Page 36 of Entombed By Blood
Moving my arms is what does it. Unlike when I was chained down, I can stretch, and that triggers the memory of the previous day. I feel for the lid with my hands, unwilling to trust my mind.
It isn’t there.
I blink open my eyes hesitantly, allowing them to focus on the bright white of the ceiling before looking around my chamber. The scent of the roses is overpowering, agitating my nose until I want to sneeze. It’s that smell that convinces me this is real rather than a silver-induced hallucination.
Ripping myself free of the blankets, I stumble to my feet, before staring at the pinkness of my arms. Even through all those layers, my skin still bears the brunt of the silver. It’s nothing compared to the burns I would have received without the fabric, but it’s enough to sting.
There’s no Silas here to work the shower for me this time, and it takes me several long minutes of pressing the images of glowing dials on the glass screen to figure out how to work it. The water comes out freezing cold, then transitions to scaldingly hot, but I don’t bother trying to fix it after that. I sleepwalk through the motions of bathing myself before towelling dry and slipping my robe back on.
I wish I had my armour rather than this flimsy piece of silk. Though, I doubt steel could protect me from whatever my sire has planned for me today. I pointedly ignore the burn in my throat and the two heartbeats beyond the closed door. I can hear their voices outside my chamber, but it’s hard to focus on what they’re saying.
Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.
I don’t remember opening the door or stalking Gideon and Draven down the corridor. Instinct keeps me perfectly quiet as I track the melodic beating of their hearts across the apartment. The predator in me is in full control now.
Somewhere between the shower and the closet, I lose myself. My fangs sink into corded muscle, and I moan at the first drop that hits my tongue, spreading relief through my mind like a slow drug.
My prey roars beneath me, and I take another answering pull.
He tastes like a vampire, but there’s a touch of something different in him. A smoky note to his blood which piques my curiosity. He slams the both of us backwards into a wall, but I just take another, deeper, drink.
This prey isn’t going to break my hold. I dig my claws into his shoulders savagely, and his roar chokes off into a laugh.
That sound—so unexpected—draws me deeper into the feeding frenzy, even as my rational mind screams at me.
His arms wrap around me, almost protectively, and my hands clench, sending my claws deeper.
My meal just laughs harder, as if pain is somehow amusing to him.
Draven. His name is Draven.
…and he tastes so good.
Thud-thud.
Quiet words can’t penetrate the blood haze. Firm hands try to pull me away from him, and I cling to him all the tighter.
Then his arms leave me. His roar blends with my growl when I’m ripped away entirely.
My fangs find the flesh of my attacker, and I bite downhard. Determined to punish the person who dared interrupt us.
But this blood is different.
This blood ispowerful.
Alpha. This is what atruealpha tastes like.
My head lolls back, fangs leaving his body as I blink myopically up at him.
Gideon’s calm, deep brown eyes meet mine. “Good morning.”
How is he so unaffected? I unclench my claws, suddenly self-conscious as I back away. This lycan—a man literally sharing his soul with a beast—is so controlled, and I’m... not. I’ve fallen so far from the woman I once was, and my cheeks burn with shame.
With the distance I put between us, I get the chance to examine the two of them. Their black uniforms are pressed and impeccable. The only thing out of place about them is the blood dripping from the bite marks on their necks.
I’m less than a beast now. A slave to urges I conquered centuries ago. No better than a ghoul.
“Your sire will be visiting today to check on your progress,” Gideon continues, as if my blood-crazed attack means nothing.
