Page 26 of Blood Lovers (American Vampires #1)

The real thing is so. Much. Better.

I am not here . But I’m not there, either.

I’m nowhere. I’m nothing.

But at the same time, I feel like everything.

My body is on fire—but in the best way. I writhe, sucking on Paul’s neck, lost in the moment.

But then… something feels different. Something has changed. It’s not his neck, it’s his wrist.

I don’t care. Just don’t pull the blood away. Ever again. Don’t. Please. Don’t.

I’m begging only inside my head because I’m so lost in the ecstasy of the blood lust, I can’t feel anything outside of myself. I’m just… floating. Floating in pure satisfaction. Like this moment is my heaven. My reward for all those shitty decades that came before.

Paul’s arms are around me. Holding me. Cradling me like I’m his something special.

And I am. We are special.

It’s been him and me for so long now. Forever, I think.

And why? Why have I been pushing him away when he tastes like this? I feel the loss of all the blood I could’ve had. All the moments of lust. I should’ve been sleeping with him. Feeding on him. Letting him touch me any way he wants. It’s not like I actually mind it. It just felt like selling my soul all over again every time I felt the need for the blood.

But it’s different now. I don’t know what changed, but something has.

I want him.

Desperately.

I pull back and relish in the feeling of the blood dripping from my lips, the sticky heat of it, the smell. The tickle when it slides under my jaw and down my neck. “Don’t leave me. Paul, please don’t—”

“Shhhhh.” Paul is smoothing my hair away from my sweaty face. “Don’t worry about that. Just drink now. Drink.”

So I do. Press my mouth back into his wrist and suck it all down. Like a fiend. An addict. Some sick creature. But I don’t care. I don’t care about my soul, or my other life, or my future, for that matter.

All I want is for this moment to exist into eternity.

All I want is Paul. The monster who made me. The only being in this brutal world who loves me.

This is when I realize that I’m jerking myself off and it just adds to the whole experience. The building pressure inside me. The blood rushing through my body. The climax, so close now. But I hold back. I don’t want it to come. Because that is an ending and I’m not interested in endings right now.

But Paul must have other ideas. His hand wraps around mine, helping me get there. “No…” I moan it out. “Not yet.”

“Shhhhh.” Paul is petting my head, and jerking me off, and feeding me.

I get lost this. In the totality of what’s happening.

But something is wrong.

Something is not making sense.

I try to open my eyes, but there is nothing in front of me but a wash of lavender.

“No.” I almost sit up, but Paul pushes me back down.

“Stay still, Ryet. Drink. All you have to do right now is drink. Soon, you will feel better.”

Feel better? I feel great. But the purple… “Paul, tell me this isn’t a dream. Tell me—”

“Shhhhh.” He guides my head back to his wrist, smoothing the hair off my face and jerking me off…

Wait.

I realize my eyes are still closed. That I’m not in a dreamwalk. But my lids are so heavy, it takes every bit of strength I have to slowly, deliberately, forcefully insist that they open.

And when they do, I see her face first.

I pull back from the feeding to whisper her name. “Syrsee.” And I smile. Because I think I love her. And then… then I realize that she’s here. Really, here. Because it’s her wrist I’m wrapping my lips around and—

Suddenly the lavender haze clears. Like one moment I’m in a mist, and the next I’m standing under the clearest blue sky ever.

“Syrsee?” I sit up, Paul trying to push me back down, but I wriggle away from him. “Syrsee?”

She’s not here. But she was.

I look at Paul. “What the fuck is happening?”

“Just relax, will you? For once? You’re so uptight, Ryet.”

I look down and find that I have come all over myself. My stomach is sticky with it.

It was her hand on my dick, not his.

It was her wrist in my mouth, not his.

Paul must see me working things out in my head because he pushes me off him and stands up. “OK.” He sighs. “Welcome back. I hope you enjoyed it.” He’s got his back to me, bending over to pick up his clothes. He pulls his pants up his legs, then turns to face me, smiling as he tucks his hard dick away. “But remember”—he zips up his pants—“this was but a tease. The real thing is so. Much. Better.”

