Page 92 of Wrongfully Magicked
Isag in relief, the swirling, sick feeling in my stomach fading a little at the thought of becoming a vampire. I’m not afraid of ending a person’s life if they need to be killed. The world we live in is full of predators of the worst kind, and my family is a prime example.
Sometimes, we need monsters to kill monsters.
If that’s what it takes to stop my family, then it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
I fought my whole life not to be like them, and I won’t start now.
The guys will make sure I don’t cross any lines.
If I turn evil, they will stop me.
To my surprise, the thought of drinking blood isn’t as repulsive as I expected. In fact, my gums ache at the thought of feeding from the men, my body heating at the temptation of sinking my fangs into them.
Vampires are supposed to be blood crazy, but thinking of taking blood from anyone else has my stomach curdling and bile rising in my throat.
Nope, not happening.
I’d rather starve than feed from anyone else.
Vampires can become addicted to the high of consuming too much blood. Most vampires are fine until they take a life. When that happens, vampires go feral, something about taking the last drop from a person’s beating heart being toxic. The high they get turns into a craving for more, but no blood is ever enough.
Thankfully, Porter is one of the top predators in the world. If the worst happened, and I turned feral, he would stop me from hurting the guys or anyone else. Reassured by his promise, I roll my shoulders and allow the tension creeping up my spine sinceI learned of my hybrid status to drop away. It’s like a weight has been lifted from my soul.
Soren’s comment about demons drinking blood during sex as an aphrodisiac makes more and more sense. Feeling lighter, I shove a couple of bites of food in my mouth before getting down to business. “Any ideas on how you want to proceed with my family?”
Porter’s eyebrows shoot up, humor warming his burnt orange irises. “You trust me to organize the plan?”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth, and I gaze up at him from under my brows. “You know the men and their skills better than me. I won’t risk their lives on something as stupid as pride.”
The twinkle in his eyes dim, his expression turning serious. Shadows slowly peel off the dark skin of his neck and arms, giving the impression that his form wouldn’t actually have a shape if he didn’t command it.
He bows slightly, a nod of respect, the big beast of a man looking almost humble. “Thank you for your trust. I won’t abuse it.”
I purse my lips to keep myself from panting at his unintended smolder, glad I have nothing in my mouth, or I would have choked.
Holy sexy beasts, Batman!
It takes me a moment to gather my wits, then my lips quirk at his seriousness, and I shrug. “Oh, don’t worry. If you betray me, I’ll wear your balls as earings.”
He smirks, then his body shifts in a subtle way that goes from serious to sexy, and I’m not sure I’m even breathing as I squirm in my seat. “If you want to play with my balls, all you have to do is ask.”
I blink once, then twice, unsure that I heard him correctly. Heat burns my cheeks, and I wish I could say it was out ofembarrassment, but that would be a lie. I’m tempted to call his bluff, but a touch of doubt lingers at the back of my mind.
I don’t think he’s joking.
Dirty flirting is the last thing I expected from their staid leader. He’s always so serious that I don’t remember if he’s ever cracked a smile.
For someone who spent the night in bed with two other men, I shouldn’t like his attention so much. When he relaxes, he’s almost a different person. His eyes flick over my clothing, and a cute little smirk brightens his expression. “I’m glad they fit.”
“You’ve been picking out my clothes,” I murmur, absently reaching down to touch my jeans. There is something intimate about wearing clothes a man chose for you.
That he was able to guess my exact size without knowing my measurements is pure witchcraft. Either he is a lucky guesser, or he spent more time watching me than I realized. It should be a big turnoff, almost an invasion of privacy, but something about the care he took in picking out the clothes makes me feel special instead.
“Thank you.” I push away my plate, then rest my arms on the table, curiosity getting the best of me. “How were you able to find anything out in the middle of nowhere? Much less something that would fit?”
He removes one of his hands from his cup and lifts it into the air.
One second, he is solid, the next, his hand dissolves into inky smoke. “My shadows are more than a way to disappear into the darkness.”
