It’s all his fault. Every bit of this is his fault starting from the moment he had me pinned in that filthy dungeon. It’s his fault for ever inducing this hidden lust.
And as I catch my breath, it dawns on me then, in the most horrific of ways, that it’s not just him.
It’s me.
It’s my blood.
Like my old home, my influence will protect my new home. It must. For hinging my safety on my sister, yet again, will only cause me to hang in a delicate balance, one that will favor creatures like Darius instead of bloodbags like me. I have to use what I have at my disposal to protect myself.
I’ll lose everything if I don’t.
Chapter 6
Darius
Flushed,overwhelmed,impressed—thesearen’tthings I’m accustomed to feeling.
In the aftermath of feeding, I seem to awaken just outside Amber’s door. Wide windows circulate late morning light. Has it been that long since I delivered her breakfast?
That’s absurd, I try to convince myself.I never take this long to feed.
The scent of jasmine penetrates my brain. That’s her. That’s how she smells.
It must be some kind of soap because it’s not sharp or harsh like perfume. It’s subtle, alluring in its simplicity.
Much like her.
Disgust rattles me. Angst smacks me right in the face.
I’m a researcher. Ascientiston occasion for the sake of my community. Yet here I stand with a stunned awareness of what just happened, that a bloodbag of all things had inspired a lust in me that I haven’t experienced anywhere else.
If I’m supposed to document how bloodbags influence their feeders, then how do I record such an important detail without sounding like an absolute lunatic?
Or worse, like my cousin Bartholomew.
Any resemblance in the slightest of my behavior to his could damage my reputation. I took it upon myself to document and research the history of our kingdom instead of outsourcing like most other kingdoms. My father approved of the notion, stating it was Rodin-like behavior to grab the bull by the horns, so to speak. It’s on me to make sure our records are accurate.
It’s what separates me from my brother, I reflect.He’s got his duties. I’ve got mine. We’re nothing alike. I don’t lose control.
My feet carry me toward the veranda.
I’m trying not to lose control.
I walk outside without thinking about it, leaning against the stone masonry separating me from a two-story plunge. I try to shake it off, to shakeheroff.
Touching her the way I did felt like falling. What should have made me aroused beyond recognition satisfied something deeply primal. Seeing her get off was more rewarding than getting off.
How can a woman affect me that way?
How can a morsel of untainted blood be so dominating?
Nearby branches rustle. Birds chirp from beyond the leaves, cheerful songs overlapping and inspiring me to return inside. I should be in bed by now. But I can’t shake the way Amber’s blood makes me feel.
When I walk past her door, I feel the knob call to me. The tips of my fingers burn like they’ve been dipped in liquid metal. It’s a sensation that sticks to my flesh, accompanying me to the flight of stairs leading to the third floor.
I don’t have time for social visits. And I certainly don’t have time for socializing with my food.
Even before the bloodlust, Quinn loved playing with his food. I never quite understood such foolish engagements. Amber is my nourishment, not my ball of yarn.