Damien Vladermer's Arc

Chapter 9 of 13

Damien held her, and for a moment the thirst stayed low. Then Skylar shifted against his chest. Her pulse moved past his lips. The low hum climbed. His fangs ached, and his control thinned to a wire. "You're shaking again," Skylar said. She pulled back and looked at his mouth. "Tell me what you need." "I can't say it," Damien said. His voice cracked. "If I stay this close, I'll take it. I don't trust myself." She studied him the way she studied everyone. Reading the room. Reading him. Then she took his hand and led him toward the bed. The black silk caught the light. She sat on the edge and pulled him down beside her. "Then take it," she said. "But only what I give." "You don't know what you're offering." His teeth were long now. He kept his face turned. "I know exactly what I'm offering." She tilted her head. Her blonde hair fell back. The line of her throat showed pale in the dark room. "I choose this. Same as I chose to stay." Damien looked at her. The hunger screamed. But under it sat the other thing, the want he'd carried since the park. He cupped her jaw. His thumb traced her cheek. "If you want to stop, say stop," he said. "I will." "I trust you," she said. Plain. Final. He kissed her. Slow, careful, holding the wire tight. She kissed him back and did not pull away. He moved down her jaw, to the warm spot below her ear, where the pulse beat strongest. His lips rested there. Her hand pressed flat against his back, steady, telling him yes. The fangs sank in. Her blood filled his mouth. It was not like the others. The park woman, all the willing strangers, had dulled the ache for a night. This did more. The scream inside him quieted to nothing. Every muscle he'd held rigid for days let go at once. He drank in small, controlled pulls, one hand at the back of her head, careful not to take too much. Skylar gasped once, then breathed slow. She held on to him. He drew back before he wanted to. He would not take more than she gave. He pressed his palm over the two small marks. The bleeding stopped fast. She looked pale but calm, her eyes on him, clear. "Better?" she asked. Damien tested himself. The thirst was there still, low and patient, but the raw edge was gone. He could sit beside her without fear. "Better," he said. "Not gone. But better than it has ever been." He pulled her against him on the black silk. She fit there, warm and willing. He had fed on her and not hurt her. She had chosen it. And he understood, holding her, that only her blood did this. Not any human's. Hers. The cure he'd hidden from her sat in his mouth now, and she still did not know she was it.