Series: The Un Series by Izzy Sweet
Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
And it’s the wrong thing to say.
With my eyes closed, I don’t see what happens next, but I certainly feel it.
Suddenly his fangs are sinking into my neck.
And it’s even more amazing than that sensitive spot being stroked by his cock.
It feels like a hundred of those spots being touched at once.
My orgasm hits me so hard and fast, I swear my mind and body are transported to another dimension.
A dimension where there is only pleasure.
I cease to exist as a being.
I am simply sensation.
Incredible, indescribable sensation.
And when it finally ends, all I want is to go back.
Until I become aware of my body again.
My walls are squeezing around his slowing cock and he’s filling me with a wonderful heat.
But he’s also literally sucking the life out of me.
Latched onto my neck, his mouth pulls and pulls.
Matching the rhythm of my pussy fluttering around him.
I knew deep down that this would happen eventually, but I thought we would have a discussion about it first.
Survival instincts kicking in, I try everything to get him off me.
I shove at him. I try to move my neck.
I even try to knee him in the balls.
But he’s stronger and can anticipate everything through the bond.
“Stop,” I demand breathlessly.
But he ignores me, sucking even harder.
“Stop!” I scream inside my head, trying to get through to him.
Either he’s too far gone or he doesn’t hear me because he keeps going, ignoring my distress.
I don’t want to die yet. I don’t!
I want to live.
All I’ve ever wanted is to live.
My heart slows to the point that everything in front of my eyes becomes fuzzy and I can barely take a breath.
Finally, he pulls away from neck and rips his own fangs across his wrist.
Pressing his wrist against my mouth, he orders me to, “Suck.”
So weak I can’t resist him, I suck on his wrist and swallow his blood.
And the last thing I think before I seize up in pain and everything goes black is…
I’ll pay him back for this.
THIRTEEN
RAPHAEL
I’ll pay him back for this.
Those words haunt me the moment she slumps in my arms.
Cradling Alena as my feet touch the floor, fear wants to tear through me.
She’s dead, and there’s no way to touch the bond.
I can only feel that her body is turning, but not what her mind is going through.
As far as I know, no soulmarked woman has ever told us what happens during the time between death and rebirth. If they even remember it.
When Asher turned Chloe, it took days for Chloe to awaken.
Every vampire’s greatest fear is that his marked will come back with hatred for him. Hatred for an eternity.
I had to turn her. It was the only way to keep her safe.
That fucking monster the Order has working for them was trying to take her. To what end, I don’t know, but his intentions were far from fucking good.
Stopping myself from staring at Alena’s face, I can’t help that my eyes want to drink in every tiny part of her features. She’s beautiful beyond words.
Frighteningly so.
It’s going to be far too easy to fixate on her. Fixate like a newborn vampire.
Closing my eyes, I clutch Alena closer to my chest. She weighs nothing compared to my vampiric strength. But at the same time, her weight is the weight of worlds.
If she hates me, it’s the cross I will bear.
Because her safety trumps my life.
Walking into the bathroom, I keep my eyes shut.
Turning the water on, I quickly clean her body of all the blood that’s been spilled on her. My blood and hers.
Even now the smell of the blood that prophet gave her is foul. As the blood rinses off her, so does all the filth.
Washing us both quickly under the water, I force myself not to peek at her body. Lest I get transfixed by her perfection again.
Drying her body without sight is… fun. I don’t even try to lie myself that this is purely clinical in nature. No, I’m enjoying every fucking second of it.
Her shape and curves call to me with their intoxicating symmetry.
Is it me that finds her body the definition of perfection because she’s my fated? Or is it because her body and face truly are perfect?
Asher said she looked enchantingly beautiful when he first laid eyes on her.
Opening my eyes now that we’re back in the bedroom, I agree wholeheartedly.
But it’s not just her body that makes her perfect.
Her soul and mind draw me like a moth to the fire.
She’s survived what most wouldn’t survive.
The strength she showed… the goodness of her heart…
Fuck, I don’t even know how to be objective here.
Is it even possible in this situation?
I grab a sleeping gown out of the dresser. It’s lacy but modest. And it absolutely looks like something Ambrose would pick for her.
Pulling out a pair of thong panties, though, gives me pause. Would she want to wear these?