Page 74 of Auctioned for Her Blood
Zuben’s eyes light up, sparking with interest. “Tell me more. Tell meeverything.”
I lift my hand to my throat remembering the pleasure his feeding gave me.
“Forgive me.” He stands. “You are dehydrated, exhausted and clearly in dire need of liquid refreshment. There is none in this room, but I will find what you need. There must be water in this dungeon to satiate the non-vampiric prisoners.”
My body tenses. Earlier he said I was the only human down here. “What—who else is down here?” It hurts to speak and I wish I could make myself stop talking, but I have so much to ask.
“I cannot answer your question with any accuracy,” he says, “having just arrived myself. But based on my observations, in addition to mostly vampires, this prison contains all manner of what you humans would call supernatural creatures.”
“Plus a bear.” I swallow in a vain attempt to wet my parched throat.
“A bear? I doubt that.” He takes a step back from me. “I will leave you now to locate some water.” He’s at the door in a flash.
“No!” The word scrapes out of me, and my body shakes, imagining what would happen if Psycho found me in here, or anyone else for that matter. Based on what I saw, the rooms in this hallway are used for sex, and drinking blood, and I have zero interest in being a participant, involuntary or voluntary, in any kind of a vampire orgy. “Zuben, please don’t leave me alone. Please.”
In a flash, he’s kneeling on the sofa at my side. “But you must drink.”
Again I see an idea flash in his eyes. His lips part and his fangs spring out.
I press back against the sofa cushions. “No…”
He shakes his head, offering reassurance with his eyes. “I am sorry for startling you. I have no intention of feeding from your vein. Instead, I mean you to feed from mine.”
He bites his wrist and then presses the ripped flesh against my lips, moving so quickly I don’t have time to react, or to seal my mouth closed before his wrist is there. The taste of Zuben’s blood—coppery, salty, meaty—hits my tongue, and even before I swallow anything, a rush flows through my body unlike anything I’ve felt before.
The idea of drinking vampire blood, anyone’s blood, is repulsive, but my lips part of their own volition, and I suck, gulping, drawing long draughts of the hot liquid that not only soothes my pain and my thirst, but my entire body, waking it, like an instant influx of energy.
But it’s more than just energy. I’ve never felt so alive. It’s not unlike when Ryker fed from me, or shot his seed inside my body—but it’s different...even better. It’s like there’s a wind tunnel inside me, but the wind brings pure joy, pure energy, and unimaginable pleasure.
“Slow down. Careful.” Zuben’s voice is tender.
Gently squeezing my cheeks with his other hand, he forces open my mouth to release his wrist.
Too overwhelmed with pleasure to object, I close my eyes in ecstasy, licking my lips, running my tongue over my teeth and sucking at the insides of my cheeks—desperate to ingest every last drop of what he gave me.
Wanting more, I reach for his hand.
He pulls it behind his back. “You have consumed enough.”
I nod as gratitude floods into the mix of emotions and physical delights racing through me. And other, stronger emotions pull me to Zuben. Shifting forward, I run my hand over his arm to his shoulder, wanting,needingto touch him, to be close to him, however I can. My thirst has been quenched, my burns seem to have healed, and I’m full of energy.
But beyond that, his blood has woken something else inside of me. Something I’ve felt only one time before in my life. And the feeling is perhaps even stronger now than it was with Ryker. It’s impossible to deny that my body and mind are consumed with lust.
I try to fight against the raging need that’s dominating my attention. It seems wrong. Not only do I have more important concerns at the moment, I developed feelings for Ryker last night—or whenever that was—strong feelings. So why do I now want Zuben so fiercely?
In little more than two days, I’ve gone from being a virgin, avoiding any situation that might turn sexual, into a nymphomaniac of some kind.
On the other hand, I’ve been attracted to Zuben from the moment I met him. Who wouldn’t be attracted to his creamy brown skin, his thick black lashes, his chestnut eyes that look at me with so much intensity and interest—and his sharp, symmetrical bone structure that’s at once beautiful and entirely masculine. And that’s all ignoring his elegant frame, solid and muscular, belying his formal attire.
Objectively justifying my attraction is not helping to quell my lust—my desperate need for this man, this vampire.
Zuben’s hand shifts to cover mine, and I realize that I’ve been stroking his chest, my palm warm and tingling from the friction over the texture of his suit and the hard muscles beneath the fabric.
Turning my hand under his, I let our fingers entwine while I raise my other hand to his face. His eyelashes flutter when I make contact with his cheek.
“Ember.” His voice is deep, rich like butter, and his skin is surprisingly soft, almost like velvet, and so warm to the touch as my thumb strokes his sharp cheekbone and my fingertips tease into his dark hair, which I now realize is longer than I originally thought, slicked back with some kind of grooming product.
Turning his head, he kisses my palm, like he did the day we first met, and desire vibrates through my body, tightening my sex and further heightening my need.
