“I don’t give a rat’s rear end about what you need,” I countered, feeling myself growing more upset by the second. “You’ll learn to take what we give you, or you’ll get nothing. You’re forcing us to help you. We’re not going to just waltz around and pretend this whole ordeal has been a bed of roses for your benefit, so back off!” I stood and angrily strode from the room, knowing the bedroom Vance had just entered was the only sanctuary I had available, so I pushed through the door, shutting and locking it behind me.
The shower was running in the bathroom, so I went over and crawled into the bed, pulling the cover ups until they were over my head. I snuggled down into my little self-made cocoon and closed my eyes.
My thoughts naturally drifted back to Vance, and over our estrangement of late. I didn’t care for the ever widening gap that was moving between us, but seeing neither of us was willing to budge on our view of the issue, it didn’t seem that we would be reaching a resolution anytime soon.
I never knew how lonely the world could be.
I was unaware I had fallen asleep until I felt someone lightly shaking me.
“Portia,” Vance’s voice softly permeated into my subconscious mind. “Baby, it’s time to get up. Damien wants to go over some things with us, and he’s also booked you an appointment at a salon to get your hair done for tonight.”
“What time is it?” I asked groggily, trying to wake up with a slight shake of my head.
“It’s after two.”
“Two o’clock?” I said, astounded. “Why didn’t you come get me earlier?”
“I figured you needed your rest.”
I pushed the covers down my body before stretching lazily, like a cat, trying to stir my muscles and get the blood flowing. Stifling a yawn, I glanced at Vance, only to catch him casting his gaze over my form.
His eyes returned to my face after a moment and were flaming with a palpable desire.
I swallowed thickly—suddenly aware of his pulse pounding in his neck, and the memory of the taste of his blood flooded my mouth, causing me to salivate even more.
I wanted him.
He wanted me.
Running a hand through my hair, I sat up slightly and licked my lips as I looked at him with hesitantly.
“I … I’ve got to go do something,” Vance said, his voice strained, and he left quickly.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to still the longing inside me. It was bad enough I craved him physically all the time—adding wanting to drink from him on top of that didn’t sit well with me.
Unfortunately, the more I tried not to think about the way he tasted, the stronger the urge became.
Grumbling softly in frustration, I got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen to see if I could find something sweet to eat that would take the edge off for me.
I walked into the small area which contained an icebox, and I opened it to look inside. I gasped out loud at the sight in front of me.
Jar upon jar of blood lined the shelves in the refrigerator. I hadn’t even considered the possibility Damien would’ve brought a supply that didn’t include a live donor. I mean, this made sense actually, because it was easier to travel with and saved having to bring someone else along.
I looked at the cold blood, and my stomach turned a bit at the thought. I couldn’t imagine it would taste good chilled like this. I closed my eyes and remembered Vance’s hot, sweet, blood searing through my veins.
My eyelids popped open, and I reached for a container. I had to know if this would stop the craving I had for him.
I unscrewed the lid on the pint and lifted the liquid to my nose, taking a cautionary sniff. It smelled okay, not like anything really, so I lifted the glass to my lips and took a tentative swallow.
I closed my eyes and sighed.
It tasted good, so very good. Cold, yes, but still thick and sweet, and I decided I needed more because that small sample wasn’t enough. I tipped the glass again taking a larger swallow, and I realized I could taste the magic in the blood. I felt it as it began to slowly seep through my system.
This thought gave me a slight pause because I knew this blood had to come from somebody. I stared at it again, and a gnawing hunger suddenly gripped me.
I needed more. This wasn’t enough to satisfy me.
Lifting the jar to my lips, I started guzzling it, trying to replace that sensation, fulfilling that craving I felt with Vance. But somehow it wasn’t sufficient.
Frustrated, I soon realized I’d drained the jar completely. I sank to the floor, setting the empty container beside me, and I reached for another one, quickly opening it.
I devoured the contents of this one as well and reached for another one. It tasted delicious, but still I was left craving.
