Read Online Beloved Vampire by Joey W. Hill - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joey W. Hill
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vampire endured two losses. However, if Raithe had only partially done the mark, was it possible another vampire’s third mark could heal her, keep her in the world?
He shook his head at himself. This woman was a fugitive. If the vampire world found her, she’d be executed summarily. Dealing with her, and them, would be excessively complicated. The best thing was to let her die.
Take me with you . . . Don’t want to be alone.
Some vampires believed a third-marked servant was bound to them in the afterlife. If there was any truth to it, he might be sending her back to Raithe’s keeping, in whatever Hell the vampire was in now.
What was the matter with him? He typically scoffed at such ridiculous ideas about vampire afterlife. She was too far gone, besides.
It might not work, and if it did, but left her in this state, then he would have to kill her himself to end her suffering.
Her heartbeat was a scant thump every few seconds now. He thought of her gray eyes caressing his face, the brief flash of hope in her recollections. In that second, he’d seen a glimpse of who she’d once been. The laughing woman in the photo, which had been snapped before Raithe took her. Probably when he’d been stalking her, the bastard.
He also thought of that eerie laughter when she’d realized he was a vampire, and understood the desolate irony in it now. But her hand was still gripping his. Holding on.
She knew you would have died to keep her safe . . .
“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done,” he informed himself, and then leaned over her. Turning her head to the side, he ran his knuckles down her cheek and jawline, soothing her. She murmured in her delirium, but when his breath touched her cheek, one weak arm slid up to his shoulder, as if welcoming him into her embrace. I imagined myself with you in your tent . . .
He bit as gently as he could. Fortunately it was merely one more discomfort among many, and it didn’t stir her from wherever her mind now wandered. He could inject her with pheromones, ease the bite’s pain with increased arousal, but at this point he didn’t think any jolt to her blood pressure would be wise. When he tasted her blood, if there was any doubt left, he knew her words to be truth. He tasted her essence, her age, felt the imprint of Raithe’s marks upon her.
At that distasteful impression, he started the first mark in her blood, overlaying Raithe’s claim. He was much older than Raithe, so even if Raithe lived, Mason could have overwhelmed his mark and had a stronger hold on her. If nothing else, habiba , I can keep you from being his in the afterlife, if such nonsense is true.
Though she couldn’t yet hear his thoughts, her fingers dropped, closed on his biceps. Her body lifted up to his incrementally, an unexpected offer of surrender that stirred his blood on instinct. But then she jerked, as if disturbed, fighting him at the same time.
“Shhh, habiba ,” he murmured, keeping her in her fantasy with the endearment, drawing her back from whatever dark place his bite had started to take her. “You are in my tent, here with me. Lying upon silk cushions. You inhale the scent of rich wine, for I have poured it upon your flesh, to drink from your skin . . .”
He heard her soft sigh, and kept going, releasing the second-mark serum, giving him the ability to speak in her mind and fully seal his mouth over the puncture mark.
I kiss your mouth, your breasts, worship every inch of you even as I declare you mine, the way my heart and soul and breath are mine . . .
I am yours, my lord. In all ways. I have no fear of it.
He closed his eyes, his hands tightening on her body despite himself. Farida’s own words when he’d third-marked her, when she’d shown no fear of what he was. This woman’s mind was broken, her thoughts echoing words in a memoir. This was a mistake. He was bringing back to life a creature who needed the healing only death could provide. He could see into her mind
He shook his head at himself. This woman was a fugitive. If the vampire world found her, she’d be executed summarily. Dealing with her, and them, would be excessively complicated. The best thing was to let her die.
Take me with you . . . Don’t want to be alone.
Some vampires believed a third-marked servant was bound to them in the afterlife. If there was any truth to it, he might be sending her back to Raithe’s keeping, in whatever Hell the vampire was in now.
What was the matter with him? He typically scoffed at such ridiculous ideas about vampire afterlife. She was too far gone, besides.
It might not work, and if it did, but left her in this state, then he would have to kill her himself to end her suffering.
Her heartbeat was a scant thump every few seconds now. He thought of her gray eyes caressing his face, the brief flash of hope in her recollections. In that second, he’d seen a glimpse of who she’d once been. The laughing woman in the photo, which had been snapped before Raithe took her. Probably when he’d been stalking her, the bastard.
He also thought of that eerie laughter when she’d realized he was a vampire, and understood the desolate irony in it now. But her hand was still gripping his. Holding on.
She knew you would have died to keep her safe . . .
“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done,” he informed himself, and then leaned over her. Turning her head to the side, he ran his knuckles down her cheek and jawline, soothing her. She murmured in her delirium, but when his breath touched her cheek, one weak arm slid up to his shoulder, as if welcoming him into her embrace. I imagined myself with you in your tent . . .
He bit as gently as he could. Fortunately it was merely one more discomfort among many, and it didn’t stir her from wherever her mind now wandered. He could inject her with pheromones, ease the bite’s pain with increased arousal, but at this point he didn’t think any jolt to her blood pressure would be wise. When he tasted her blood, if there was any doubt left, he knew her words to be truth. He tasted her essence, her age, felt the imprint of Raithe’s marks upon her.
At that distasteful impression, he started the first mark in her blood, overlaying Raithe’s claim. He was much older than Raithe, so even if Raithe lived, Mason could have overwhelmed his mark and had a stronger hold on her. If nothing else, habiba , I can keep you from being his in the afterlife, if such nonsense is true.
Though she couldn’t yet hear his thoughts, her fingers dropped, closed on his biceps. Her body lifted up to his incrementally, an unexpected offer of surrender that stirred his blood on instinct. But then she jerked, as if disturbed, fighting him at the same time.
“Shhh, habiba ,” he murmured, keeping her in her fantasy with the endearment, drawing her back from whatever dark place his bite had started to take her. “You are in my tent, here with me. Lying upon silk cushions. You inhale the scent of rich wine, for I have poured it upon your flesh, to drink from your skin . . .”
He heard her soft sigh, and kept going, releasing the second-mark serum, giving him the ability to speak in her mind and fully seal his mouth over the puncture mark.
I kiss your mouth, your breasts, worship every inch of you even as I declare you mine, the way my heart and soul and breath are mine . . .
I am yours, my lord. In all ways. I have no fear of it.
He closed his eyes, his hands tightening on her body despite himself. Farida’s own words when he’d third-marked her, when she’d shown no fear of what he was. This woman’s mind was broken, her thoughts echoing words in a memoir. This was a mistake. He was bringing back to life a creature who needed the healing only death could provide. He could see into her mind
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