Page 22 of Nightshades
She’s mine now.
Opening the nearest door, an empty room is revealed. Nothing is in here except dust.
“Detective, we are going to have to talk about this,” I warn.
I try another door, revealing another room with—shocker—nothing fucking in it.
“Do you even live here?” I grumble, trying another door which opens to a bathroom.
Even the bathroom is empty. There’s no shower curtain, no towels, no toothbrush. I begin to worry, wondering if this is even Lula’s home, when I open one last door, and her scent hits me as if I’ve struck a wall.
Bending down again to walk through the doorway, I stand in her room, realizing this is where she must spend most of her time. The room itself is still a bit sparse. It has more personality than the rest of the house.
There’s a long wooden dresser against the wall that seems to be used too. The drawers are worn, and a few don’t have handles. There’s a crack running down the surface of it, and it’s just as worn as the coffee table in the living room.
A mirror is attached to it as well, the edges rusted, and there’s a picture slipped into the groove between the wood and glass. It’s of an older couple on the beach with emerald-colored waters behind them.
The woman looks similar to Lula except older. Her hair is long and brown with streaks of grey, and she has a few more wrinkles on her face. This couple must be Lula’s parents.
“So sorry your daughter is damned to be trapped with a monster like me. I am, quite literally, your worst nightmare for her.” I pluck the photo free and turn it around. No one should be allowed to see Lula, not even her parents’ memory trapped in a photo.
I analyze her room to try to get to know this woman who is my mate. She seems to only live off what she needs, not wants, but there is a trickle of what she loves in this room.
Bright, colorful green curtains hang on the window, the bottoms fur-lined in dark green. Her comforter matches, the very bottom lined in fake feathery material.
Two pillows are at the head of the bed, and a deadly rage builds inside me, wondering who the fuck shares her space.
I’ll kill him to make her love me. I don’t care what I have to do.
A lamp sits on a nightstand, along with a laptop and a bottle of water. A connected bathroom is to the left, where all her toiletries are. The towels are various shades of green.
“Is green your favorite color?” I ask, noticing the way my heart seems to skip a beat in hopes that it is because my entire being matches the glimpse of her personality she’s allowed herself to show in her room.
And there is only one toothbrush, which makes me release a breath.
Good. No one else shares her space.
I set her on the bed, carefully placing her head on the pillow. Picking up a fistful of her hair, I bring it to my nose, inhaling deeply, and drift the silky strands over my cheek.
“You smell so good, Little Dream.” I crawl on top of her, caging her head in with my hands, and drag my nose down the soft flesh.
Her bed breaks, the slabs underneath snapping in half from my weight, and the entire mattress falls to the ground.
“Oops. I’ll fix that for you. You’re going to need a stronger bed so I can fuck you properly in it.” I cut her shirt from her body with a quick slice of my sharp claw, revealing the sexy light blue lace bra.
Her brows pinch together, and she turns her head, pressing her uninjured side of her face against the pillow. A blue and purple bruise spreads across her cheek from hitting the steering wheel.
A feeling of guilt swims in my veins, irking me with emotions. I do not like that my mate was hurt because of me. I’ll have to find ways to apologize. Is there a way I can heal her? I noticed that I heal quickly. The scientists said that’s due to the vampire DNA. If I had her drink my blood, would she heal?
I don’t bleed normally. When I’m cut, black smoke drifts into the air. I’m assuming it’s the nightmare that lives within my skin.
“I’m sorry you hurt yourself trying to save me.” I pop the button off her slacks, and it clinks onto the hardware floor. “You should have hit me, Little Dream. I wouldn’t have been hurt. You’re so sweet to think of me though.” Her zipper grinds as I lower it. “No one has ever thought of me before. Not like that. No one has ever cared about my life before.”
I grab her hips, fisting the material of her pants in my fists, and tug them down her legs. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” My claws tear into clothing, and I rake them down, the threads breaking to reveal her body.
Ripping the remaining shredded pieces of pants from her, I drop the scraps to the floor. My eyes slide up and down her body, my cock emerging from the sharpened teeth.
“Tell me, Lula, have you ever been devoured inside and out before?” I straddle her legs, my cock dragging across her stomach, large puddles of precome pooling on her navel as my want for her drips free. “Let me give you a little tease of what the rest of your life is going to be like.” Roots begin to snake free from my body, wrapping around her ankles.