by Lucinda Dark
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s not going to work.”
“What?” He blinked, his brows drawing down in confusion.
“I don’t want to tell him,” I insisted.
He stared at me. I couldn’t discern if he was shocked or emotionless.
“It was probably just because of your emotions,” he said. God, how I wanted to believe that. For a moment, I almost did, but then my mind pushed me back to the worst case scenario. What if I ignored this? What if I just let this fear go and it turned out I was wrong? What then? Even as my brain spiraled out of control, my anxiety building until it was all I could do to suck in breath after breath as Torin kept talking. “I pushed you too far. It’s my fault,” he continued. “We’ll try again later.” I shook my head. I didn’t think it was because of my emotions. Something deep down told me that even if we tried again, it wouldn’t work. “Barbie.” The way he said my name told me he was going to deny me.
When I heard Maverick’s footsteps in the hallway, I released Torin’s wrist and darted up. I flew to the door and flicked the lock, turning and placing my back on it as soon as I heard his knock. “Barbie? Is Torin in there?”
Torin’s brows drew down and he stepped towards me. I reached up and covered his mouth with my palm. “If you want me to forgive you,” I whispered harshly, “please don’t tell him.”
He froze. “You … would forgive me?” he asked, his breath blowing against my fingertips.
I nodded. “Please, Torin.”
He hesitated, the confusion obvious in the way he wavered on his feet, wanting to reach around me to unlock the door and wanting…well, I wasn’t him. I didn’t know what else he might have wanted. But his eyes were focused on me, only me. They were sharp and the longer he stood there, staring at me, the brighter they glowed.
He bent down, bringing his lips closer as my hand fell away. He pressed a kiss to my temple as he pulled me against him. My breasts crushed against his chest as he spoke in a low, barely there tone. “It’ll be okay, Sweetheart,” he whispered. “I promised you. I won’t let you hurt him. Don’t worry.”
“I can’t drink it,” I said what I feared.
An echo of silence stretched between us. “Maybe you’re just nervous,” he suggested quietly, but even he didn’t sound like he believed it.
I blanched at that. “I know I have to drink the fucking blood, Torin. It’s not that.”
“It could be anything,” he argued. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”
“I still don’t want him to know,” I practically pleaded, my eyes growing wide as I heard Maverick get closer. “Please.”
Torin clenched his teeth, but finally—thankfully—he nodded. “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I won’t tell him.” With that, he released me and moved to the door, unlocking and opening it in a flash. “Yeah, I’m here, what do you need?”
With my back turned, I didn’t see Maverick’s face, but when he began asking Torin about his gun, I relaxed. The door closed and I was left alone with the sound of the fan spanning across the room once more and one horrible thought pervading my mind. The worst thing that could possibly happen to me now. Something I never expected. It didn’t matter what Torin said, I knew the truth.
I couldn’t drink bagged blood.
Five
Barbie
I woke up dancing. No, that wasn’t quite right. I was still asleep. But in the dream world, I was already on my feet, dancing, as long gossamer skirts flitted around my thighs, trapping my legs together. If it weren’t for the pair of strong arms holding me up, spinning me about, I would’ve most certainly fallen on my face. I looked up and nearly tore myself from his grasp the second I realized who it was. I shouldn’t have been surprised. It’d been a matter of time before this particular monster reared his head.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I spat.
Vampire-Torin grinned at me, flashing his fangs. “I was invited.”
“The fuck you were.” He didn’t seem to mind the vitriol I spewed at him. Instead, he took it in stride, turning me around the ballroom in a tight fitting tuxedo that molded to his frame. The lapels of his coat slid against his abdomen and drew my eye to his tapered waist. I gritted my teeth and tore my gaze away.
He threw his head back as he spun me in a circle and laughed. “Oh, my sweet mate, merely sleeping under the same roof as I do is invitation enough.”
“Like I had a fucking choice?” Music flitted overhead, soft and sharp movements of bows being drawn over taut strings. It held a note of haunting quality—a collection of operatic voices rising just above the violins’ notes.
