Heart of Dracula - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,66

fangs slid free of her throat. She felt him pull his head away from her enough that he turned her to look at him. Crimson eyes were glittering with pleasure and that all-consuming intensity she had felt. He was not immune to what had passed between them.

But he had heard her thoughts. He had heard her command.

And he obeyed.

The poor little thing had fainted.

To be truthful, Vlad was not entirely surprised. Gifted with power such as she was, she was still a mortal child. She had endured much in the past two days, and it was clear she had not slept or eaten very much in the time that had passed. And he was not easy on her. He pushed her at every opportunity to see what might happen. And it had been very worth it. Oh, what he had felt from her as they embraced!

He could feel her soul in the darkness of his, pressed against him like a lover in the shadows of the night. Like honey and apples. Like the crisp fall wind. Like life itself, the moment before it blazed and fell away.

He did love the autumn months. They were a celebration of both life and death. The glory of what came before and the remind of what would follow. And she was just that. She was a warm hearth, and he was so cold.

He could feel her need, her desire, her curiosity, and her compassion. And such a compassionate thing she was. Drawn to comfort the monster in the darkness, even as it snapped its teeth at her. My creatures will adore you. They will worship you. You will be a balm to us all. I vow it.

Even as his fangs had been buried in her throat, even as he had threatened to take her life, she was the invading army. He felt her there, inside his mind, pervasive and total in her presence. No one had stepped inside his thoughts in all his years. Let alone some bright-eyed, fiendishly intelligent girl. She rummaged through his memories, dredging up sights he had long since forgotten. He was nothing but an unlocked warehouse to the child. Even as he drank her blood, he was her victim.

It triggered in him a desire that transcended wanting and now was firmly needing. She needed to be his. And he would have her. She was a dangerous toy to play with, and it did little to dissuade him. Indeed, all the opposite. She could undo him, and that thrilled him.

You think you cannot destroy me, my darling. Oh, no. You can. My soul still sits in your hand. Too strong for you to destroy unwittingly, yes. But you could still cast me upon the stones if you wished, cannonball as I might be. He tried not to laugh and kept it to a quiet chuckle. Yes. His little empath was far more than met the eye.

Not that what met his eye was displeasing in any way.

And now he was certain she wanted him. Her pleasure had echoed in his, reflecting at him like a candle in a mirror. Their minds had twisted together and joined as one as he had fed from her. How she had writhed beneath him, as her desire became tangled with his and became too much for her to battle.

It was delicious to watch her succumb to not only her passion, but his. Even as she had pulled open the darkest corners of his mind to peer inside, the gates had opened wide both ways. He was not certain how much of her lust was truly her own or for how much of it he was to blame. If she had not fainted, he was certain he could have taken her here on the cold stone of a stranger’s grave and she would have begged him for more.

Sadly, she had not been able to withstand all he levied against her. A setback or an opportunity, he was not sure.

This is a game best played slowly.

But he would not complain with what he had won already.

What a joy it would be when he could strip away those layers of fabric one by one and take her as he wished to do. As his body demanded he do in this moment, throbbing painfully as it did, trapped in the confines of his clothing. It was so rare that his heart ever beat at all, but it was not that particular organ that felt as slighted as the other.

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