curve, which no doubt made most men fall to their knees at her command. Her neck was thin enough to show the hint of her veins, so I avoided looking at it for too long, lest my hunger stirred again.

Catching her chin, I turned her head left and right, searching for any hidden injuries.

Nothing.

I slid my fingers over her collarbones until I reached the fabric right between her breasts. A low, breathy sound escaped her lips, and I glanced up, expecting to find her staring at me with a murderous look in her eyes. I was wrong. She didn’t even stir, but her lips parted slightly and her heartbeat quickened.

Was she awake? She didn’t sound awake, and I doubted she would let me get this close if she was. So why was her heart racing? And why did her skin feel even hotter than before?

I pulled my hand away, but she didn’t react. I glanced at her feet. She had taken her shoes off, but she was wearing stockings, so it was hard to tell if she was hurt underneath. Keeping my eyes on her face, I pushed her skirts higher, searching for the edge of her stocking. I removed the strap holding it up, then rolled the fabric down. My mouth fell open as I studied her skin, which was covered with more scars than I had ever seen on a human before. There were no fresh wounds, though, not even a scratch.

I reached for the other stocking, but in my haste, I brushed my fingers on the inside of her thigh. A low moan ripped from her lips and I froze, looking back at her. Her eyes remained closed, but her breathing had turned ragged. The heat coming from her body was so palpable that I didn’t even have to touch her to feel it. Was she…?

I dragged my fingertips against her skin, gently guiding them up her thigh. Another sensual sound escaped her lips, and she tentatively parted her legs, as if inviting me to keep going. Once I reached the apex of her thighs, I ran my thumb over her thin satin undergarments, only to find them soaked. I almost laughed when the realization hit me.

I had heard that witches were insatiable creatures that loved carnal pleasure more than anything else, but I hadn’t encountered one that found my touch pleasant. Even if she was asleep, even if she hated me, Celeste’s body didn’t. Fuck, I was sure that if I slipped my fingers inside of her right now, she’ll clamp right around me while her juices soaked my hand.

I wanted to taste her.

The thought struck me so hard that I froze when I realized I had already slid my fingers under the drenched undergarment and dipped one inside of her. She was warm, so fucking warm, that it felt like my hand was burning.

I looked back at her face. She was sleeping while her body yearned to be fucked, and I was so close to giving it to her. I didn’t even realize when my cock had hardened, but it hurt as it pulsed, constrained by my clothes.

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