Blood Secret (15 page)
“Lucy, love, I need to feed. If I promise I will not hurt you, will you let me take some of your blood? Just a taste, sweeting.”
The words had come out on their own, raspy and desperate, and he couldn’t take them back now.
She gasped and took a sharp step back, away from him.
Christ, what had he just done? He’d seen her throat and lost control of his tongue.
Now he was losing control of his fangs. His mouth tingled, then two sharp jabs of pain shot through his jaw as his fangs launched out and lengthened.
13
Revealed
“Y
ou are asking me if you can drink my blood?”
ou are asking me if you can drink my blood?”
Sinjin winced at the cold, emotionless way Lucy asked the question. She hugged herself, even though a fire roared in James’s room. Her face went pale.
“I’m sorry, my dear, and I should not have asked you. Certainly, not so bluntly.” He tried to sound light, as though he had asked her to dance, not bite her throat and drink her blood. In London, he subsisted on animal blood drunk from a glass, and there were brothels that catered to vampires—sating their cravings for blood or for pleasure, or both. How many people had he fed from before he managed to learn to control his feeding? More than he wanted to count. Each victim had struggled and screamed. At the very beginning, he hadn’t been able to stop taking blood, and he had seen the faces of his victims, contorted in terror and agony.
He saw the same horror etched in Lucy’s lovely face. It hit him like a blade—or a stake—through his heart. “But I have to feed,” he added. He kept his voice soft, but he heard the note of grim resignation. “And I didn’t want to be driven to take blood from the servants. Instead, I will find the nearest village. In places like these—isolated places—people trade stories of vampires all the time.”
“No.”
Lucy spoke quietly, but with decision. He searched her beautiful dark blue eyes for fear, for horror, for hatred. But she gazed at him calmly, now. Before he had read her thoughts, but he could not do it now.
“Are you certain?” he asked.
“Yes. You cannot go out on the moors and attack people as though you are some sort of beast. Anyway, it would do no good to terrify local villagers. I don’t want them to chase me with burning torches.”
He was about to try for a teasing remark when she shivered and stated, “Nor do I want people chasing you, wanting to stake you or set you on fire.”
Christ. She was worried about protecting him. Yet at the end of this, when he had James safe, he was supposed to kill her.
She traced the neckline of her bodice. His throat dried as he watched her fingertip follow the scoop against creamy flesh.
“All right,” she said. “I will let you do this. But not here, not when James could awaken.”
She squared her shoulders and faced him with her chin tipped up. He remembered the first night she had come to him and offered her body in place of her brother’s debts. She had made the same motions—she had straightened her spine, lifted her chin. Then, he’d been amused by her stubbornness, her pride. Now he was touched by her bravery.
“Would you like a drink first? Brandy for a touch more courage?” Sinjin asked softly.
She shook her head, and as she did, he moved to her side. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her out. The winds howled tonight, buffeting the house, rattling windowpanes.
The two maids were in the hall, speaking in low voices. They stopped abruptly as they saw him approaching, carrying Lucy in his arms. He lifted his brows, and they scurried away.
He carried Lucy to her bedchamber. His fangs were out, brushing his lower lip.
Damn, he was hungry. He hadn’t felt the craving this hard for a long time.
But he wouldn’t be uncontrollably hungry. He couldn’t be. Not like when he was first turned into a vampire.
There was no way on Earth he wanted to hurt Lucy.
Lucy had never felt quite so much like a damsel from a gothic novel. Lamplight gleamed on Sinjin’s loose, long blond hair as he carried her into her bedroom. His shirt was open at his throat and his eyes were a seducer’s—heavy-lidded and sensual. But his teeth had changed. He now possessed fangs, long, curved white fangs that overlapped his full lower lip.
A breathtakingly handsome man held her in his arms—but he possessed fangs that looked like they belonged on a beast. He was like her: both human and something different. Like her, he was a mystical being that wasn’t supposed to exist at all.
Sinjin had let her shift shape, even though, as a dragon, she could tear a human apart if she wanted to. He had trusted her.
