Page 22 of Bitten & Burned
“I suppose that’s true,” I mused, settling back against the seat.
I watched the countryside turn from green pastures to dark forests, entering the tree line, the moonlight in the carriage dimmed until it was nearly swallowed by darkness.
As we moved along, I felt it.Inmy hip this time. A burn that crept in slowly and then surged, growing until tears welled in my eyes. If it had just come on a tiny bit slower, I might have managed, but as it was, I groaned when the pain hit me in waves.
“What?” Vael asked. “What is it?”
“It hurts,” was all I could muster before everything went small like a pinpoint.
I stretched my arms forward, searching for anything solid inside the cab. Then, I felt Vael’s hands on mine, squeezing tightly.
“Hey, Hey, are you in there, Witchling?” He whispered.
I nodded. “Yeah.” My voice sounded strange in my ears, far away, almost tinny. My body shook as the pain shot through my hip, white-hot and searing.
I groaned louder this time, reaching down to grab my hip. This wasn’t right. Something was wrong. It was getting worse. Much worse, much faster.
“Rowena! Rowena!” I heard Vael’s voice, but it felt miles away.
“Rowena!” He called again, right in my ear.
I wanted to see him, to talk to him, but when my eyelids fluttered open, I had to shut them again.
It was too much. Too bright. Too everything.
My heart hammered in my chest as my leg throbbed, the pain so sharp I could actually feel the shape of the sigil.
I gripped Vael’s hand and forced my eyes to open, to look at him, only him. “I need…” I murmured. “I need…”
“I know,” he said, dropping to the floorboards of the carriage. He slid his hand under the edge of my skirt.
Even though the movements felt intimate, and he’d spentmany an evening doing exactly what he was doing now, it was wholly different.
It still felt urgent, but it was not thrilling in the slightest.
He was rummaging under my skirt so he could find the spot on my thigh. I felt the cold sting of his fangs as he bit down, and then there was more burning.
I hissed in discomfort, and he held my knees steady, drawing on my femoral artery until I felt my muscles relax. The burning wasn’t so entirely encompassing anymore. It still hurt, but it felt farther away, softer. He’d had to take more blood this time. I could tell by how bruised I felt when he pulled his fangs out.
I breathed easy, and he licked at the wound to close it, coming back out from under my skirts so he could sit on the seat with me, gather me in his arms. I just held myself still against him, worried that the slightest jostling was going to set off the pain again.
I blinked.
He brushed the hair from my face. “How do you feel?”
“Woozy,” I admitted.
“I was afraid of that,” he muttered under his breath, bringing his wrist up to his mouth. I heard the soft crunch of his fangs against his skin. He held his wrist to my lips. “I took too much from you; you need to even out.”
So, I drank. It wasn’t the first time, and likely wouldn’t be the last. His blood tasted… not like blood. I always thought it would taste like I had bitten my bottom lip or something. But it never did. Apparently, each vampire had a slightly different taste, but Vael tasted deep and loamy, with a slightly bitter, acidic twinge at the end. Sort of like mushrooms and vinegar, but with nothing but the mouth feel, none of the things that make vinegar taste like vinegar. The tongue-feel. It was hard to describe, but not at all unpleasant. It was a series of tastes that sort of bled into one another, no pun intended.
I hummed against his skin, and he combed through my hair with the fingers of his other hand.
“It was worse this time.” It wasn’t aquestion.
“Yes,” I said around mouthfuls of his blood; it was the only word I could muster.
“I had to take so much blood just to ease the pain…This can’t be the remedy we use. Even if we were bonded, it’s a lot of blood, Rowena…”