The dress I wore was a soft, pale white—something out of a damn Gothic novel. The lace was etched over my arms. It raced down to circle my wrists in soft cuffs. But unlike a Gothic novel, the gown left my front on full display, cups of satin squeezing my breasts up and nearly spilling them from the top as the bottom skirts clung to my limbs. Something wet touched my calves and I jerked, looking down. A red splash of blood coated the lower layers of the dress. Blood. It disturbed me more to feel how very unruffled I was by the sight of it.
“Is there anything so comforting as dancing with one’s mate?” Vampire-Torin asked.
I scowled, once again attempting to tug my hand free from his grasp. In response, his fingers tightened around my wrist, yanking me closer as his other arm banded around my waist. He crushed me to him until breathing became difficult. “I love this look on you, Sweetheart,” he whispered, lowering his head and nipping at my earlobe with one fang.
“Oh, bite me,” I snapped before I thought better of it.
He drew back and smiled. “I would love to.”
Ripping my hand from his, I pushed both of my palms against his chest, managing to gain just an inch or two of distance as I narrowed my eyes on his face. “What do you want?” I demanded. “Why are you in my dreams?”
“Didn’t you want to see me?” he asked, stopping as the arching crescendo of the music came to an abrupt halt.
“Not particularly,” I deadpanned.
He tsked, reaching up and booping me on the nose, the odd action making me blink at him in confusion. What the fuck? “Let’s not lie to ourselves,” he said, taking my hand and whirling me out and away from him before whirling me back.
“Torin,” I snapped, “the music’s gone.” Even if it hadn’t been, though, I wouldn’t have been comfortable with this.
Vampire-Torin side stepped and spun me around, crossing my arms over my chest in a too fast movement. He snapped his fingers and the strangely melancholy melody from earlier was forgotten as rock music flared to life. I glanced around, but just as I noticed before, there was no band or radio. The music simply came to life—brought to fruition from seemingly nowhere at his command.
“What is this?” I demanded again as Vampire-Torin hugged me to him—my back to his chest, and swayed softly.
“The honeymoon,” he replied, grinding his cock into my ass through our clothes. My back went ramrod straight at his hardness.
“Torin.” His name was a warning hissed through gritted teeth. He ignored it, continuing to sway back and forth as he ground himself into me. He hummed along with the thumping bass of the rock ballad, the sound rumbling in his chest.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment but snapped them open when he released me and I fell. I thumped back against soft cushions, an array of pillows breaking my fall as sheer curtains descended around us. I lifted my gaze to Torin’s as he stood over me, his finger going to the buttons of his tuxedo. He undid the jacket and slid the thing off, tossing it away as the music continued in the background. My mouth grew dry as he undid the cuffs of his white dress shirt next and then untied the bowtie at his throat.
“W-what…” I swallowed. “What are you doing?”
Vampire-Torin continued to dance, his movements rhythmic and sensual as he undid the row of buttons from his throat down to where the dress shirt was tucked into his black slacks. The rev
eal of his chest was slow and deliberate. The shadowed lines of his muscles, as they were revealed, made my mouth water. His shirt was pulled the rest of the way off and discarded as the song changed and turned darker with the beat of something that would have felt more at home in a club. The volume lowered as the light in the room dimmed. I struggled up onto my elbows as Vampire-Torin came down over me. He found my ankles and pulled off the ballet flats I’d found myself in, tossing them over his shoulder as he smoothed warm palms up my calves and thighs.
I stiffened. “What are you doing?” I repeated, letting a growl fill my voice even as my gums throbbed with the need for my fangs to descend. It was only by the force of my will that they remained hidden.
Vampire-Torin’s eyes flashed, luminous in the shadows of the dream. As soon as his arms closed around me, I shoved against his chest and sent him sprawling against the pillows. This time it was me who came down on top of him. My thighs on either side of his hips. I was done playing his stupid game. He thought he had all the fucking power? Well, not anymore. I reached up and summoned a blade. If this was a dream—my fucking dream—then I should have some control, and would you look at that…I laughed out loud as a dagger formed in my palm.
