Cursed (30 page)

Greyvian looked at him for a long moment, expression unreadable, and then started walking back towards the car.

“Don’t forget to heal her,” he threw back over his shoulder.

19

Fully sated, but in no way relaxed, Greyvian checked in briefly with Knox to make sure all was well and then headed for the sanctuary of his bedroom. Too many thoughts were filling his mind for sleep, but the solitude would do him good, would give him the time and space to try to come to grips with the fact that Jacob could see evil, that his son had inherited not just his need for human blood, but also his curse. Most galling of all, and perhaps the most damning of his character flaws, was the thought that perhaps Jacob
would
learn to control his thirst.

He hated that the last thought nagged at him so much. That it seemed the most frequent and badly received of them all. But, ever since he had found that he required human blood and was unable to control the amount that he took, that had been the one thing above all else that he had aimed to achieve. Needing human blood might not have seemed so much of a curse had he been able to control the feeding as other vampires did. He could control his emotions, lock them away in a small part of his mind when he really needed to, but he couldn’t control the amount of blood that he took.

His only saving grace had been the fact that he was the only vampire in existence that needed human blood. Nobody could point to him and say that he was the only human-blood-drinking vampire in existence that
couldn’t
control his thirst because he
was
the only human-blood-drinking vampire in existence.
He
set the precedent.
He
was able to say that it was
because
he had to drink human blood that he lost control, killing his donor. If Jacob did eventually learn to control the amount that he took, Greyvian would have no excuse for his weakness but weakness alone. The thousands of human lives that he had taken and would continue to take would all come down to the fact that he wasn’t strong enough to stop himself from taking everything they had. Or perhaps, that deep down inside, he didn’t
want
to stop. Maybe he
wanted
to kill all of those people. After all, he felt no remorse for killing evil, so maybe that too was just a cover for his murderous nature. Maybe he should just accept the inevitable—that he enjoyed the kill, that he liked to inflict suffering, that he—

Shaking his head, he stopped the train of thought in its tracks. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t how his thought patterns worked. He had come to grips with his past and his inability to control his thirst a long time ago. Why was he revisiting it in this manner?

A red haze of depraved images flashed through his mind, a verbal stream of thoughts filling his mind along with it, the tone of those thoughts similar to the ones that had been circling his mind like a pack of hungry dogs.

Of course. The unwanted side effects of his little affliction. Sometimes it took days to contain the taint that evil left inside of his mind, to get his thoughts to realign, to find their groove once again. The track that was his and not somebody else’s.

He couldn’t afford the distraction right now, but he could afford the hunger even less so he would just have to be mindful of it. The sooner he got to his bedroom and meditated to clear his mind, the better.

Looking around himself, he suddenly realised that he was not in the hallway that led to his bedroom. Instead, he was on the other side of the house, standing in front of a door that led into one of the guestrooms. A door that held the lingering scent of a certain human female who had no right to smell as delightful as she did.

Had his subconscious led him here? For what purpose?

Staring at the door handle, he realised that this would be a defining moment in his life. If he reached down and opened the door, it would be with intent. He could not put it down to a loss of willpower, a loss of control. He would not allow his life to be defined that way.

Not any longer.

Whatever he did next, it was all on him.

It was dark inside her room, but that didn’t matter because of his night vision. He was able to pick out every object as if it were lit like day. Not that he cared about every object in the room. The only one that his eyes were focused on lay on the bed, covered by a thin blanket, breathing softly and slowly.

The air felt warm against his skin and was sweetly spiced with her scent, the richness of it invading his nostrils, threatening to take away his control if he gave into it. But that wasn’t what he was here for. This was not about losing control; it was about maintaining it.

Sienna was the greatest threat to his willpower, so he was going to prove once and for all that he was not a slave to his thirst.

A sudden disturbing thought entered his mind, given wings for only a moment before it was swamped under once again by the strength of an alien determination.
Perhaps I am not myself right now.

Moving towards the bed, he reached down and tugged at his t-shirt, pulling the material free of his leathers. In one fluid move, he rid himself of the confining item and tossed it aside, his eyes never once leaving the still form beneath the covers. She stirred as he reached down and removed his boots and rolled over towards him as his fingers found the button of his pants.

As if she sensed his presence, Sienna’s eyes snapped open, finding his as he twisted, releasing the button from its catch. Her gaze travelled the length of him, taking in his state of undress and then rose back to meet his once more.

He didn’t wait for consent as he rid himself of the last barrier between them, tossing the leathers aside with little care for where they fell. Naked and proud, he stood before her, allowing her a short moment to take in the full length and width of his arousal before stalking the remaining few feet to her bedside.

She stared up at him, eyes wide, lips parted. She made no move to welcome him, but neither did she tell him to go away. He was about to reach down and lift the covers aside when her eyes fell to his erection, followed closely by her hand. Her touch was light, hesitant at first and then bolder as he hissed with pleasure. She stroked him a few times in a way that he had allowed no other and then circled the tip with her index finger. Finding a bead of moisture, she then began to coat the head, her finger going around and around.

Red-hazed images flashed through his mind, strong hands grabbing hold of a woman’s head, hips thrusting back and forth, the pleasant sensation of warm wetness surrounding his cock, the even more pleasant awareness that it was against the woman’s will. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed the memories away, trying to push them back down into the recesses of his mind where they belonged.

Why were these memories so hard to control? What was so different about that last male that this taint seemed to stick to him so much more than normal?

