Page 25 of Desired for Her Blood

She looks up into my eyes. “You do?”

I nod.

“But you’re the mostin controlperson I’ve ever met.”

My chest tightens. She has no idea. “What I just did to you.” I look away, unable to bear the trust in her eyes. “Ember, you make me lose all control. Every bit of control that I have spent centuries maintaining.”

She inhales a quick breath and her fingers stroke my chest in a motion that builds in intensity as it transfers down to my aching rod and balls.

“I wish it weren’t so dark in here,” she says softly. “I’d like to have seen your face when you lost control.”

No she wouldnothave liked to have seen that. Especially if I hadreallylost control. As much as my control slipped, I held back. I did not come close to doing any of the things my body requires to achieve its climax—something my body has not done for centuries.

But shethinksshe understands what I meant, and so I will leave it at that for now because, if she knew the full depths of my depravity, she would never speak to me again.

As hard as it will be to be around her without permitting myself to fuck her again, even if I have to live out my entire life with no hope of release from this painfully constant erection, it would be much worse to be parted from her forever, or to bear witness to the revulsion in her eyes when she sees the real me.

That realization shakes my own sense of identity.

Why do I feel such a strong attachment to this woman?

I do not even believe in the concept of love, never mindmyability to feel such a mythical thing. So why am I willing to suffer so deeply to be around her?

“That feeling is scary and confusing.” She shifts carefully on my lap. “But the other stuff is worse. The idea that I might havemagicor some kind of power inside me. And that I used it without even knowing.” She shakes her head. “No wonder Axe is scared of me. I’m scared of myself.”

Unable to resist, I release my hands and stroke her back and hair. “Do not be afraid. You will learn how to wield your magic.”

Her back stiffens. “You really think I havemagic? My mother…” Her voice breaks. “If she was my mother.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I had a memory, or remembered a nightmare. I don’t know which.” Her voice cracks. “In my dream, my mother found me… But she was like a stranger to me.” She looks up toward the ceiling. “There was smoke…”

I gasp.

“What is it?”

I shake my head.

She grips my shoulder. “If you know anything, tell me.Please.”

The desperation in her voice nearly breaks me. Not to mention her ability to sense what I am thinking—a talent many possess, but I do not.

“Tell me more about your memory,” I ask her.

“It’s all vague.” She closes her eyes. “I was a baby. Maybe one or two. Hidden somewhere dark. I was afraid, alone. There was smoke, fire.” She shakes her head. “And my mother rescued me.”

Puzzle pieces fall together at a dizzying rate, but the picture forming in my mind is far fetched, like the conspiracy theories circulated by humans on the Internet.

Valid theories must be researched and tested—not developed and shared in such a haphazard manner.

“Tell me,” she pleads.

“Octavia—” I hate even using that name after what she’s done “—ever since she first expressed interest in my research,” I begin tentatively, “she explored many avenues toward finding the Illuminant, some avenues that went beyond my…my areas of interest.” Or the boundaries of my ethics.

Like how I suspect she may have tortured Axel’s family to see if shifters could become Illuminants. I shake my head, ashamed that I might have put that idea in her head.

“And?” Ember prods.