If it wasn't for the soreness between my legs and my throat, I would've thought it all as a drug-infused dream.
I rub away his blood on my lips, all the way down to my neck with the towel he tossed me swiftly before he ran off.
I shudder at the sight of blood, mixed with both his cum and mine between my legs, clear evidences of our sex. I wanted to cry, tears burning the back of my eyes from an avalanche of shame, despite how hard I try to push it all away.
I wipe the few drops of tears that have escaped with the back of my hand before picking up the towel again, rubbing away as much of the dried blood and cum as I can. I ignore the remnants of his cum smearing across my panties when I pull it up along with my jeans, buttoning it right so I wouldn't be tempted to do it all again. No matter how good, it had felt.
I can't believe what we've just done. This isn't me. I won't even let a man kiss me on the first date, let alone losing my virginity to a stranger. Not just any stranger, at that. He's an enemy. A former patient of mine. A government test subject I illegally released. Now I've made us both fugitives.
Oh god, what have I done?
He didn't even ask me if I'm alright. Just up and left me on the bed like a used whore with his blood still on my lips, and his cum is still dripping out between my legs. It's like something had spooked him.
Was it the fact that I drank his blood? He drank mine, too, didn't he?
This is getting ridiculous. I'm not even in love with him. I'm not even sure I like him. But still, it wold've been nice if he'd been kinder, the way he handled things. He can pretend like it meant nothing all he wants, but I can't. It's already settling in, like a slow dull ache I can't quite shake.
I got up, my eyes scanning through the mess we've made.
There's a violent jagged crack in the wall above the bed that made me cower in shame. Another on the wall where I shoved him away. But it wasn't until I saw the blood on the sheets that the shame really sink in.
I turn away.
"We're leaving once the rain stops," he announced all the way from the living room.
I could hear him moving around the kitchen, then. Metal clinking, drawers sliding open and shut.
"What are you doing?" I asked, stepping into the doorway.
He was digging through the drawers, laying out knives on the dining table one by one. Most of them are too rusted, too small or too dull to incite any real damage. I would know. Knives are my thing.
"Looking for weapons," he murmured, huffing out a frustrated breath before moving on to the backpack he'd put on the table. I didn't even realized he had packed one.
He rummaged through its contents before tossing a blood bag in my direction. "Here, have a pack."
He said it like he's offering me a pack of cigarettes.
"I'm fine," I said, shaking my head.
"No, you're not going to be," he replied, turning away to open the fridge, the both of us wincing at the stench then he closed it back again.
"You're a newborn," he said, bracing his hands on the edges of the dining table, thick veins protruding beneath his skin. As if he sensed my gaze, he pulled back and stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"You're going to be hungry again, especially if I'm the one who turned you."
"That's ridiculous," I scoffed, folding my arms and refusing to touch the blood bag on the table. "Only the strongest vampires can trigger that kind of reaction to newborns."
"Exactly," he replied, leaning against the counter behind him.
"Haven't you read my files?" he asked, his brow raised.
"Of course," I replied, trying to recall the vague memory. "But it wasn't anything specific. The one who brought you in wasn't even a real hunter. He was just a soldier who happened to be in the right place at the right time."
"Then you still don't know who I really am," he stated.
"None of us did," I replied. "You were the first vampire we've caught in years."
"They said I've been there for weeks," he muttered, jaw tightening at the memory. "I'm surprised it took you this long to uncover so little."
I pressed my lips together, hesitating before admitting. "I only got clearance on your case recently. Most of your files are still classified."
"You're sort of a youngling, then?"
"A student researcher," I corrected, my tone sharper than intended, annoyed by the slight curl of his lips. "I was one of the top candidates in my class. That's how I got into the program."
He rounded the table, moving closer and stopping just a foot away from me.
"So you're telling me that I just bound myself to a student?"
My eyes flicked to the wound on his neck, then drifted back to his face that's already hardened with both hatred and desire.
"Bound?" I echoed, confused.
He frowned, pursing his lips as his eyes darkened into a deeper shade of red.
"Don't do that again," he ordered.
"Do what?" I asked. "And what do you mean 'bound'?"
Only the strongest vampires can turn a human without driving them mad with bloodlust. Ravić is one of the most powerful we've captured in years. If he weren't, he wouldn't have survived weeks of torture and starvation and still managed to escape.
I also haven't turned insane, so that confirms the data on his file. He truly is one of the strongest.
"You will not taste my blood again," he declared, the lilt in his voice more distinct.
"Why?" I asked, not because I want to . I was curious.
He stepped closer, his brows furrowed as if he questioned how I dared to defy him.
"Because it's forbidden," he bit out.
We are doing that silent dance again. Me retreating with every step he took forward.
"Then why did you do it?" He did, bit me first.
"Because I'm your sire," he said it like it's a fact the moment my waist hits the foot of the sofa. "Not the other way around."
His eyes searched mine, making me feel like I'm standing too close to the fire. There was no hunger in the way he looked at me, no threat. Just a quiet, disarming intensity that made my pulse trip, echoing the rain relentlessly beating down the ceiling above us.
I simply couldn't look away.