I lowered my arm and held the sharpened tip against his throat. “Why did you bring me here?” I demanded. “And does your other half know what you’re doing?”
“It’s just a dream, Sweetheart,” he said with a grin. I narrowed my eyes as he held up his hands on either side of his head. He could have been facing a harem of brothel workers for all he seemed to care about the dagger at his vein, though. Perhaps it was because I was positioned squarely over his cock which—I grimaced—hadn’t lost any of its hardness.
I sneered down at him. “You’re disgusting.”
He shrugged, the movement pressing his throat against the sharp end of my blade. A line of red welled up and a drop of blood slid from the cut. My gaze followed it as he spoke again. I didn’t hear his words. Everything in me was fixated on that singular line of blood as it hit his collarbone and held. My tongue inched out and swiped over my lower lip as I shook my head and refocused on what he was saying. “—but if this kind of play gets you hot, who am I to refuse my mate?”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat right here and now?” I asked. “It wouldn’t kill you. Hell, I doubt it’d even hurt you.”
“Do you want to?” His smile widened. “You want to slit my throat, Barbie? Do you want to lick my blood? Bathe in it?” My mouth watered. Lick his blood? Disturbingly, I found that I did want that. I wanted to lean down and draw a path up his throat with my tongue. I wanted to close my lips over the wound and suck down the red liquid pouring from it. And as if the fucker knew that, he smirked. “I’ll let you,” he offered.
“Let me?” I repeated, proud of how steady my voice sounded. “From where I’m sitting, I’m not giving you much of a choice.”
“Please, Sweetheart.” A hand snatched my wrist and yanked it away from his throat. I growled and fought to free myself, but in no time at all, my equilibrium was thrown and I was tossed right back into the mound of pillows with an amused vampire sliding over my front. Vampire-Torin plucked the dagger from my grasp and slid it down the front of my gown. “I was just humoring you. But truth in fact, you do need to feed. We both know what happened the last time you tried it.” The last time had just been mere hours ago. We both knew that as well. I turned my head away as I blinked back tears of frustration. “Aw, come on, love.” Warm fingers brushed my cheek. “I didn’t say that to upset you.”
“Everything you do upsets me,” I grumbled.
“Look.” He leaned back, his fingers falling away. For a long moment, I kept my gaze fixated away, until the silence grew too loud. It scraped across my already raw and frayed nerves. I snapped my head back and glared at him. Vampire-Torin held up his hands and the dagger I’d summoned disappeared. “I’m not armed. You’re not armed. I didn’t come here to hurt you, you have to know that. I’d sooner slice my own heart out of my chest than do that. We’re bound now, Sweetheart. You and me. Sire and Sire-ee.”
“That’s not a thing,” I deadpanned.
“Fine then,” he replied. “Sire and mate.”
“Stop calling me your mate.”
He sighed heavily. His lower lip jutted out from his upper one. “You are what you are,” he said finally. “And I am what I am. So, why don’t you just stop fighting me—at least for now—and let’s make a deal.”
“I don’t make deals with the devil.”
Fingers grasped my face again as he leaned down, his breath brushing against my lips with noticeable heat. “Oh, but you already did,” he whispered. “Denying it would be a lie.”
“I hate you.”
“There’s a fine line between love and hate,” he replied airily, his hands sliding up my skirts and bunching them up around my thighs. His fingers pressed against the skin of my inner thighs and he surged forward, pushing himself down between me until only the fabric of my underwear and his pants barred the way. I hissed, reaching up and snapping my hand around his throat as talons ripped through my nail beds. Blood ran down my fingers and over my wrist.
