Page 21 of Barely Breathing (Merely Mortal #3)

Chapter

Twenty-One

Astrid leaves as the threat of tomorrow’s blood moon hangs over us. It’s still hours away, but I feel it pressing in. The library feels more ominous than before as I walk past the collection of secrets. I can’t help but worry each book holds a different key to destroying everything I care about. All these rituals, prophecies, and curses. I think of the wizards who must have divined them in the first place. Why bother? What is the point in giving someone the recipe for destruction?

Costin strides to the fireplace, tension radiating off him. I move toward the table to stare at the leather book until the texture blurs. There is no reason to open it, but I hate that it exists.

“Do you think your sister can be reasoned with?” I ask. “If we talk to her and explain how bad all of this…”

Talk to her? I hear how useless my suggestion sounds. What’s my next great idea? Vampire family therapy session? Hug it out? Apologize?

When I look up, he’s staring into the flames.

“I should have protected her.” He’s so quiet I almost miss the words. I’m drawn to the raw pain in his voice and move closer to better hear. “She wasn’t always like this. She was so young, so full of life. Before Marcus...”

I reach for him and hesitate. My hand hovers over his back, not making contact. I want to comfort him, but I’m afraid he’ll pull back inside himself and stop talking.

“Tell me,” I urge.

“We were nobility by birth.” He doesn’t turn from the fire, but his hand lifts, like he wants to reach for something he sees in the flames. “Our father wagered away everything we had. Lands, money, jewels, alliances. When he died, the vultures descended. All he left me was a crumbling castle and a tarnished title.”

“That must have been tough,” I say.

“I was barely a man myself when they sent me home from the battlefront. Then Marcus came to collect a debt. He saw my sister. You wouldn’t know it now, but she was sweet, a little shy, and so pretty despite the fact food had been scarce. As her guardian...” He stretches his hand deeper into the fireplace, too deep. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Costin, don’t!” The smell of burning flesh propels me into action. I move around him and tug at his arm. He allows me to remove his charred fingers from the flames. It has to hurt, but he doesn’t let it show.

His eternal youth fades into a hollow gaze, revealing the burden of his immortality. “We struck a deal. Marcus paid a handsome bridewealth for Elizabeth’s hand. Anyone else would have wanted a dowry, something I couldn’t afford. He had money and could take care of her. By any standard it was a powerful alliance with wealth, position, and protection for Elizabeth. Though if I’m honest, I was happy to send my responsibility away and to have my money problems solved. I was able to pay off my father’s debts and restore my family name.”

I hold his wrist and watch as his charred fingers slowly heal. “Costin, you have to forgive yourself. It was a different time. You’re a different person. I know that is not the man you are today. Look how you’ve protected me my entire life. You’ve changed. You’re a good person. I see that.”

“Time does not change facts.” His laugh holds no humor. “I didn’t listen when she wrote to me. I told myself she was being dramatic and that she needed time to adjust. Even when her letters spoke of blood and screams in the night, of servants disappearing, of Marcus’ inhuman appetite...” His voice breaks. “I failed her.”

I keep holding his wrist. Suddenly his burned fingers turn, wrapping around my forearm to hold me, tightening desperately like I’m keeping him in the present. They dig into my flesh.

“It never occurred to me that I never saw Marcus outside during the day. Maybe I didn’t want to notice it. I didn’t know what he was. Not until Elizabeth came home and slaughtered everyone in the castle. Everyone but me.”

I watch his hand on my arm.

“No, me she tortured so I could experience what I’d sentenced her to. She made me feel every moment of what she’d endured. Then she brought me back, made me like her. She thought being my sire would change our dynamic and give her control.” His free hand cups my cheek, stroking my face with his thumb. “I’ve spent centuries trying to protect her from herself, trying to atone. But I couldn’t stop her from becoming everything she hated.”

I lean into his touch. “You were young, trying to do what was expected?—”

“Don’t make excuses for me. I am long past denying my truth. I was wrong.” His crimson gaze holds mine, and I see past the master vampire to the man beneath. “The things we do to protect those we love are sometimes worse than what we’re protecting them from.”

The double meaning isn’t lost on me. I think of his attempts to protect me—erasing memories, making choices for me, trying to keep me safe.

“When I saw you as a child, you reminded me of her. Sweet, a little shy but also wild and rebellious.” He closes his eyes. “And then that night at the shipping yard, I saw you as a woman, the same age my sister was when she was turned. I wanted nothing more than to protect you from this supernatural world, to take the pain of it away.”

I remember thinking of him as the vampire always lurking in our shadows when we were growing up. I never knew why. He said it was because he promised my grandfather, but I see now it was more than that. His loneliness, and the guilt over Elizabeth, drove him to protect me.

“I’m not your sister,” I whisper.

“No.” A faint smile curls the side of his lip. “What I feel for you is not how a brother feels about his sister.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I’m going to pretend that’s romantic and say I’m very glad to hear it.”

He traces my lower lip. The gentle touch sends shivers through me. “I can’t lose you too.” The words come out rough, almost broken. “Not to Elizabeth, not to the ritual, not to my own mistakes.”