A crease formed between his brows. Not in frustration, but in thought. As if whatever he was seeing in me, unsettled him.
"Drink the blood bag," he commanded, his red eyes practically glowing. Maybe it's a trick of light. We're standing close to a fire, after all. "Don't make me force it down your throat like the last time."
He walked back into the kitchen like nothing happened.
"What do you mean by 'bound'?" I asked, trailing after him into the kitchen. Something just doesn't feel right about this. "How am I bound to you? Besides the obvious?"
"You're the scientist, you figure it out," he said, picking out the sharpest, and least rusted knife.
I huff out a breath, feeling both frustrated and helpless.
"Look, the fact that you're still asking me such basic questions, tells me how little you know of us," he pointed out, wrapping the steak knife with a dirty rag he found by the sink.
"We do," I admitted quietly, watching him strap it into his boot. "Or at least I did."
He turned back to me, his irises turning into a dark shade of green.
"Drink the blood," he said, sliding the blood bag across the table. His voice was low, a steel beneath it. "I'm not joking, Rosie."
"I don't want to."
His eyes narrowed. "Why not?"
I hesitated. "I don't want to feel like that again."
That hunger. That clawing need that drowned out all thought and reason, scraping what was left of my humanity. There had to be another way.
"If you're worried you'll need my help like that again," he said, his red gaze so sharp it made want to shrink back, "don't bother."
His jaw clenched. "That won't happen again."
He didn't blink when he said that. Didn't even breathe.
"You were the one who offered," I bit back, offended.
It's not like I expect anything grand from him. But a little kindness wouldn't hurt.
"A mistake, on my part," he admitted it so casually, I wanted to slap the shit out of him.
Did he even realize what he'd stolen from me?
There are two things, to be exact. Two things I'll never have back.
"How dare you," I breathed.
He didn't even flinch. Didn't bother pretending like it meant anything.
"What?" he snapped like I was the one being unreasonable.
I didn't think. I rounded the small table in one sharp motion and slapped him. Hard.
And god, it felt so good.
The unnatural way his head snapped to the side. His hand flying to his cheek, stunned, that I would do such a thing. Might I say, the sight is way better than sex.
He grabbed my throat, and slammed me on the table so hard, one of its legs cracked. I shouted when the knives he laid out digging onto my back. All three of them.
"I should just kill you right now!" he growled, his piercing eyes turning black, pressing my body harder against the knives.
"You're no use to me anyway," he said, quieter this time like he was trying to convince himself more than me.
"You're still a student," he said flatly, slamming me again on the table.
"You didn't even have full access to my files." Slam.
His eyes narrowed, colder now.
"What makes you think you could get me out?"
"C-connections," I rasped out against the pain. I could feel its jagged edges scraping my skin, as it stitches back together.
He yanked me close by the neck, lifting my upper body effortlessly as I held tight to his wrists, my nails sinking into his skin, breaking it and drawing blood. He didn't even flinch.
"What connections?"
"I have contacts in the city who could get you out," I told him. "They used to work for the government, they'd have clearance."
He narrowed his eyes, loosening his hold. "What makes you think I can trust them? Or you, for that matter?"
"Because they owe me," I said.
He tilted his head. "How?"
"That's classified."
He didn't look convinced. Though his eyes had turned back into the shade of blood I'm used to. So I relax a little.
"You can kill me and end my misery," I said, "but you know I'm the best chance you've got."
His grip on my neck loosened into something almost possessive as he pulled me closer. The sharp inhale he took from the crook of my neck caused my thighs to clench, but I try not to let it show.
"I should just take a bite and see if you're lying," he muttered, more to himself than to me. His accent so thick it sent a shiver down my spine.
"You're bound to me, after all," he murmured again, his eyes glowing against the dim light into a deeper shade of red. Like the devil.
"There's no point," I breathed. The thought of him having that part of me...now that I'm sober, it feels like a violation.
His brows drew together, confused, as if he hadn't expected me to say that.
"Why would I lie to you," I whispered, "when even the humans are hunting me down?"
He didn't respond. He just looked at me, unreadable, his expression uncertain.
So I made it clear.
"I need you protection."
That seemed to do it. He dropped me from his hold, causing me to stumble back. If it hadn't been for my quick reflexes catching the wobbly table behind me, I would've fallen back against the knives again.
"Would it kill you to be gentle?" I muttered, rubbing my neck.
He ignored me and proceeded to walk over to the other side of the table, putting some space between us and handed me the blood bag.
"Drink," he said, voice firm. "I'm not going to say it again."
Not in the mood to pick up another fight, I relented. I take it from his hand, tore open the seal and drank, glaring at him with defiance the entire time. If only vampires could shoot lasers from their eyes...
He ignored me and disappeared into the bedroom.
I hear drawers being opened and shut, so I stepped into the hallway just to see what he was doing.
He was rummaging again, in the bedroom this time. Opening and closing drawers, muttering something under his breath in a language I couldn't quite understand. Despite with my enhanced hearing.
It sounded old. Ancient. So ancient, I wasn't even sure it still existed.
Just how old is he?
No, more importantly, who is he?