His eyes fucking glittered. He plucked my hand from his neck as if it was nothing more than a piece of lint on his clothes and he brought it up. I knew what he was planning as soon as I saw his face, but even as I tried to yank my palm away, his tongue lapped out and stroked up the center of my palm. His lips moved to my fingers and opened as he sucked one into his mouth. The warm, wet heat of his tongue against my finger had a tie wrapped around my core and the harder he sucked the tighter it was pulled. When he had sucked off the last of my blood and my nails had returned to normal, I was a soaked mess—panting, wanting, needy.
I closed my eyes as he released my hand and sucked in a breath, searching for control. I licked my lips and spoke in a rough tone. “What do you want with me?” I asked. “Why did you bring me here? Just fucking tell me. I’m tired of the games.”
A soft palm settled against my cheek. “Barbie.” He stroked my cheek. Tingles raced through my skin at his touch. And still, I refused to open my eyes. “You’re hungry,” he said. “I brought you here to feed you.”
My lips parted. My eyes slid open. “I already fed,” I said.
His red eyes met mine and though there was possessiveness in his gaze, there was also gentleness. “Who said I was going to feed you blood?” he whispered.
“What—” His mouth slammed down on mine, his tongue sliding inside and I was so fucking tired of fighting, I just let it happen. I kissed him back roughly. Reaching up and palming the back of his skull, I arched my spine and pressed myself against him as he nipped my lower lip, taking it into his mouth as he sucked.
His mouth ravished me, moving from my lips to my jaw to my neck in mere seconds—consuming every hesitation in its path. “You forget,” he said as he sucked at my neck, “you may be dhampire now, but you’re still possessed by a succubus.”
I gasped as his fingers slid up the inside of my thighs and touched my core. His lips curved against my skin. “It seems your body knows what you want more than your mind.”
“My body isn’t the one in charge,” I choked out as his fingers slid my underwear to the side and moved into me. “Fuck!” A moment later, my words evaporated altogether as my body proved just how very wrong I was. I undulated my hips, my body seeking out the movement of his digits. He sank them deep and curled them until they pressed something inside, sliding against a bundle of nerves I didn’t even know I had. He did it again and again, until sweat ran down my temples and I sank my nails into his back. I screamed as an orgasm washed over me, stealing my sanity and leaving me a mess.
“You’re one of a kind, Barbie Steele,” Vampire-Torin said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head at my hairline. “But best of all, you’re mine.”
I didn’t even have the energy to contradict his claim. I was shaky, exhausted, and far too rela
xed to do much of anything. He must have sensed that because instead of removing my underwear completely and sinking himself into me as I expected, he pulled his fingers free, rearranged my skirts over my legs and turned me so that he was spooned against my back. And in the dream of Vampire-Torin’s creation, I hovered on the brink of wakefulness and sleep. The dream dispersed, falling away into a vague senselessness.
Satrina had told me to choose a side to feed, blood or sex. It seemed that Torin—both sides of him—was determined to feed both.
Six
Barbie
Enough was e-fucking-nough. I slammed the pointed tip of my sword into the ground at Torin’s feet, halting all movement in the vicinity. Maverick—who’d been cleaning his gun at the end of the porch—looked up and watched us with curious, guarded eyes. Torin looked down at where the sword rested by his foot, just an inch or so from his toe, before lifting his head to meet my gaze.
“I’m moving back to the McKnights,” I announced. “I’m not staying here anymore. It’s been a week—three since Rome. They have to know something is up.”
Before I was even done, he was already shaking his head. “No, and as long as I go see them regularly, they won’t suspect a thing.”
I leaned closer. “I wasn’t fucking asking,” I snapped.
“You haven’t yet mastered feeding,” he replied.
I stiffened, but I wasn’t going to back down. I had made up my mind. “I’m going back to the McKnights and I’m returning to school,” I repeated, adding the last bit.
“Barbie—”
“I’m leaving tonight,” I interrupted, talking over him. “If you have a fucking problem with that, well … I find that I just don’t give a fuck.” I reached down and jerked the blade up from the ground with one hand, and turned to stride away.