Page 25 of Blood Lovers (American Vampires #1)

Them. And me.

When I get to the greenhouse building , I pull on the door handle, but it’s locked. “Fuck.” And it’s not some cheap lock, either. Zusi has taught me a few of her tricks over the years. I can pick a simple lock. With… tools. But this this is one of those electric locks that come with a code, so my fantasy of being the Dragon Tattoo girl fades pretty quick.

Now what? Unless they left by some other door, I know they’re inside there and if Paul tells Ryet that I’ve been feeding him—that I’m the Black witch he’s been hunting—he’ll never trust me again.

I mean, I’ve been feeding him my blood .

Of course, I have a good reason for this. He was sick. He really was sick. I saw it. I helped him. I would never…

I just blow air out of my nose, frustrated as I walk around the building. Despite the fact that a good portion of this building is made of glass, I can’t see anything because it’s all steamed up from the inside. Which only reminds me that it’s January in Montana and I’m fucking freezing now. I don’t even have gloves.

I come around the corner and end up right where I started. And I’m just about to walk back up the hill to the cabin when a little bit of lavender slips into the corners of my world, tugging at the threads of my mind and reminding me of something.

There is another way in, after all.

One where I don’t have to worry about picking locks.

I look around, searching for people. There are a few guests on the pathway, but they are not close. So I slip into a little cluster of fir trees to shield myself from the wind and close my eyes, willing the dreamwalk to come to me, instead of me being forced into it.

The foggy lavender haze instantly appears and the ease at which this happens takes me by such surprise, I almost pull back. Almost. But then I take a deep breath, let it out, and begin to picture myself inside the glass walls…

And here I am . Inside. The smell of dirt, and plants, and the faint trace of sulfur surrounds me and mixes with the dreamwalk, making it indistinguishable from reality.

What is happening to my body? Am I just standing there in the firs, looking like a zombie?

A voice carries through the indoor forest and I forget about what’s happening outside this dreamwalk. Because it’s definitely Paul. I follow it, but the voice fades quickly and then disappears.

This building did not look that big on the outside but the interior is like a jungle maze. Dirt pathways. Pebbled pathways. Little bridges made of slatted wood crossing thin streams of water.

The trails intersect every dozen feet, weaving this way and that, forcing me to make continuous choices. Surprise, surprise—this building isn’t as straightforward as it first appeared. The greenhouse is a place to get lost over the course of an afternoon with someone you love. It’s a place to explore and discover as you wander through the ferns and underneath a canopy of palms.

Directly in front of me is a huge wall of giant leaves shaped like elephant ears. I push through them, find more, and push through again. And then I finally find an almost hidden, secret clearing that is thick with mist—both my own lavender one and just normal water too. Because there is a waterfall on the far side of the clearing. It falls down a considerable wall of rocks and splashes into a steaming pool below.

The hot springs. And… fresh water, I guess. To cool it down or dampen the smell, or—

Then I see them. Paul is sitting on the ground under a palm tree. He’s naked, and dripping wet, and holding Ryet in his arms. Ryet is bare on top, his jeans and boots still on. But his pants are open and his dick is hard and running up the length of his stomach.

I blink, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. It’s so… not funny, not cute, but definitely unexpected and weird to see a full-grown man clinging to another as he draws blood out in gulps from the neck.

Paul’s eyes are closed. His head tipped back. Enjoying it. And if I could see his cock underneath Ryet’s body, I know he would be hard. Because he is completely turned on.

Which I can relate to, but am still repulsed by. I know what it feels like to have Ryet sucking on me. It’s sexual, that’s for sure. It’s exciting. And once you do it—once you know that feeling exists—you will do it again if given the chance.

So I understand the look on Paul’s face.

But Ryet doesn’t look like he’s enjoying this. It doesn’t look sexual. It looks… desperate. Like he needs this blood or he will die. He’s gnawing on Paul. And my own hand goes up to my neck. I’m sympathizing with that feeling as well.

How in the world is Paul getting pleasure from that?

Suddenly, Ryet pulls back a little, his mouth ringed with blood and his eyes closed. He lets out a breath and even from here I can tell that his body was tensed up—every muscle, every tendon, every bit of it. Because I’m watching the moment when he relaxes and nearly goes limp in Paul’s arms. And I feel that relief right along with him.

It’s a release. A letting go.

Something is happening here. Something that goes far beyond just nourishment or healing.

Paul opens his eyes too, angling his chin downward to whisper in Ryet’s ear. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I know he’s saying something because Ryet is responding. Not words, really. But small movements. Tiny indications that he’s listening, but he can’t move or open his eyes to fully participate.

Then Paul places a hand on Ryet’s neck. Pushing his head down and exposing his throat.

My gut clenches instinctively when I realize he’s going to drink him now.

Ryet is whimpering. Even from across the clearing—with the sound of the waterfall and the buffering of leaves—I can hear these whimpers. It’s the sound of a wounded animal. Something begging for relief. And the relief comes from that bite.

Oh, I can relate. I almost close my own eyes just thinking about it, suddenly craving it too. But I force them to stay open so I can watch what’s happening now.

Paul lowers his mouth down and I lean in—taking a step forward—trying to get a glimpse of his teeth as they meet up with the flesh.

And then he’s drinking and moaning. And Ryet is writhing, his hand between his legs. Grabbing for his hard cock. Pumping it up and down as he is fed on.

And yeah, that’s what it feels like when a vampire puts his mouth on you.

It’s pure lust.

And I can feel it, even from here, I can feel the draw of them both. And how I want them. And how I’ve had them already.

Last night.

It was a dreamwalk, but this is a dreamwalk too, and it all feels so fucking real .

Ryet suddenly screams out, his body tensing again, his mouth wide open, and, for the first time ever, I see that he has fangs.

I push the leaves aside as I step forward, trying to get a better look, trying to see those sharp teeth inside his mouth, all covered in blood. But Paul is in the way, his head dipped down into the crook of Ryet’s neck, blocking my view.

I step out from the ferns and leaves, walking towards them, and I realize I’m naked. It should surprise me, but it doesn’t. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I came.

That’s why when Paul looks up at me, mouth bloody and smiling, eyes bright and yellow-red and beckoning, and whispers, “Come here, Syrsee. Join us now. It’s time for you to get your share,” I do as he says. I keep walking without any sort of hesitation.

This is where I belong. With these two men. No. Monsters. I belong with them. These words are echoing through my head as my bare feet cross the smooth, dark earth on the ground. And when I am standing in front of them, I kneel beside Paul, eyes on Ryet. And then I offer him my wrist without any sort of command telling me to do that.

I place it over Ryet’s mouth and that’s when I finally get a good look at those teeth. They are sharp. Like razors. Like scalpels. But I only just barely feel it when they slip into me, nicking the vein on the other side of my thin skin.

Then I am moaning too. The moment I feel him drawing blood out of me I go limp and fall to my knees.

Paul is petting my head. And when I look up at him, his whole mouth is covered in blood.

I see myself kissing him. Not just licking the blood from his lips like I was last night. But drinking him the same way he drinks Ryet.

I see him fucking me.

I see myself between them both, forever and ever. Unending.

And this is the totality of my desires.

Them. And me. Drinking, and feeding, and fucking.