Opening his eyes, he tried to focus on what Sienna was doing to him, to let the pleasure of her touch burn away the evil. It even worked for a while, especially when the warm wetness of her mouth closed around the tip, but then his hands clasped the sides of her head and it was as if he were about to re-enact the depravity of what that bastard had done to some poor unsuspecting woman.

Pushing Sienna’s head back, he stared down at her innocent face as she returned his gaze with a questioning look. He shook his head once, unable to trust his voice and eased her back onto the bed.

Lifting the covers, he caught sight of her camisole and couldn’t look away. The last time they had done this, he hadn’t had the chance to truly appreciate all that her body had to offer. He wasn’t going to waste another opportunity.

Raising one knee to the mattress, he leant over and ran a hand across the satiny material covering her, feeling the warmth of her body beneath the sultry smooth texture of the cloth. Smoothing the palm of his hand over the soft mound of her breast and then down her body to the firm mound of her sex, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to touch another person so badly. The soft sound she made as he cupped her gently made his cock jump expectantly. His body tightened even further as she rolled her hips towards him, urging him on.

What a good little whore
, the words reverberated through his mind, bringing with it an intense pain that robbed him blind for a moment.

“Greyvian? Are you okay?” Sienna’s voice seemed to come from a distance.

Shaking his head sharply, as if that could dislodge the taint, he blinked a few times until his vision returned and found himself looking into Sienna’s worried eyes.

“I’m fine,” he replied, sounding so sure of himself he almost believed it.

Leaning down, he silenced her next question with a kiss. Capturing her lips with his, he tasted the warm depths of her mouth with his tongue, diving deep, like he wanted to do with another part of his anatomy, over and over until all thought evaporated from his mind. All he could think about was the taste of her. A weaker version of her blood, but no less desirable, it begged him to devour her.

Instinct took over and he was suddenly on the bed, his hands lifting her camisole along her body, their mouths parting only long enough to pull it over her head before they were back to tasting each other.

Without room in his head for thought, his mind remained haze-free whilst sensation took over. Her body was soft compared to the hard length of his, but he could feel her strength as her hands gripped his biceps, her fingers digging into the muscle as their kisses grew more heated.

The instant he entered her body they both cried out at the intensity of the sensation. He wanted to cum immediately, but held himself back from the brink, forced himself to hold still until the feeling passed.

Would it always be this way with her?

Looking into her eyes, which were dark with desire, he suddenly wished more than anything that his blood had the power to change her, to make her like him. To have her with him for eternity was a heady thought.

But would he want her as badly as he did if she were Vampire? Her blood would be useless to him then, and she probably wouldn’t smell as divine. Not that her scent was what had driven him to have sex with her that first time—in fact, it was her distinct lack of scent that had given him the opening he’d needed. And now? What had brought him here this time?

Need. Pure and simple. He needed her. Needed to be inside of her. Needed to be lost to desire. Needed the chance to get out of his own headspace for a moment. No—it wasn’t just that. She made him… feel. Whilst not always a good thing, it was better than the emotional void that he had been living in before she’d come into his life.

Giving in to the inevitable, he began to thrust his hips, slowly at first and then with gathering speed. Each movement taking him away to a place that could only ever exist for a brief moment before reality cruelly stepped in and took over. As if she also desperately wanted to enter that paradise, Sienna met him thrust for thrust, her nails digging into his ass as she pulled her hips up to his. He wanted to continue to look into her eyes, to fall further into the blue depths than he ever had before, but he was afraid that if he did, he would never get back out. Instead, he lowered his head beside hers and breathed in her scent until there was nothing else that existed but his own senses working overtime.

Again and again, their pelvises met, the pleasure tightening within, coiling, as her body gripped him, holding on like it didn’t want to let go. Her breath was hot against his ear; the broken sounds she made as their bodies came together, over and over, taking him to the brink. He might have growled something in her ear as he strove to hold himself back from it. What he said, he had no idea, but it seemed to be just the thing to bring Sienna to orgasm. With a jagged breath and a sharp cry, she came, pleasure releasing, hips bucking beneath him as her body clenched around him. He followed her a moment later, spilling himself into her in hot pulses that rocked him to his core.

And then, without thought of any kind, his fangs sprang down and buried themselves in her neck. As the sweet ambrosia that was her blood flowed into his mouth and down his throat, he came again, the ecstasy of feeding from her almost too much for his senses to bear. If she struggled, he wasn’t aware of it. If she spoke to him, he couldn’t hear it. If he took too much, would he know it before it was too late?

He tried to bring coherent thought back into his brain, to snap himself out of the trance he was in, but it was like trying to skydive without a parachute. He lost all sense of self when he fed, there could be no control where he was concerned. He was a fool to ever think that he could. In the end, when he finally came back down to earth, he hit with a thud.

Eyes springing open, he raised his head and stared in wide-eyed horror at Sienna’s deathly pale face. Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving—didn’t even appear to be breathing. Lifting one lid, he checked for signs of life, but there was no reaction.

Swearing at himself, at how stupid he was to have even come in here in the first place, he sat up and bit into his wrist. Tilting her head back, he pressed it to her mouth and prayed to any deity who might deign to listen that she wasn’t dead.

He couldn’t believe he had done this. What had he been thinking?

Nothing good, obviously.

Time seemed to stretch into infinity as she lay motionless, his blood dripping into the back of her throat. If there was the slightest spark of life within her, his blood would revive her, but she was so pale—her normally rosy cheeks now colourless. There was no movement in her chest to show that she still breathed.