Page 62 of Dark Flame

The biggest kicker is that vampires cherish their Brides—their term for mate—above all else. Mating amongst vampires, a creature who’s naturally solitary, is very uncommon. Not quite to a rarity, but certainly uncommon. So when one finds their Bride, there’s nothing in Heaven, Hell, the Otherworld, or Earth they won’t fight to protect them from.

Hatred and his protective instincts will be a bitch to deal with. For Alec, anyway.

Shame, eh?

I, meanwhile, am enjoying the heck out of this. So settle in, because the drama islongfrom over. We still have to see a certain witch regain her magick and a vampire learn to utterly despise himself.

More popcorn? Maybe candy this time? Hm, choices…

Twenty-Four

HARLOW

Math was alwaysmy shittiest subject, but even I guessed the odds of tonight going as planned were not high.

Successfully escaping from the castle alive and unbroken; I was only about thirty percent certain that would work.

Getting far enough away in the hours until night: fifty-fifty, considering I couldn’t be certain how far away civilization is or how large this forest is.

But once he caught up to me? Told me to run in a voice I felt within the deepest part of my core, where a nearly forbidden desire bloomed? Zero fucking percent.

I had my shot—did I, though?—but once he found me, I knew there’d be nowhere I could run fast or far enough that he wouldn’t catch up again. Which is why when the strange silence is shattered by the single crack behind me, I know the game’s up.

He’s found me. Again.

Arms wrap around my waist, yanking me towards the ground. I think I scream, but the sound’s too tangled in utter fear over what Alec is about to do.

He scared me from the beginning, when he appeared in my bedroom, considering he’s a vampire intent on hurting me. But that fear was only background level, mingling with a curiosity of the unknown. When he paraded me in front of his friends, I wasn’t scared, not really, despite the numerous bloodsuckers who’d kill me without a second thought. Because I knew he wouldn’t let any of them touch me.

I think tonight is the first time I’ve felt complete terror towards him.

This isn’t him being mean or playful in my room or the cell, where all his games have been pointless taunts. No, this is pure danger in its most basic form. His fangs are longer than I’ve ever seen, his eyes a bright, eager crimson. Desperation drips from him—desperation to feed onme. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that my defective cure will make him ill and kill him.

Alec slides his body beneath mine to take the impact of the fall, which I’m grateful for. The moment we’re down, his legs bracket mine and, in a flash, he’s crouched over me. I’m still, motionless in both anxiety and uncertainty as I take in who—what—is above me.

A monster. A literal monster, who doesn’t seem to recall the numerous times he’s reassured me he wouldn’t kill me. No, this is Alec in his ruthless form. It’s the ultimate reminder he isn’t human. He’ll hurt me without blinking, without an ounce of sympathy. He’ll do whatever he feels will serve his revenge needs.

I’m utterlyfucked.

Alec smiles the faintest bit, but it’s nothing friendly. It’s the smile of a victor. Of the predator whose prey got caught in the snare. Of the shadows right before they encompass the light.

He bends, his lips brushing along my neck as his hand wrenches my head to the side. Panic spikes, my mouth opening to yell out his name or something to get him off me, but before the words form, I feelit.

Twin fangs imbed into my neck, right over my pulse, and blood gushes from my body into his mouth, a river of crimson releasing all the parts of me that have been hiding. Alec’s uncovering them all sip by sip, stealing them for himself, baring me in ways no one else has ever been able to.

The initial sting quickly fades into a calming sensation, and I understand what he meant by feeding being sexualized. I may have been terrified seconds ago, but with every pass of his tongue, I’m willing to be whatever he wants me to be so long as he doesn’t stop.

A moan builds in my throat, but releasing it admits what I can never admit.

And then, he stills and stops drinking. A line of blood runs down my neck and over my collarbone before meeting the ground, and slowly, his fangs unhook from my neck.

I should be thrilled, should push him away and take off. Maybe he’s feeling the effects of the cure he assumed he was above. Maybe, for all his talk about punishment, he’s satisfied with only this.

Eyes veiled with red but tinged with black—with restraint threatening to return—stares back, wide—shocked.

“No.”The whisper sounds more guttural around his fangs, coloured with my blood. More slides from the corner of his mouth towards his chin, and I find myself reaching up to smudge it, a trance-like sensation sweeping me away.

He flinches before I make contact, scrambling off me before he’s a blur across the space, pressing his back to a tree. The only movement is the subtle flare of his nostrils.