From what I understand, hooking up with a vampire is the same thing as allowing them to feed from you. Each vampire bite, suck, and swallow provide the participants an orgasmic rush. Normally, they don’t require much to sate their hunger. Except normally, they’re not decapitated and lying in pieces mere feet from me.
“You’ll like it, Emme,” he whispers. He slurps as if already tasting me. “It will make you feel good, precious.”
“I’m not your precious and you need to stop,” I tell him.
He doesn’t, excreting more of his will.
Vampiric magic cuts through the thick layers of lust and sin coating the air. I’m not normally taken by vampire charm and the pheromones their magic emits to attract their meals have no effect on me. But this time, I can really sense it.
I fumble around the enclosure, pushing my hands against the stone. “Abre,” I call out. “Abre.”
I mimic Bren’s motion, as well as the extra surge of magic he released when he broke through the simple spell.
Yelling, “open,” in any language would have no effect on the wards enclosing our house. They’re strong. These, however, shouldn’t stand a chance. They’re poorly made, and yet my actions have no effect.
Several drops of water trickle against my already soaked spine. I peer up. While this bubble feels slightly stronger, like the first, it won’t last.
“Emme,” Gerald calls. “Come closer. We’ll be friends and more my sweet.”
It’s comments like these that always have Taran rolling her eyes at the vampires.
I step away from the wall and walk around, putting more distance between me and Gerald. This bubble, cave, whatever this thing is, traps magic and feeds from it to maintain it. It’s why my magic and Gerald’s appear more pronounced. Still, there’s more to this place and even more I don’t understand.
My hands press against my hips as I eye up the wall, pausing when Gerald attempts to lure me to him. “I can feel you,” I say.
“It’s just the start, baby. I’m going to make you feel like you’ve never felt before.”
“I mean that I’ve felt your magic from the start. You don’t have to keep going.” I shake my head. “It doesn’t affect me like you might think.”
“Interesting,” he says. “Why don’t you come over here and we’ll test your theory?” He lifts his arm and motions me over. Well, that is his intent. But the way his body lies, his finger points toward the water.
“I promise, you won’t regret it,” he adds is if that will somehow seal the deal.
“You’re old,” I say. My cheeks heat when I realize how I came across. “What I mean is, you’d have to be to survive the decapitation.”
“So?” he asks, rather defensively.
“It’s nothing personal,” I say, quickly. “It’s just Misha usually permits his older vampire on his premises.”
His scowl adds several points to his already creepy factor. “I’m new to the master’s keep. He feels I need to prove myself.” His legs kick, similar to a child at the start of a tantrum. “It’s the reason I ended up here.”
I remove Bren’s shirt and ring it out. It’s warmer outside the water. That doesn’t mean it’s still not cold. “I don’t understand what you mean,” I admit.
“If you come a little closer, I’ll be happy to tell you,” he promises. He makes a face when I cross my arms and fail to move. “Fine,” he says. “One of those things followed you to the Watering Hole.”
All right. Now he has my attention. “One of them?” I ask.
He nods, well, tries to. Mostly he just tips forward and ends up with a face full of sand. I give a little nudge with my force and set him back in place. He frowns. “I felt that.”
“I apologize,” I say. “I tried to be gentle.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he says. “I felt your hands. From there. How’d you do that?”
“I’m telekinetic,” I explain.
“No,” he says. “It’s more than that. I felt your touch—your fingers or something like them.” He licks his lips. “I can taste you with your touch.”
I thought he was trying to draw me closer. But he really doesn’t know anything about me. Maybe that’s what Misha wanted.
“You didn’t use your hands,” he clarifies.
I glance at the sand at my feet. “I don’t have to. For larger objects or more precision, sometimes I do use my hands.”
“What if—”
“That’s enough about me,” I say, trying to add some authority to my voice. “Let’s talk about what’s here and how we’re getting out.”
He doesn’t reply, his grin demonstrating he’s more amused than thinking twice about crossing me.
I straighten to my full height. Now is not the time to be polite. “Answer my questions,” I say. “What’s here? How many are there, and what do they want from me?”
He keeps his mouth shut.
I should remind him that Misha would take offense if he knew his vampires weren’t cooperating with me. But this vampire, for all he wants a taste of me, recognizes the danger we’re in. His features set. He knows I am his only chance at survival. “There’s three of them,” he says. “Freak witches from what I can tell. Two I can easily kill, if you’d just let me have a bite.”
Great. He’s starting to fall into bloodlust. I lean forward for emphasis and to show him I’m not afraid. Regardless of his tone, I’m the one in control.
“For the last time, you can’t have my blood,” I tell him.
He mutters a few swears. I disregard his rather creative cursing and mull through what he says. “What about the third?”
It’s only then he shows fear. “Can’t win. Not alone. Too strong.”
“There aren’t many things a vampire can’t overpower,” I remind him.
“No. But I can’t overpower them.”
“Them?” I ask. “I thought you said two are weak and easily disposed of?”
“Yeah. I did.