Draining the third pint, I grabbed the next jar, trying to find the satisfaction I was looking for. I was frantic, trying to drown myself in the flavor. I could feel the blood running out of the sides of my mouth, and dripping onto my chest in my haste to consume whatever I was desperate to find.
I needed more.
“Portia? What the …,” Vance’s voice trailed off in surprise, breaking into my frenzied moment, and I let the jar slip from my grasp. It shattered when it hit the floor, spraying the remainder of the contents all over me.
Quickly I stood, turning to face him guiltily, before lifting my chin a notch to stare at him in defiance. I felt the blood still dripping from my chin, and I swiped the back of my hand across, but felt as if I only smeared it worse.
I maintained eye contact with him while his wide eyes traveled in a path from my head to my toes then over to the mess and empty containers on the floor.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” Vance said, his blue eyes glancing back, drilling into mine.
“I was thirsty,” I said, folding my arms, challenging him to say anything against me.
He said nothing, only continued to look at me, though I could see a tick working near the back of his jaw from clenching his teeth so hard.
We sat staring at each other for several moments, before he finally moved slowly toward me. He stood right in front of me, and he reached out to trail his fingers under my bloody chin.
“Why?” he asked softly.
I wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking me, so I picked an answer I felt that would best suit me and my argument. “Because I knew you wouldn’t feed me, and I knew you wouldn’t let me feed you either.”
I could see thin streaks of red beginning to fill his eyes. I didn’t know if this was because he was angry or if he was aroused by something.
“Do you feel better?” he asked, his voice laced with concern, but the continued flexing of his jaw belied his calm demeanor.
“No,” I said honestly, with a slight shake of my head. “There’s something wrong with the blood. It tastes okay, and I can feel the magic, but somehow it’s not enough. It doesn’t truly stop the craving. It only makes me want more.”
Vance’s eyes flamed fully at this comment. He stepped closer to me, leaning to put his forehead against mine, and he gathered me into his arms.
“Oh, Portia,” he whispered. “What have I done to you?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, trembling at his nearness, the beating of his strong pulse almost drowning out the sound of his voice for me.
“The blood you drank isn’t as strong as mine. You’re craving me specifically. That’s why you can’t quench your thirst.” He lifted his head slightly to place a small kiss against my forehead.
“Is this what you feel like when you drink from someone else?” My gaze locked on the throbbing artery that pulsated just under the skin in his neck.
He let out a tortured sounding half laugh. “Yes, but only about a thousand times worse. Your blood is so much stronger than mine. Everything else pales in comparison.”
“How can you stand it?” I asked, my knees shaking so hard beneath me now I had to cling to him for balance.
“I can’t. It’s constantly driving me to distraction,” he groaned weakly. “Why do you think I have such a hard time staying away from you? I feel like it’s killing me sometimes.” He let out a sigh of exasperation.
“Bite me, Vance, please,” I begged him, my skin on fire under his touch, every nerve in my body screaming for release. “Feed me,” I added. “I can’t take it anymore. It hurts too much. Please help me, and let me help you too.”
He hardly paused a second to consider my words before he opened his mouth to expose his fangs and tore into his forearm, drawing blood. He lifted his arm to my face, and my mouth greedily sought out the wound as he slipped his hand into my hair.
I could feel him knot his fingers into the silky strands, yanking my head to the left. I struggled to keep his arm tightly against me as I sucked in generous gulps from the wound.
He sank his teeth into my neck.
My body jerked hard, and I cried out at the intimate contact. Vance grabbed me to him with his free arm, holding me close until he had backed me up against the counter.
I couldn’t believe the power our bond was creating between us as we performed a true exchange, blood for blood. It was both selfish and the ultimate gift … all in one moment.
Vance carried it even further—linking his mind with mine. The emotions he felt added to the bloodletting, making me cry out from total and complete intimacy of the moment.
“Well, well. What have we going on here? A consensual exchange?” Damien’s voice broke into the moment.
