I lean into him, only for him to slam me back against the wall. This time he doesn’t catch my head. I open my eyes, stunned, expecting to see a mocking grin, for him to taunt me and my pathetic desperation.
Instead, I am alone. He’s gone, and I am alone, trapped with my racing thoughts and a bleeding palm. I stare at the place he stood only moments ago, and finally, the realization of what I’ve done crashes into me. Embarrassment and shame flood through me, chilling every inch of my body and settling into the deepest corners of my heart.
17
WE’VE BOTH DONE THINGS
SEBASTIAN
Fuck. Stupid. So stupid.
I pace my quarters and force myself to wait. It’s an hour, or close to it, before Cora finally arrives. Her eyes widen as she takes in my appearance. I haven’t changed, so I’m still filthy. My damp clothes stick to me, and my face itches with dried blood. John’s. Luther’s. Quincy’s. Clyde’s. Ruth’s. Nat’s. All people I had sworn to protect, to guide, to lead. Dead, by my hand, their bodies likely burned and buried by now.
I slide my tongue over my lower lip, where I can still taste blood. Not theirs,hers.
I straighten my fingers before clenching them into fists. Witches don’t have supernatural smell, not like vampires, and yet, I swear she knows. She knows that while six blood types came from murder, one came from passion. From recklessness. From the most addicting, dangerous of kisses.
“Well?” I bark.
It’s been close to an hour, and my body still feels like it’s malfunctioning. I’m too jittery to stand still, to do anything but pace and shift and worry.
“She’s fine,” Cora says after a prolonged pause. “I stitched her up.”
“Showered?” I ask. Because while I’d been specific for Oskar to get Cora—and to let no one else in Grace’s room—I’d immediately left after that. It was too dangerous for me to linger. After saving her from my ravenous followers, I’d suddenly needed to protect her fromme.
What a crazy, needy little witch. What was she thinking? Was she trying to commit suicide? Tempting me with her warmth, her taste, her literal blood?
I shouldn’t have kissed her at all. It should be a testament to those lips, to the little gasps from that sweet mouth. Her blood should have hazed my thoughts too much for me to kiss her. To do anything but sink my teeth into her palm and drink until there was nothing left.
“Yes,” Cora says. She’s staring at me with a skeptical expression. “I see you haven’t.”
“I was afraid she’d bleed out,” I say.
It’s not true. Her palm was bleeding, but not enough to die. She’d be uncomfortable though. Scared. Worried. Sticky and covered in as much blood as I am.
“She’s fine,” Cora repeats. “I’m surprised you weren’t with her. Lingering like Oskar.”
She’s testing me, but she’s working hard to hide it. She steps deeper into my room, eyes cautiously scanning her environment. She rarely comes to this part of the manor, let alone to my personal quarters. She studies my four poster bed and the wardrobe in the corner, the simple black rug over the scratched hardwoods. There’s a short dresser, secretly filled with weapons rather than clothes, and a rectangular mirror hanging above it.
Despite the additional furniture and the large space, it’s not much nicer than Grace’s quarters. It’s basic, stripped. Itdoes have an attached bathroom though, complete with a claw-foot tub and an oversized shower. The second Cora leaves, I’m going to use both until I’m completely scrubbed of Grace’s scent.
“I heard she held down two vampires,” Cora says, finally returning her gaze to me. “That’s good progress.”
I don’t respond. I’m not thinking of Grace’s progress right now. I’m thinking of her soft lips and her wicked tongue. I’m imagining how her mouth would feel on my cock and what her cunt would taste like.
“What else?” I ask gruffly. “What else did she say?”
Did she tell you she kissed me? Did she tell you I kissed her back? Does she know how close I came to killing her? Does she know Iwantedto?
I almost lost control—and I don’t lose control. I’ve been a vampire far too long. I’m not a newborn. I’m not overcome with insatiable bloodlust like the six vampires we met in the halls. I am experienced, calculating, purposeful.
One taste of her sweet blood, and I almost lost all sense of myself. If I’d allowed myself even another second, I think I might have…
“Was there something else sheshouldhave said?” Cora asks.
“You’re dismissed.”
It takes all my effort not to roll my eyes. I shuck out of my shirt, and Cora immediately spins, facing the door, rather than me. She’s almost thirty, but she’s a witch living in a house of vampires. I doubt she’s so much as seen a naked man.
