Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Her eyes were glazed, her blinks coming slower and slower as she looked up at me. “I think I like it when you bite me.”
“Yeah, I like it a little too much.” Cradling her head against my chest, I lifted my wrist to my mouth and cursed what was surely about to end whatever relationship we’d had. A quick, clean slice of my fang opened the vein. “I’m going to need you to do something weird.”
“I’m game.” She grinned at me.
“Drink.” I put my wrist against her mouth. “Please, baby. You have to.”
Baby? Since fucking when did I call anyone baby?
Keeping her eyes locked on mine, she did as I asked. Her blink of surprise wasn’t revulsion. She didn’t push me away and scream. No, she moaned as my blood flowed into her. Then she grasped my wrist and held on tight, taking swallow after swallow.
It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my hundreds of years of existence. My cock throbbed behind my zipper. I wanted to be inside her, pumping hard and deep while she drank her fill, while I gave her everything she needed.
Stop that. She’s not a vampire. She’s a fucking human.
A human I’d nearly drained to death with my lack of control. A sick human.
God, I really was a monster.
Color flushed her cheeks, and I nodded as her heart rate steadied. “That’s enough.” I pulled my wrist away from her mouth and sealed the cut with my tongue.
“That was…” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at me, and the scent of desire coming off her again was nearly my undoing as she reached for me.
It would be hers if I gave in.
“That was the last time that ever happens.” I steadied her on the table, then turned and practically ran the fuck out of the house.
8
GRACE
“How are you feeling, Grace?” Doctor Watson asked as she came into the room, her white lab coat fluttering behind her.
I nodded slowly from where I sat in the patient chair tucked across the tiny exam room. “I’m doing okay,” I answered. Honestly, I hadn’t wanted to come in to see her, but I needed a refill on my anti-nausea meds, and she’d insisted I come in for another set of scans while getting the refill. Plus, there was a question I really needed her to answer.
Apprehension climbed up my throat, threatening to steal the words away.
“How are the headaches?” she asked, taking a seat across from me as she clicked her pen and scribbled something down on my chart.
“Come and go,” I said.
“And the nausea? You’re here for a refill on the meds I gave you a few weeks ago?”
“Yeah, the nausea has been more persistent. It’s making it difficult to do the things I need to do.”
Like convincing Ajax to let go of whatever was holding him back.
Citrus and vanilla. His blood had tasted better than my favorite coffee, my favorite wine, any of it. And what he’d done to my body? God, I’d never been so consumed before. Never felt so cherished, so safe in his arms.
His teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh.
Did that even happen? Or had I manifested a scene straight out of my favorite fiction? To be fair, Ajax was way better than any fantasy, but I was terrified he was just that…a fantasy.
And he’d been so incredibly busy the last five days—something about his work—that I was back to my theory that I’d conjured him out of thin air. Maybe more so, after the delicious swapping-of-blood scenario.
“We’ll get that taken care of,” she said, jerking me back to the present. Something bright danced in her gaze. “I got your scans back,” she said, sliding two clear image boards out of the folder she held. She stood up, positioning them on the light board and clicked it on. “You see this?” she asked, pointing to the dark mass that was slowly killing me.
“Yep,” I said. “Looks the same as two weeks ago.”
“But it’s not,” she said, turning back to me. “It’s a millimeter smaller than your last scan.”
“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “Is that significant?”
Her shoulders dropped as she sat back down. “Well, in your type of case, we usually love to see any kind of shrinking. I know it’s not a lot, but it’s something of note. Have you given any more thought to treatment? If it’s shrinking on its own—”
“Thanks, doc,” I said over her. “But I’m not changing my mind about treatment.” I blew out a breath, watching the frustration shape her features. “I appreciate you taking the scans and telling me, caring enough to continue to give me the anti-nausea meds and offer treatment, but I just can’t. I finally feel like I’m enjoying what’s left of my life, and I don’t want to throw a roadblock in that.”