Page 39 of Their Blood Rite

‘Stop!’ I scream, agonising sobs strangling my voice so nothing comes out but a gasp. ‘Please!’

I can’t move. Cole is suddenly covered in blood. His face is half melted away. With a sneer, he plunges a knife into my side. I scream, pulling against the ropes and thrashing as he twists the blade.

‘Blood witch,’ he snarls. ‘I’ll make you pay. I’ll make you scream.’

I throw back my head and scream as he stabs me, over and over, counting with each thrust.

One. Two. Three.

‘Look at me!’ he demands. ‘I SAID LOOK AT ME AS I KILL YOU!’ I try to pull away, avoiding his fingers as they grab my face. ‘Furatus aer, Ashe. Now you belong to me. You are mine! Furatus aer.’

‘No!’ I sob, knowing he has me under control. Knowing I belong to him. ‘LET ME GO!’

He grabs my face. But when I look, it’s not Cole.

Now it’s Shaw.

‘It’s a nightmare,’ he says.

There’s no blood to be seen. No anger on his features. His vivid green eyes search mine, flicking left to right as he reads me.

His palm rests flat on the place Cole just stabbed me. There’s no wound. No pain.

‘I’m dreaming?’ I ask.

He nods. ‘Just a dream, Pixie. Your dream. You tell it what to do.’

I slam my forehead into his, punch him in the face, and when he falls, I leap on top of him. Before he can react, I lean down and kiss him. He doesn’t hesitate and rolls me over, so he’s on top. His kiss is deep and demanding. I want his kiss. But not on my mouth. My fingers knot inhis hair, and I push him down. His crooked smile goes willingly, and his face gets lost between my thighs.

‘Fuck…’ I whisper, feeling his tongue in all the right places. My hips lean into him, and he moans as he devours me.

Why not? It’s my fucking dream.

And what a dream…

Iwake with a start, sitting with the same moan escaping from my lips that I had in my dream.

I slam my hands over my mouth to stop it from being heard. To stop it shaking the walls. My thighs press together, and I swear I can still feel him there. Feel his tongue and fingers.

A soft chuckle has my gaze on Shaw. He’s sat on a chair with his feet on the end of my bed. His arms are folded, and he looks at me with amusement.

‘Good dream?’ he drawls.

‘Not particularly,’ I lie, still feeling the fading promise of the orgasm.

I pull the silk sheet up higher, covering my naked body as I shuffle further up the bed, keen for any extra distance between us.

My senses are returned. My body, although aching, is mine once more. I have strength. Awareness. And thankfully, the urge to vomit has passed.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asks. ‘Hungry? Tell me what you want, and I’ll see if we can get it for you.’

‘I’m not eating anything you give me,’ I retort. ‘Filthy bloodsucker. I won’t fatten myself up to feed you and your friends.’

He releases a soft laugh and shakes his head.

‘We shall see how long that lasts, Pixie.’

‘Quit calling me Pixie. My name is Ashe.’

---