“Then trust me,” I whisper against his fingers. “Let me make my own choices.”

“Can you forgive me someday?” His other hand slides into my hair, cradling my head. The firelight plays across his features, softening them. All calculation and painstaking control fades into raw need and vulnerability.

“I already have.” I find I mean it. With what we’re facing, being angry about the past hardly seems worth it.

When he kisses me, it’s different than before. I feel the soft intensity vibrating through me. His lips move slowly like he’s attempting to extinguish centuries of loneliness. I want to give him comfort and take care of him.

I lean closer, my hands untucking his shirt until I discover bare skin. I let my fingers travel around his waist. He feels warm against my palms, and his deepening kiss makes me forget everything for an exquisite moment. Desire floods me, weakening my knees. He holds me against him.

Why can’t we exist only in this moment?

“Tamara.” My name sounds like a plea. His hands journey down my sides, sparking trails of pleasure in their wake. I want to be closer to him, feel his skin against me. He’s so still compared to my heavy breathing. It gives the illusion of calm, but I feel the hard beat of his racing heart.

Reality fights its way back into my brain. Draakmar is restless and wants to force his will to the surface. I ignore the dragon. Instead, I pull Costin closer, my fingers digging into his flesh. My vampire needs me. I feel the hole in him crammed with eternal guilt and damnation.

We’re surrounded by the sanctuary of the library’s candlelight. The world can’t touch us, or at least it feels that way. Tomorrow brings the blood moon. It ticks closer with each second. I can’t do anything about that right now. But in these few precious minutes before that raging storm, I need to forget everything but basking in the safety of Costin’s arms.

Costin needs to know I trust him after what he shared, and I want to show him. I take the amulet off and set it on the table. Crimson hunger floods his gaze at the offer. His mouth claims mine again before trailing down my neck. His lips discover my racing pulse. I’m completely exposed. Without the barrier between us, every sensation is heightened. His fangs scrape lightly over my feverish skin, and I tense in anticipation of the white heat of his bite. His lips explore, promising and teasing, as his tongue licks long trails. He doesn’t bite, but the thrill of knowing he might at any moment sets my nerves on edge. I shudder in response.

His strong hands glide under my shirt, long fingers splaying across my back. There’s an excitement in knowing how powerful he is and how easily he can overtake me.

“I don’t want boundaries between us,” he whispers against my throat, the tickle of his breath brushes against me like a feather making me shiver.

I lift my arms. He takes the invitation and pulls my shirt off me in one fluid motion. The air caresses my skin. Electricity hums through me in the form of desire. I love the supernatural grace in which he moves, the flex of his perfect muscles beneath tight skin. I feel like we’re dancing to a song only we can hear.

His hands slide down my arms to cup my breasts through my bra. Thumbs brush over the sensitive peaks until I can’t suppress the moan of approval. The lace disappears as quickly as my shirt, only to be instantly replaced by his mouth. He pulls my nipple into a deep kiss, taking his time as if he’s trying to savor my taste.

The air feels cool against my heated skin, raising goosebumps for his hands to chase away. He takes his time and caresses me slowly as if memorizing my form, learning every curve and hollow of my body.

All those moments doubting how I feel seem foolish now in light of what might be the end. My clock is finally running out. I survived my childhood, Conrad, the labyrinth, and an apocalyptic prophecy featuring an ancient and powerful dragon. By all rights, any of those should have killed me. How much luck can one mortal woman have? I’m afraid I’m fresh out of second chances.

The need is too great. I want him to end my torment. I try to unfasten his shirt buttons, but my hands shake. The anxious thoughts racing in my head might be suppressed, but they won’t go away completely. I focus on my body’s growing needs, trying to stay in this moment and push out everything else. The ache in my stomach unfurls, radiating from my sex like tentacles to overtake every tingling nerve ending.

Costin helps me undress him, shrugging out of the expensive fabric to reveal perfect skin. His fingers are completely healed from the fire. Golden light caresses him in ways I want to. His body jolts beneath my touch. I take my time exploring him as he did me. I trace the muscles of his chest, following the definition down to his waistband. A low growl escapes him when I brush past his arousal, the sound more monster than human.

As if by an unspoken understanding, we take our time. I feel the barely contained vampire beneath his skin, full of need and hunger. His fangs are fully extended. And yet he doesn’t attack. I see him struggling for control.

“Are you sure?” His voice is rough with need, and his eyes fill with blood as he stares at my neck. I know what he wants. He’s always trying to protect me, even from himself.

Instead of answering with words, I pull him into another kiss. This time when his fangs graze my lip, I press forward purposefully letting him taste my blood. It flavors our kiss. Some of his control breaks. He moans deeply as his body shudders against mine, and I feel him licking the wound.

The unmistakable lift of his arousal through the smooth material presses hard against my hip. I need more. I need to end the torment raging inside me. I fumble with his pants until his hands join mine to help. An eternity passes before I’m able to take his length in my palm. The air between us is thick with anticipation. I find it hard to catch my breath.

