“Mina.” He says it slowly. “It suits you.”
“If you say so.”
Malachi reverses the knife in a smooth move and presses it to the side of his throat. “You seem like a smart girl.”
I blink. “Um.”
“Too smart to deny yourself a tool, even if I’m the one giving it to you.”
I don’t know he’s right about that, but I can’t help staring at his throat as he drags the tip of the knife over his skin, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake. My fangs ache in response. I might not require blood the way actual vampires do, but the desire is still there. “What are you doing?”
“Blood is power, little dhampir.” He leans in, pressing against me, until his neck is a few spare inches from my mouth. “Drink from me enough and your knee will mend itself.”
“Impossible.” I throw the word out like a life preserver. “It’s healed already.”
“Not impossible.” He tilts his head to the side, baring his neck completely. “Drink.”
I shouldn’t. It’s another tie linking me to him. His bloodline’s power might not be glamour like my father’s, but sharing blood back is what vampires do to mind-fuck humans. I’ve never drank from a vampire before. I don’t know what will happen if I do.
But if he’s not lying… If it can heal my knee…
My tongue snakes out without permission and drags over his neck. That small taste feels like a nuclear bomb going off inside me. I stop thinking, stop trying to rationalize my way through this. I simply act.
I bite him.
I have no finesse, like he demonstrated even when he was tackling me to the floor that first time. I’m too desperate for more.
His blood is like lightning on my tongue. It lights every nerve ending up. I swear I can actually feel the power rolling through my body. I want more.
Malachi digs his hand into my hair and gently pries me off him. “That’s enough.”
“But—” I can’t take my eyes off his neck. Even as I watch, the wounds close. “More.”
“Not today.” He steps back slowly, as if it pains him to put distance between us. “Get some sleep, Mina. You’re going to need it.”
I inhale. Even the air tastes different with his power flowing through my veins. “I don’t want to sleep. I want to…” I look at him. He really is sexy in a brutal sort of way. I can appreciate that, appreciate his strength and the way his eyes bleed to black when he looks at me. “I want to fuck.”
“Not that, either.”
“Why not?” Is this what being drunk feels like? It’s completely different than the bliss of his bite. That’s a physical thing and it eases almost as soon as his fangs leave my skin. This feeling is in my veins, searing me right to my very soul. I shiver. “It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He’s studying me, but I’m too loopy to read his expression. “But not yet. If you still want my cock when you wake up, you’re more than welcome to it.”
“I want it now.” I hop off the counter, but the world shifts, turning topsy-turvy on me. My bones go liquid and the last thing I feel before darkness claims me is Malachi’s strong arms closing around me.
4
I wake up in the same bed as before. Unlike last time, I don’t feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I feel great. Like I’ve had a full night’s sleep and a month’s worth of well-balanced meals. I sit up slowly and look down. My dress is back in place, but a quick check shows the bite marks are healed as if they never existed.
I prod my knee, but though the pain is fainter than normal, I don’t feel much different. Maybe it was all bullshit, but I can’t deny I feel better than I have in months.
Maybe that’s the point, though.
Biting him drugs me as much as his bite does. The first dose was free, but he’ll demand I fuck him for another.
The thought should fill me with horror. Having sex with Malachi means playing out the scheme my father put into motion. But the thought feels distant. Malachi isn’t anything like I expected. Oh, he’s vampire through and through—arrogant and predatory and sure that might makes right. But if he was as much monster my father is, he would have taken everything he wanted from me that first time in the foyer. He’d have chained me to a bed somewhere and gotten down to business until I’m knocked up or dead.
But just because Malachi is taking a softer route doesn’t mean he’s a better person. I have to remember that. Even if part of me feels a thrill of anticipation at the thought of his hands on me again.
I climb carefully to my feet, and my knee doesn’t buckle the way it sometimes does first thing in the morning. A few careful moments brings some pain, but my mobility is already better than it was.