Page 126 of Immortal Bastard (The Order of Vampires)

She was working on several physiological theories at the moment, Stockholm syndrome quickly becoming the least concerning. Sure, Christian kidnapped her, bit her, killed her, turned her, dictated to her, fucked her, spanked her, dominated her, and yet, she found herself less and less willing to leave him—actually dreading it at times.

And now she was salivating over him like a Pavlovian dog. The mere sight of Christian turned her inside out. She wanted him, but not just sexually. She wanted his blood.

She was starving, and the cravings were making her insane. Food simply wasn’t cutting it anymore, and while she blamed him for that excruciating inconvenience, every time she thought to yell at him, she was distracted by her desire to bite him—seriously bite him. Sink her teeth into his flesh, puncture his vein, and drink like a possessed cannibal.

Disgusted—and turned on—she glared at him. She ought to rip that savory—juicy—dripping—plump—delicious—chicken right out of his beautiful mouth.

Her chair scraped back and she stood. “I’m taking a bath.”

“Call if you need a hand.” He sent a vision of his hand dipping under water to stroke between her legs. She rushed up the stairs, needing to get as far away from him as quickly as possible.

It was the blood. She knew it was the blood.

This relentless, ever-present hunger crawled through every cell of her body demanding to be fed. Never in her life had she wanted something this badly. Her need for sustenance was literally consuming her every thought.

Maybe meat would subdue the cravings. That wasn’t as bad as drinking blood, right? Or was it? If she ate meat, an animal had to die. But if she drank the blood, there would be no going back. She’d be one of them.

Pacing the floor, she considered her options. What if the animal was already dead? There had to be some beef lying around the farm waiting to be eaten. She could just ask Christian to cook her up a steak. A nice rare steak.

Rare, or raw?

“No!” She shook her head and continued pacing. He was right. She should have never named the animals.

Becoming vegetarian when she was a teenager had been easy compared to this. This wasn’t a usual hunger, it was bone-deep and insatiable.

Her body instinctively recognized Christian as a food source. Her voracious thirst tied her unquenchable need to his body in more ways than she could handle. She wanted him inside of her in every possible way. Mind, cock, tongue, fangs, blood, all of it. She needed him. Desperately.

Delilah, do you have need?”

No! She snapped, still unsure how to boot him out of her head. But even that gentle presence brought a swift sense of relief.

Maybe if she just ate some meat, she’d feel better. Digesting protein was less repulsive than drinking blood. There were plenty of animals on the farm. But she couldn’t do that, not to poor Bessie. But maybe a pig. Pigs were known to bite. She might not even need to do the killing. Christian would hunt one down if she asked him to. Not that there was much of a hunt, being that the pigs were living their best pig life chilling over in the pens.

“Oh, God, poor Wilbur and Forrest.” She doubled over and held her stomach as she waited for the kettle of water to warm.

She couldn’t do it. But if she could, how would she do it? Bacon? Pork chops? Ribs? No, she wanted him fresh squeezed.

The door opened and she jumped to her feet. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

Christian stilled and raised a pail. “I brought you more water.”

She shook off her Silence of the Lambs thoughts—Ooh, lamb!—and dropped back into the chair.

A wave of lightheadedness tingled through her. She blinked, her vision going wonky for a moment as she swayed, falling forward. “Christian?”

He poured the heated water from the kettle into the tub. “One more should do—Delilah!” He caught her before she hit the ground. “Delilah, look at me.”

His image wavered as woozy sensations pulled at her equilibrium. “I don’t feel so good.” Her limbs went numb and her neck went limp.

Through a dark haze, she heard him call her name. Over and over again, until his worry consumed her. She called back, weakly, but he couldn’t hear her.

Christian…

“Delilah, open your eyes. I command you to look at me.”

The impulse to abide his wish rode her every nerve but she lacked the strength. Cool fingers touched her face, lifting her eyelids and measuring her pulse.

“Please do not hate me for this, pintura.”

He lifted her limp body and carried her away. No…Don’t leave me. Christian…

Seconds passed like eons when his touch disappeared. Her worst demons taunted her. He left her. That was it. She was too much and he was taking his love away. Her stomach cramped painfully. She wanted the pain to end.