And she trusted him. She
could
trust him to do this and not hurt her. He lowered her onto the bed, and she rolled onto her hip and drew her hair back to expose her neck. Gathering courage, she whispered, “Come, please. I want you to do it.”
could
trust him to do this and not hurt her. He lowered her onto the bed, and she rolled onto her hip and drew her hair back to expose her neck. Gathering courage, she whispered, “Come, please. I want you to do it.”
Easy to say, but it proved much harder to wait and try to look calm as he approached. Would it hurt? What a daft thought—he was going to bite her deeply enough to draw her blood. Of course it would hurt.
But surely, as a dragon, she could bear it better than a mortal woman.
He kneeled on the bed. He looked so serious. Deathly so. He cupped her shoulders and rolled her onto her back. He did it all in silence, never moving his silvery gaze from her face. Broad shoulders loomed over her. She fought not to flinch as he cupped her cheek. Just hours before, she had loved his touch, now she was searching his eyes, to see if he had ... well, lost all his humanity. What did a vampire look like when he bit into his prey? She knew what a fighting dragon looked like, and she did
not
want to see Sinjin look so fierce and brutal.
not
want to see Sinjin look so fierce and brutal.
Lucy couldn’t bear to see him look anything like her fiancé had done on the night he had raped that girl. On the night he had attacked her.
She let her lashes sweep down, so she couldn’t see him. But the moment his lips touched her throat, she instinctively jerked back.
“All right, Lucy. I shouldn’t do this—”
“You must. I am quite fine.”
A sad smile touched his mouth. “You aren’t, love. I promise it won’t hurt. You will see. The fangs of a vampire actually take the feeling away from the skin when they touch. There is something else you will feel. Intense pleasure.”
“Really? Well then, let us do this. Now I want to know what it will be like.”
She tipped her head to the side on the silky counterpane. Lightly, he ran his tongue along her neck. Closing her eyes, she let out a breathy giggle.
Then his lip stroked her and she felt a jolt of sexual arousal. The light scrape of teeth—she’d thought it would hurt, but it didn’t. It sent sizzling sensations down through her body.
The tips of his fangs grazed her skin. With her eyes shut, waiting for the pain that would surely come when he bit her. “Before you do this ... are you still angry with my family, with me, about James?”
“Angry with you?” He cradled her waist, and lifted her so she was lying across his lap. She had never seen such tenderness in a man’s eyes. “Lucy, you made him laugh. I have taken care of him since he was three years of age, and I could never do that. I’m not angry with you—I am forever in your debt. For eternity, I am in your debt. You can ask anything of me. Do you want me to stop? Have you changed your mind?”
“No. Oh no! Now I am ready. Now that I know you aren’t angry ...” Then she added, “Thank you.”
His brows drew into a frown. “Sweetheart, why are you thanking me?”
“For forgiving me. For ... for trusting me. So you can do it now.”
Again Sinjin moved to her neck and once more his fangs stroked along her throat. Where he touched, it tickled at first, then warmth washed over her skin and she could no longer feel his touch.
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Your skin tastes delicious.”
Lucy gazed down. She could see his long blond hair, his lashes shielding his eyes. From where she lay, she couldn’t see his mouth as he prepared to bite.
Oh! A swift, sharp twinge hit her, then an intense tingle raced through her neck. It wasn’t pain. It was a jolt of pleasure and it made her tip back her head and moan. Dear heaven, she could feel him drawing her blood, yet it didn’t frighten her, it gave her rhythmic tugs of pleasure, like the way it felt when he thrust inside her.
He cupped her breasts, and her nipples stood up at once. She felt so extra-sensitive around her breasts. Just the stroke of his thumb over her bodice made her squirm on his lap. His erection grew beneath it—it must be straining against his trousers. Each pulse of her blood reaching his mouth brought a wave of delight through her.
She’d never dreamed it would feel like this. She arched and writhed, and lifted her neck so he could take more.