“Tamara.” My name almost sounds like a curse in his gravelly voice. His hands free me of my jeans and I kick off my shoes so I can step out of them. He finds my hips, fingers digging into my ass as he lifts me easily off the floor. My legs wrap around his waist, feeling his muscles straining beautifully against my inner thighs.

`I feel connected to him. There is an invisible thread sewn between us that can never be severed .

He places me on the surface of the oak table. I instantly lean back to give him access to my body. My arm slides into something and I hear the ancient book fall to the floor with a heavy thump. I jump at the sudden sound, but he doesn’t seem worried about the book.

“Leave it,” he says when I turn my head to check.

He continues exploring my length, using the new angle to run his hands down my legs. He massages and caresses a sure path. The amulet bumps against my hand, but I don’t want to wear it. I like the danger of being at his mercy.

The wood is unforgiving against my bare skin, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is the way he is looking at me.

He kisses me everywhere. The contrast between his pliable tongue and sharp fangs sends a shiver over my heated skin. There seem to be two realities—the one we’re in and the one I feel when I’m with him like this. One of his hands pins my hip, holding me in place as he lavishes attention on first one breast, then the other. I squirm to feel him between my legs.

“Please,” I manage, though I’m not sure what I’m begging for. My fingers tangle in his hair, trying to draw him closer, torn between pulling him to my mouth and pushing him between my thighs .

He lifts his head, eyes blazing with crimson promise. “Tell me what you want.”

The sound of the monster is thick in his voice. One hand trails down my stomach, fingers playing along the edge of my sex, teasing my need. “Tell me.”

“You,” I breathe. “Just you.”

His mouth follows his hands. He keeps my hips in place with one hand as the other works magic between my legs. They thrust into me as his mouth clamps down on my clit. I writhe for more.

Just as I’m about to find release, he stops. I cry out in protest and try to sit up.

He keeps me on the table like a feast he’s about to devour. When his mouth finds my neck, I turn my head in invitation. I wrap his waist with my thighs and force my body to slide to the edge. His fangs scrape my pulse point, and the tiny sting only heightens every sensation.

He growls incoherently against my throat and enters me with agonizing slowness, like he’s still trying to maintain some control. I use all my strength to pull him closer to impale myself on his thick cock. We’ve fucked before, but it’s never felt like this.

“Do it,” I command, not caring who hears my cries. I force a violent rhythm against him, bucking for release.

Only this moment matters. His fangs pierce my skin as his cock penetrates my body. The dual sensations are overwhelming—pleasure and pain mixing until I can’t tell them apart. It’s too much. My stomach tightens, and I become lightheaded. Costin’s hungry mouth pulls hard against my neck. My arm drapes over his back. He’s taking too much blood. I slap his shoulder in warning, but his body is moving over mine. That deep need for sweet release wars with self-preservation.

My vision dims, and I worry I might pass out from the intensity.

When he finally pulls back from my throat, his lips are stained red. The sight frightens me a little. I have no time to react as the pleasure takes over. His hips pound into mine with heated abandon, driving me hard against the tabletop. My head tilts back, and I shut my eyes.

“Mine,” he growls, gripping my thighs to keep me next to him.

He stops moving until I open my eyes. He holds my gaze, not resuming the frenzied pace. The slow, measured strokes are too much. Our bodies strain together, pushing and pulling, until the primal need takes over.

My heartbeat hammers in my ears, and I can barely hear anything else. My nails dig into his shoulders. The bittersweet pleasure builds between us. A cry is ripped from me. Climax hits me so hard I freeze into a trembling mass. He follows immediately after, my name a broken cry against my injured throat. For a long moment, we remain perfectly still, connected in every way possible. But as the tremors subside, his forehead drops to mine.

“You are like fire and daylight,” he whispers in awe, “like you could burn away the darkness inside me and make me human again. I wish I could be that for you.”

I catch his face between my hands, making him look at me. I see the marks healing on his shoulders from where I gripped him. “I don’t want to burn away your darkness. I want all of you—light and shadow both. I know you’re a vampire, and there is no coming back from that. Just as I am human, and you accept me for my mortality.”

What I don’t say is that I don’t want to be a vampire. I don’t want to drink others to live.

Something breaks in his expression. His mouth finds my neck again, fangs scraping but not breaking skin as he licks the wound as if to help it heal. Next, he pulls me to sitting and kisses me gently, still tasting of blood and passion.

When he releases me, it’s to pick up the amulet. He hands it to me. “You should put this back on.”

I do, watching him lift that horrible old tome from the floor and place it down next to me. I hate that book and everything in it. The firelight casts long shadows across the library walls, and the weight of history and prophecy feels like it’s closing in once more. I want to throw the book into the flames and watch it burn. If only it were that easy to stop the ritual.

The amulet heats as if the dragon is angry at being ignored, and with it comes the strange sensation of memories trying to surface. Not mine this time, but older. Ancient.

“Stay with me,” he whispers against my lips, drawing me away from Draakmar’s needy demand for attention. “Whatever comes tomorrow...”

I kiss him to shut him up, not wanting to think about blood moon rituals or choices yet to come. I need time to stop. Right now, in this moment, I just want to feel loved.