Blood Harvest (Blood Curse #12) - Tessa Dawn Page 0,1
a pregnancy—then he would have two, not one, offspring to bring to the house of Jadon, possibly rare, precious, coveted female children, and they would belong to him.
To him…
To Braden and Kristina.
Not to Prince Jadon and not to some yet unknown destiny, not to some horrible dreamtime mistake made in a fit of madness and desperation by a sleeping High Mage.
“Shiiiit,” Braden murmured beneath his breath, glancing over his shoulder to study Kristina’s features for the umpteenth time. His head was beginning to spin, and her expression was just as confounded: Her beautiful, normally bright blue eyes were dark with shadows, thick with fear, nearly glazed over with uncertainty…and desperation. Why else would she have offered to do something so personal, so intimate, so permanent? Something she had never been willing to do before?
To couple with Braden before their mating.
To give herself to a seventeen-year-old boy…
Because isn’t that how she really saw him?
Always had…
Likely always would.
Despite the fact that Braden had finally stopped growing at six feet, two inches tall; despite the fact that he was now 200 pounds of hard, sinewy muscle, all strength and cords packed around rock-hard abs—strong as an ox and fast as a cougar; imbued with powers, insights, visions, and wisdom well beyond his years—Kristina Riley-Silivasi had always seen him as a kid, someone she might have to wait a decade to be with.
“Say something, Bray,” Kristina nearly whimpered, twirling a curly lock of red hair around her finger, nervously, even as she sank back into the cream-colored cushions on the large, plush sectional, beneath several soft, glowing, recessed lights, and crossed her ankles in front of her, interlocking the spikes of her stiletto heels.
Damn, Braden thought. She looked so damn beautiful. So damn vulnerable. And what could he say?
He wanted her.
He always had.
And yeah, screw being a seventeen-year-old neophyte in the house of Jadon; he had no doubts whatsoever that he could give her pleasure, make her call out his name, make love to her like a grown-ass male with passion, skill, and dominance.
The instincts were in his blood.
The vampiric passion had always been there, stirring, waiting…rising.
He may have been made by a sire, as opposed to born of the Curse, but he was still a fully matured male vampire. “You don’t mean it, Red,” he finally murmured.
She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered, probably hoping Braden didn’t notice the latter. “Bray, I do. I mean, tomorrow is no longer promised, and we’ve always been really close, you and me. We’ve always been great—”
“Friends,” he interjected.
She shook her head sadly. “I was going to say: ‘We’ve always been great together.’ More than friends, Braden.” She took a deep breath for courage, or at least that was the way Braden read it. “The way you look at me…that time you kissed me, that time you stole my breath…we’ve always been more than friends.”
Braden angled his broad shoulders to face her squarely. “And what if I change so much tomorrow that I no longer remember you, Kristina? What if I really do end up promised to another, and meanwhile, you have two of my kids?”
Kristina blanched at his bluntness, then quickly recovered. “Would that be so terrible?”
Braden shrugged. “For me? No. For you, yeah. Shit yeah, Kristina; that’s not who you are. You could never share me or anyone else. The situation would drive you crazy.”
Kristina studied her bright-pink manicured nails. “I guess I would learn to live with it,” she muttered beneath her breath.
Braden stared at the crease in her eyebrows, the deep lines of worry etched into her frown—did she even know she was frowning? She was sitting on her couch, wearing a nearly see-through white silk blouse over a killer hip-hugging pink-and-white skirt—smooth, bare legs and painted toenails slipped into a designer pair of stiletto heels—trying to appear calm, ready, and certain, even as her soft, sculpted lips were curved into a frown.
One thing Braden knew for certain: The female truly loved him.
She had to.
Because what she was offering was everything.
Her whole heart, her body, the rest of her life.
And for a moment, just a fleeting second, Braden wished he were selfish enough to take her up on it.
He strolled across the living room floor to where she sat on the sofa, braced one heavy knee on the cushion beside her hip, and leaned into her, grasping her high, angular cheeks in his palms, his thumbs anchored beneath her jaw. And then he bent down to kiss her, and he let