He began to pull back.
No—
She was going to come, and she couldn’t let him stop. She needed just a bit more. She grasped Sinjin’s hair, so he couldn’t go away, winding her fingers in the silky length.
“Love, you have to let me go.”
“No, please no.” She wriggled her hips, aching and needing and wanting just a bit more.
“No, Lucy, I can’t take more. I wouldn’t stop.” His hand crept down, her skirts went up, and his fingers slid between her nether lips. All it took was one stroke over her aroused, aching nub, and all the coiled tension exploded. It was like cracking a whip. Her body arched sharply, she let out a keening cry, and she let ecstasy take her.
The pulsing, the delight, the throbbing of her body, and the twitching inside ... it went on forever. Until she was floppy and weak, draped over his lap like silk ribbon.
He had given orgasms before, but this had been the most intense. She was still panting, still breathing hard. So much pleasure, caused by his fangs in her neck and his fingers playing between her legs. Heavens, now she knew what he meant. His bite hadn’t hurt. It had been erotic.
Dazed, Lucy opened her eyes, seeking his face. Stark lines ringed his mouth. Blood smeared his lower lip and he hastily ran the back of his hand across it, sweeping it away.
She smiled and squirmed once more, purring with contentment. But no smile touched his mouth.
“You didn’t hurt me.”
“I could have. Hell, Lucy, I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to stop.”
“You did.” She rolled off his lap, landing on her bed. At least she wore only her short stays, which gave her some ability to move. She clasped his hand. Why did he seem so filled with anguish, with remorse? “I am not afraid of you, Sinjin. How could I be? You are not afraid of me.”
Abruptly he rose from the bed, jumping to his feet. “It’s late, Lucy. I should let you sleep.” He yanked his fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his face. His hair was matted and tangled—he had not combed it in days. She remembered how he had looked on the night she had gone to his house to barter for Jack’s debts. His hair had been beautifully styled, his cravat knotted with pristine elegance.
Now he looked like a haggard wreck.
Feeding from her had bothered him. She touched her neck, the tips of her fingers found two small punctures. Surely these small holes wouldn’t have meant her death. She remembered how her fiancé had slashed her with his claws. Big, brutal wounds in her belly, on her legs. It had taken months for them to heal completely, even with the magical healing properties that dragons possessed, and still those had not killed her.
Had Sinjin truly come close to taking too much of her blood? Wouldn’t she feel much weaker if he had? All she felt was the velvety sensation that came after a climax.
But something was tormenting him. He would not meet her eyes.
“Come to bed with me,” she said.
“I can’t. I don’t know if my resolve will break—if my hunger will take control and I will feed from you again.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“You would if I took every drop, Lucy. You said you weren’t afraid of me. Love, you should be.”
Obviously he believed those words would make her retreat, for he turned away and headed for the door. She had been in danger from a man before. She had seen a man she trusted turn into a monster willing to kill her. Every instinct screamed at her to believe him—that she was a fool to get up from the bed, cross her arms over her chest, and state, “Well, I cannot fear you. I care too much about you to be afraid of you.”
“Christ, what more do I have to do to make you understand—?”
“You could talk to me! You could tell me why I am now supposed to be afraid of you when you didn’t hurt me, when you stopped, when you proved you have control.”
“Damn,” he muttered. He yanked his hand so viciously through his hair that he pulled some out and glinting strands of gold fluttered through the air.
She had to admit, seeing his anger made her knees shake.
What was she doing? She barely knew this man, but she was letting herself trust him. Since Mr. Ferrars she had not trusted any man. Even her brother had let her down, had stamped on her faith in him. In the last two days, she’d learned even her father had kept secrets from her.
Why did she trust this angry man?
Was it because he was showing his fury—directed currently at his poor hair? Was it because he wasn’t hiding what he felt behind kisses, hugs, kind words?
Sinjin was the most honest man she had ever encountered.
“Hades, Lucy, I do not deserve your trust,” he snapped. Then he was gone and the door slammed behind him.
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