Page 7 of Viktor's Temptation
Her body betrayed her, trembling slightly as she took a hesitant step back. Viktor’s eyes narrowed, and his expression darkened with concern and anger.
“Who hit you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
Gracie pressed her fingers to her cheek instinctively, feeling the absence of the bruise but unable to shake the memory of Warren’s hand connecting with her face. “I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice too high-pitched to be convincing.
Before she could retreat further, his hand shot out, steadying her just as she stumbled against the coffee table. “Come with me,” he said firmly, guiding her toward a massive mirror mounted on the far wall.
Gracie barely registered her surroundings as he stood behind her, his hands brushing her hair away from her face. “This is you now,” he said softly.
Her reflection stole her breath.
“This…” she whispered, her fingers tentatively tracing the smooth, unblemished skin of her cheek. The bruise was gone—completely erased. But it wasn’t just the absence of the mark. Everything about her face was different. Her skin was luminous, her features refined in a way that didn’t seem possible.
“I ask again, Gracie… who hit you?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his in the mirror. His eyes bore into hers with a mixture of quiet fury and something gentler—concern, maybe? She dropped her hand to her side, suddenly feeling exposed. “I’m fine,” she murmured, stepping away from the mirror.
His large hands caught her shoulders, their touch firm but not unkind. “You’re not fine,” he countered. “You need several more bags of blood.” His grip tightened briefly, then softened. “And you need to tell me what happened to you.”
Gracie spun around to face him, her movements unsteady as another wave of hunger hit her. His hands steadied her again, and she looked up into those striking grey eyes.Why is he so damn attractive?
Her heart—or whatever now pulsed in her chest—fluttered uneasily. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone before. Not even Warren. It wasn’t just his physical presence, though that was impossible to ignore. It was his voice, his intensity, the way he seemed toseeher.
“I don’t understand any of this,” she admitted, her voice trembling.
He sighed, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “You don’t even know who I am, do you?”
She shook her head. “No idea.”
His hand cupped her jawline, tilting her face so their eyes locked. “I’m your clan leader.”
Gracie blinked, the words barely registering as her thoughts tangled. She should be terrified, wary, anything but… drawn to him. Yet here she was, caught between her fascinationwith this man and the nagging voice in her mind reminding her of her history—how poor her judgment in men had been.
And yet, standing here, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.
Clan? Wasn’t that a Scottish thing? Gracie’s thoughts raced. Had that awful man taken her out of the United States? “I’m not part of any clan,” she asserted firmly, her voice steady despite the panic bubbling inside. Surely she wasn’t in Scotland. She didn’t even own a passport!
His eyes hardened, a flicker of irritation flashing across his otherwise calm expression. “As a vampire, and one living within my domain, you are now under my authority, Gracie.”
Awhat? The word hit her like a slap, completely derailing her train of thought. “Why?” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
His finger stroked her cheek with surprising gentleness, yet the touch sent an electric jolt through her body that left her breathless. “Because I protect everyone within my domain. All vampires, at least.”
“Vampires?” Her voice wavered as she repeated the word, her mind rejecting it even as her body trembled with some unfamiliar recognition. “I’m not a vampire!”
Those firm, fascinating lips curled into a faint smile, his gaze steady. “You are now, my dear.” He reached for her hand, turning it palm-up as if he were holding something precious. “Look at the color of your skin, Gracie. See how pale it is.”
She stubbornly refused to look. If her skin was pale, it wasn’t because of some ludicrous vampire nonsense. There had to be another explanation. “I’m just sick,” she declared, her voice firmer now. “I don’t know what happened to me, but I must have low blood sugar.”
He shook his head slowly, his expression almost pitying. “You were starving. Not low blood sugar—low blood.”
Starving? That part, at least, made sense. She could remember the days—or had it been longer?—in that concrete prison. That vile man hadn’t fed anyone. The memories were blurred, hazy, but she distinctly recalled him doingsomethingto her neck, her hand, her shoulder. She shivered, her voice rising in defiance. “I don’t drink blood!” she hissed. “That’s disgusting!”
His eyebrow arched, a single dark line that managed to convey both skepticism and amusement.
Gracie flushed hotly, the color painfully visible against her pale skin. “Okay, yes, I had a few bags of blood earlier, but that was just because…!” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Whyhadshe guzzled those bags of blood so easily?
“Perhaps because your skin felt like it was on fire?” he offered, his tone maddeningly calm. “Or because it felt like needles were stabbing every inch of your body?”