I get to my feet, also tucking my dick away. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Paul steps towards me, closing the distance between us and reaching for my face. He places his hand flat on my cheek and smiles at me with bloodied teeth. Sharp fangs that he almost never shows me. So he’s doing this on purpose right now. “You know what I’m talking about. Your dear little Syrsee.”

“What about her?”

“Come now, Ryet.” Paul’s voice is sharp now. “Stop being such a clueless idiot. It was her you were sucking on just now. It was her blood giving you that bliss.”

“No.”

“Oh, yes. This time it was just a dreamwalk but she’s been feeding you for daaaaaays , Ryet.”

“No.”

“You’ve been sick. You know this.” He slides his hand up my cheek, once again smoothing my hair away from my sweaty face. “You’ve been sick.” All the sharpness gone from his tone now. “It’s the end of you, you see. Your days as my scion are over now. That’s why you’ve started to remember them again. It’s all coming back because you’re dying , Ryet.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Paul smiles again. Bloody teeth. “It’s time to change, my love.”

“Change into—” But I already know. “Into you ?” I turn away from him, grabbing my hair with both hands, my eyes searching for my shirt and jacket. I find them on the ground a little way away, pull my shirt over my head on instinct, then shrug the jacket on.

“Where are you going now?”

I ignore him.

“ Ryet .” His tone is stern.

I look around, confused. I know this building. I helped build this building. I know the design of the gardens, I know how to solve the maze of pathways, I know how to get out. But I’m… lost. Just completely lost.

So I just stare at the jungle in front of me. A metaphor of my life. Something wild, and untamable, and confusing.

And then I remember the most important bit of information of this whole conversation.

The betrayal.

Now I know exactly where I’m going.

I push through some large, heavy leaves and find the pathway that leads directly to the door. I follow it, leaving Paul behind.

He doesn’t come after me, or call out, or anything like he usually does when I make my predictable escapes.

Because he knows. He doesn’t have to anymore.

You’re dying, Ryet. She’s been feeding you for days .

I push through the door, banging it on the outside wall, and there she is. Coming out of a little grove of fir trees, her face flushed, her eyes wide.

“Ryet?”

I shake my head at her. “Who are you?” My voice is trembling with anger and shame.

“Listen to me! I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t know what ?”

“I didn’t know who you were—”

“You’re the witch. You’re the Black fucking witch!”

“I didn’t know!”

“Like fucking hell you didn’t! I was chasing you! And you… in the truck, outside the diner. Crying. Vulnerable. Waiting for me!”

“No! That’s not how it happened!”

“How? How did you do this to me?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You were feeding me, Syrsee!” I’m screaming these words and they echo through the valley. Shaking the snow off the trees around me.

“You were sick!”

“No.” It comes out like a laugh. “No. You’re the sick one, Syrsee. You’re the sick one! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“You were—”

“Fuck that! Who cares! You fed me! You gave me Black blood. Do you have any idea what that means?”

She just stares at me with wide eyes.

She doesn’t know. I understand this. She was probably not in on it. Paul tricked her too. Somehow, some way, he tricked her into feeding me.

But I don’t care if it was an accident.

“You have turned me into him , Syrsee. That’s what you’ve done.” And just as I say this, Paul comes through the open door of the greenhouse, smiling. Satisfied. Fixing the collar of his white button-down shirt like he’s coming out of a hotel room after fucking a high-class whore.

“You’re so dramatic, Ryet. You were born for this. You were bred, blood lover. You were bred. For me. For her. For this moment. For our future. For the new line. For the new empire. None of this was an accident.” He stares intently at me, his eyes flickering with color. Red, orange, yellow. His words are stinging. Meant to sting. “You. Have always. Been mine .”

I turn away, walking quickly, making my escape. My fingers jingling the truck keys in my jacket pocket.

Syrsee calls out, running after me as I make my way along the pathways towards the parking garage. She grabs my arm, but I turn, jerking her off me, baring my teeth at her with a viciousness I have never felt before. “Don’t. Touch me.”

She recoils, putting her hands up in front of her face, like I might strike her.

This fills me with shame, so I just turn and lean into my retreat.

And this time she doesn’t come after me.