Page 10 of Desired for Her Blood
I push back against the cave wall, as if the stone can absorb me, and the conflict between my need to hold her and my fear and hatred of her magic nearly rips me in two.
Not to mention all the shame that’s staked its strong place inside my despair.
Witch or not, I nearly raped her. And the thought that I could be capable of doing thatto anyonefills me with anguish.
My emotions tug, my mind being drawn and quartered, as if my sanity has splintered.
But I can’t force myself to break my vampiric hearing that’s carefully tuned to her as she remains underwater, trying to swim past the waterfall.
A new fear enters my chaotic mind. Since the explosion, the waterfall is much stronger, pummeling the surface and creating currents even I found hard to traverse. And Ember’s trying to come straight through the middle where the force is the strongest.
I hear her struggle as the tag team of the pressure and the undertow draw her further down.
What if I lose her?
That new fear crashes through everything else, and I dive into the swirling water, stroking with full power to find her.
She’s caught in a tumble, the water spinning her over and over, but before I reach her, she breaks through and starts to rise.
Impressed by her power as she fights the currents, I’m in awe, but then I freeze. That too could be magic.Is magic how she’s saving herself?
I watch her rise from below, fighting the pull of the current myself. She breaks through the surface, gasping, but then the undertow pulls her back toward the cascading water and she drops below the surface again.
I duck my head under to watch, but no bubbles rise from her mouth and nose this time. She’s drowning.
No!
With one strong kick, I’m with her, holding her under one arm as I rise to the surface, and then I carefully lift her unconscious body and lay it down on the rock.
She’s not breathing.
Panicked, I blow air into her lips, blue and cold, and then wait before I do it again. Then again and again.
Finally, she coughs. Water spurts from her throat, and I turn her onto her side to help it drain until she stops coughing. Then I roll her back and hold her head and shoulders, praying for her to revive.
Her eyes flutter open, but instead of feeling relief, my fear that she might die is once again displaced by the stewing hatred of magic, combined with the shame in my heart.
Brushing wet hairs off her cheek, I fight to brush away my thoughts about magic. “You okay?”
She nods, but then coughs again, so I help her to sit. She leans back toward my chest, but I jump to my feet and back away quickly.
She catches herself, bracing herself on bent arms.
I don’t know how to process physical contact with her, now her life’s not at risk. She starts coughing again, and I crouch down, patting her back, but even that tiny bit of touch confuses me, raising warm feelings I no longer trust.
What if I’d lost her…
My hand switches from patting her back to stroking it, and I feel her reaction… And my own, as my heart pounds faster.
I close my eyes to fight against my response to her obvious arousal that’s emanating from every pore in her skin, saturating every molecule of air released on her breath.
I…oh, fuck me…I want her.
Ineedher.
But acting on that would go against everything I believe. It would truly change the last remaining decent parts of me into a monster.
Closing my eyes, I inhale, my desire growing with every microscopic hint of her scent that I draw in.
