Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“What do you want?”
“Why do you hate me?”
“That’s why you’re haunting me? You want to know why I hate you?” I blow out a breath. “How much time do you have?”
He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes the color of ice. They match his personality. “I have all the time you need, Ryet. Let’s hear it. Tell me all the ways in which I ruined your life.”
“No. Fuck you. You’ve got me running around these cabins like I’m one of your fucking bitches and now you’re invading my dreams. What are you doing? Spying on me?”
“Spying. Why are you so dramatic? I’m checking up on you. Did you find the girl?”
“No. I haven’t. I’ve been too busy remodeling your stupid cabins. If you want me to get back to it, say the word. I’d be happy to. But I’m not gonna look for your stupid feeder while you have me on a leash.”
“Like I said, I’m checking up on you.”
“Come check up on me in person. Don’t invade my dreams. It’s a violation.”
The corner of his lip turns up, like he wants to chuckle about my choice of the word ‘violation.’ But he knows better, and decides to change the subject. “I don’t care for the girl, do you?”
“Which girl?”
Now he narrows his eyes at me. “How many girls are you dealing with at the moment?”
“Two. But if you mean Isabella? No. I can’t stand her. She orders me around—”
“That’s why I don’t come in person. I just want her to pop that child out so I can take him somewhere else. I will not be playing house with this one for the next decade. She’s not my type. Perhaps I should give the boy back to Hutch? It is his child, after all.”
“Who the fuck is Hutch?”
“My current favorite slave. He’s so pretty, Ryet. Not as pretty as you, but my God. I could look at him all day.”
“Yeah, well. Isabella’s pretty too.”
“She is.” He chuckles. “But only on the outside. Which I can deal with.”
“You’re not dealing with her, Paul. You’re hiding like a fucking coward while I deal with her for you.”
“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Obviously.”
This is the point in the conversation when I realize that we’re actually having a conversation. I want to ignore him, but I can’t. Because the truth is, I fucking love him. And if someone came after him, I would kill for him. Die for him, if that was even possible.
I can’t decide if this is some kind of vampire magic he’s working or if it’s just his natural charm. I don’t have a big enough sample size to make that determination, so these feelings and talks are nothing but confusion on my end. Because no matter what he does to me, after a couple minutes of talking, I’m back in his corner. It feels like a trick. Like abuse.
Like Stockholm syndrome.
Of course, I know it’s the blood bond between us.
Blood lovers. That’s what he calls it.
I hate him, but I crave him.
I want to be rid of him, but I also want him next to me.
I want to feed on him and sometimes I dream about him feeding on me. Not just the little accidental drips, either. But fully latched on and sucking the blood out of me in rivers. And even though I try my best to not love the taste of him, I love the fucking taste of him. And if he were to bare his neck to me, I’d suck on him all night.
This thing between us is forever. And he’s here to remind me of that.
He sighs. “How are you feeling?”
“What?”
“Are you feeling OK?”
“You know, you’re the second person to ask me that today.”
“Really?” His eyebrow goes up. “Who was the first?”
“The guy at the church down the road.”
“What were you doing in church?”
“I was in the food bank. I have a woman in my bed and she was hungry.”
Paul smiles coyly. “Well, look at you. Settling in.”
“We fucked. That’s all.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Is that all?”
“So far. Are we done here? I’d like to get back to her.”
He and I have locked eyes. Not even blinking. Like we are in battle and our weapons are words. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“Are you jealous?”
“I don’t have feelings, Ryet. I have needs.”
“Right. So… I’m gonna wake up now. Nice chat.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Which was?”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Thanks.”
“I only ask because I gave you a lot of blood in Miami.”
“Nope. I’m good.” But I don’t remember it that way. Sips. That’s what he gave me. He’s always denied me full drinks.
“But I need to give you more. Very soon.”
“What? Why? I just fed. And it was two months early.”
“There’s something wrong with you, Ryet. Can’t you feel it?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re a piece of work, you know that? You know what’s wrong with me, Paul? You. And the fact that you turned me into your bitch.” I pause and bare my teeth at him and then growl out my words. “If you want something from me, show up in person. Stay out of my fucking dreams.”