Page 22 of Taste Me

But it allowedhim.

I hate this!

It feels so wrong. Rage wells up inside my soul until there’s only one outlet for it to go.

Something I rarely ever got to do under threat of severe punishment from my now-dead father.

I scream.

The sound shatters the air and immediately quenches the fires that had climbed to the ceiling.

Smoke billows through the window that broke from my outburst.

Actually, everything that’s made of glass broke from my outburst.

What ingredients and potions didn’t burn from the fire are now blistering across wood and tile.

A secondary burst sounds when the bottle holding my screams explodes, sending my hair flinging across my face.

The vampire seems to handle my voice better now. It’s something that both terrifies me and thrills me.

Another slice of agony rips through my chest, wishing he’d take his words of rejection back.

Because ithurts.

“I’m sorry, Ishara,” he says as if he knows exactly the pain he’s caused me. “But I remember everything now. You deserve to know everything I do.” He slowly moves to his torn suit on the floor, one of the few things that appear to have been spared from the fire and splattering of potions. He extracts a handkerchief and presses it against his brow. “We need to slow this down, little witchling.”

My lower lip trembles and I force it to go stiff. “You mean, you don’twantto reject me?”

He flinches when I speak and I don’t stop him when he reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder. The gesture suggests he has an easier time with the deadly effects of my voice when he touches me.

And I like the excuse to feel his hands on my skin.

He picks up his suit again and strips it with his teeth, then begins to wrap it around my chest. “I don’t, darling. Trust me.”

How does this make any sense?

While the words are meant to break a fated-mate bond, the pull still remains.

Physical connection would repair the damage that’s been done, but I’m not sure if that’s really what I want now that I know Daithi’s magic is involved.

That he accepted it.

But did he know what he was accepting? It was just a handshake. Maybe he wasn’t aware.

He appreciates my breasts before he covers them up, then tucks the fabric against my rib cage.

His gaze flicks up to meet mine. “But you may wish to walk away once you learn the truth.” He keeps his hand on my shoulder when he straightens.

His touch is helping the pain of his prior rejection. Nullifying it, in a way.

From my understanding of fated bonds, this isn’t how it works at all. That should be all the proof I need that Daithi’s magic is interfering, but it doesn’t feel that simple.

I am a unique breed of witch.

And this male is clearly a unique type of vampire.

Together, we would be a fated pair unlike the world has ever seen. Maybe the rules don’t apply to us as they should.

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