I opened my eyes and glared at him, but didn’t release Vance’s arm, continuing to draw blood, and he remained at my neck as well.
“Stop it, now, you two,” Damien ordered, but we both ignored him, or tried to anyway. “I said
stop
!” Damien’s voice came louder this time, and he threw an energy wave out that knocked us both apart, throwing us to opposite sides of the room.
I was tired, and I didn’t feel like I had the strength to fight him, so I slumped back against the wall. I lifted my hand to wipe some of Vance’s blood away, licking each finger greedily, sucking at the remnants that were there.
Vance looked worn out, as he toppled slightly to his side against the cupboards.
“What the hell were you two thinking?” Damien growled, looking between us. “We have a mission to complete tonight! This isn’t something I can just reschedule! I have to have that artifact!”
I closed my eyes, too exhausted to care even though I could feel the fury emanating from him.
The next thing I knew, Damien was sweeping me up into his arms, cursing at me under his breath as he carried me to my room, laying me gently on the bed. He grabbed me by the chin.
“Look at me!” he ordered, and I desperately tried to lift my eyes to meet his. He tilted my head roughly, his gaze hard and glittering like ice, and I could feel him use his magic to freeze my body. “I’m canceling all your appointments for the afternoon. You will lay here and build as much energy as you can before the party tonight. Thankfully you should repair more quickly this time since you were replenishing what he was taking.”
He studied me intently for a moment before bringing his lips close to my mouth, so close they brushed repeatedly against mine while he spoke. “If things don’t go as planned, remember I’ll consider that a break in your contract, and I will collect!” He dropped the rest of the way, pressing his mouth against mine briefly, but roughly, licking over it with his tongue, before he moved to my ear. “I hear you two when you’re together. You know that, don’t you? Trust me. I can’t think of any debt I’d rather collect more.”
He moved so he could look into my eyes.
I glared at him as hotly.
“I mean it, Portia,” he said, the heat in his voice dripping over me as he slipped the back of his hand down my arm. “I’m a man of my word, most of the time. But you I want, and you I mean to have, one way or another.”
There was a crashing sound, and suddenly Damien fell on top of me, wood splinters flying all around him. I looked up to see Vance holding pieces of a broken chair in his hands.
He reached out and grabbed Damien, rolling him off me and onto the floor, before he straddled him.
“I said stay away from my wife,” Vance snarled, and he staked Damien through both sides of his chest with the wooden pieces he had in his hand.
Damien groaned loudly, and a dark stain began to spread quickly across his chest.
Vance stood, stepping over his father and crawled into the bed with me, dragging me into his arms, completely ignoring the fact he’d left Damien bleeding and writhing on the floor.
Damien slowly crawled to his feet, the makeshift wooden stakes protruding from him, and I could hear him wheezing when he tried to breathe. He made his way to the door.
“Come and get us when it’s time to get ready to go,” Vance said sharply. “Not a second before.”
Damien didn’t reply, staring hard at Vance before slipping out into the other room.
“You okay, baby?” Vance crooned against the top of my head, his lips brushing my hair with a faint kiss.
I nodded, even though I had tears in my eyes.
“Just go to sleep, Portia,” he said, hugging me. “He won’t hurt you now. It would foil his plans.”
I curled up next to him as close as I could get, smelling his blood that was still seeping from his arm.
He knew exactly what I was doing, and he lifted his arm to me. “Lick it off, and then you can heal it,” he suggested.
I did as I was told, though I wished I could’ve had more, and that thought stayed with me to torture me in my dreams.
The person the mirror reflected look older, but ethereal as well, and I realized the stylist Damien had hired last minute was a true master of her trade.
My black hair was piled intricately on top of my head in swooping curls which were set off with a small red ruby and diamond hair comb that resembled a miniature crown.
My make-up was just as expertly done, with my eyes dark and smoky, my pale skin powdered to look translucent, but with a slight hint of blush added to all the right places, and my lips were shining with the barest hint of red.