Page 137 of Loreblood

Unlike my response from that time, when I claimed his honor was greater than mine for denying my lust after my bloodletting, Garroway simply gave me a wicked smirk on his beautiful lips.

“Oh, I’m in complete control of my mind, little honey badger. I daresay my mind has never felt so controlled. My body though? I’m about to lose control ofthatif I have to stand here one more second without having every inch of you to myself.”

Chapter 42

I lunged at Garroway. My body was a fortress of desire and lust, penetrated by this dhampir who had transformed from my rival to my enemy to my friend.

Our lips laced together, fervent this time. The gentleness from before was gone, tossed aside just as quickly as his words left his mouth.

The words are a promise,I thought vaguely, even as Garro swatted my tongue aside with his and dominated my mouth. He claimed me, holding me tight against him, my back against the cold stone wall.

Every fiber of my being begged for him. I’d never craved so intensely before, as if everything he’d told me had unlocked a hidden part of me I no longer could hide.

We had been close in the Temple of the True. Close to desecrating that holy place and damning ourselves for eternity in the eyes of the True spirits.

Now I was determined to cross the threshold into damnation. I begged for it, prayed for it.

Garroway’s hands were rough, digging through my clothes into my skin. He held me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world to him.

And I realized Iwas.

If his connection with Skartovius is truly severed,Iam the only thing he has to hold onto. The only thing that might keep him sane.I wondered something else.If he’s lost his vampiric connection, does that mean he might beregaininghis humanity?

It was a baffling concept: an ageless monster of the night reverting back to how he was before he was born.

Grayskins, dhampir, half-bloods . . . they’re born into this. Unlike a vampire who is turned from a fullblood through a bloodletting ritual I don’t understand, it’s different for someone like Garroway.Thralls turned by vampires weremade. Thralls born to a vampire and human wereborn.

So can he be unborn or remade?

That brought up the next and final logical thought before all logic flooded out of my system the deeper I kissed Garroway.Can my Loreblood return someone like Garro to a life he’s never known? Can this power inside me truly be strong enough to end the reign of vampires . . . by destroying everything they control?

My tongue touched the tip of his fangs. He made a sound in my throat. His body pressed hard against mine, so stiff it felt he was about to burst free from his pants.

So I helped him along. We became a flurry of tangled arms and legs as we undressed each other right there and then, over the smoking, rotted body of Dimmon Plank.

The sound of hurried rustling filled the jail cell as our clothes were discarded and tossed haphazardly aside. Our eyes never left each other. We had become each other’s entire world.

I reached down between us, eager to relieve Garroway of the pent-up tension built up between his legs. His cock was hard, smooth, thick. It was hot as the sun, nearly scalding my hand with its heat—an unnatural heat—as if the dhampir’s blood was afire.

Oh gods. Does Vallan’s name for me have truth to it? “Silverblood.” Does it mean my touch can kill a vampire?

My worry was quickly denied when Garroway simply grunted as my hand wrapped around his velvety length. “Fuck, lass, Inever expected your touch to feel so lovely. I suppose I should have, since everything else about you is lovely.”

I smirked, parting our wet lips long enough to say, “Flattery doesn’t suit you, Garroway. I don’t want your kind words. I want your hard cock railing into me and making me scream.”

He choked out a sound at my delirious desire. I felt crazed, emboldened, and it only spurred his lust forward.

Garroway went to his knees. His hand trailed between my heavy breasts and lightly ghosted over my peaked nipples before landing at the apex of my thighs.

I put a hand on his head, watching as he licked his lips and leaned forward.

“I can smell all of you,” he muttered.

I made a face, wrinkling my nose. “Okay, maybe flattery is better thanthat.”

He laughed and looked up, eyes begging me to let him do his worst. “You misunderstand, lass. I simply mean the scent of your blood is so strong I can practically taste it on my tongue.”

My lips parted, throat dry.