Page 45 of Their Blood Rite

‘Oh, I know, Pixie. I gave you fair warning. I offered you a room. Space of your own. A level of freedom. Something a blood bitch like you doesn’t deserve. And minutes later, you try to end your life? We’re blood drinkers, girl. We can smell your insides a mile away. We knew what you had done as soon as you broke the skin. You’re a fucking idiot.’

‘I don’t want to be here.’ I desperately sob. I hate that I do. I loathe it. This weakness and vulnerability. I hate that they see it.See me shaking from the fierceness of my wailing. ‘I’d rather die with dignity!’

‘Well, if that’s what you wanted, why didn’t you just say?’ His teeth sink into my neck, tearing at me like a wild animal. Blood seeps down my chest, past my legs, and over my toes.

‘Help me!’ I cry as the two others stand there and watch.

Shaw pulls back, blood dripping from his lips as he looks down at me.

‘No one will help you now. This is the only home you have left. We are the only family you will ever know.’ He roars his words in a demonic voice, making the walls tremble.

I close my eyes and cry. His fingers wrap in my hair, and he yanks my head back.

‘Open your eyes,’ he orders. ‘I will command you if I must. LOOK AT ME!’

My eyes open, and tears spill down my cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘Please just kill me. Please.’

‘Open your fucking mouth.’

I shake my head, still crying painfully hard as he towers over me.

‘Open it, or I will break your jaw so it never shuts again.’

It takes all my focus to get my body to obey. My lips part. His eye twitches.

He bites his wrist and thrusts his bleeding wound into my mouth, holding me in place by my hair. The metallic taste of his blood seeps into my mouth.

‘Drink,’ he commands.

Shaking my head is pointless. He’s got a firm grasp on my hair. I’m not going anywhere. In the silence, the sound of my blood splattering on the floor echoes around us. My muffled sobs carry through the air.

‘Drink,’ he repeats in my ear.

His mark on my neck tingles as he wields his power to control me.

I swallow and am disgusted by the taste. Repulsed at the thick, warm fluid sliding down my throat.

Behind him, Archie has started to laugh, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watches us.

The first swallow makes me gag. The second goes down a little easier.

The third is warm. My head gets fuzzy, like I’ve drunk too much wine. My heart slows. The panic fades. Every sip. Every bit. It all feels better.

I grip his wrist, keeping it pressed to my lips. This I can take. Gladly. Over the fear and pain and dread? I’ll take it.

I let the blood wash the world away. Let it devour my suffering and leave me drunk.

‘Look at me,’ Shaw says quietly, his tone still formidable but softer. Almost seductive. ‘Eyes on me, Pixie.’

I meet the heat of his gaze as he watches me drink from him. His breath has become shallow and jagged. His lips part as he hisses in a breath, and his fingers ease up in my hair. They’re still knotted there but just holding now.

I have no idea what this is, but it’s as close to heaven as I have ever been. My skin tingles and my insides hum.

I let out a moan, desperate for this peace. This ease his blood fills me with. My fear is gone. My dread vanished. All there is is him and this.

He steps forward, placing himself between my legs.

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