Page 19 of The Vampire’s Mercy (Blood Melody #1)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

PARIS

The searing pain stole my breath away, my body going limp. Cold fire surged through my veins, spreading to my brain.

No. No. No. I knew what he was doing. The worst kind of torture would be to make me like him. A vampire bound to his heart, forever at his mercy, never to see sunshine again, doomed to suck on the blood of innocents.

Drain me dry to the point of death, then feed me his blood. That’s how it worked, right? Well, after he’d approved the new vampire’s life to begin.

Please…please, no…

This was his mercy, huh? I should’ve known. Should’ve anticipated the ultimate of all prick moves.

But he stopped after a few seconds, lifting his head. My blood ran over his lips, his eyes brighter than before.

“Delightful,” he said, bringing his right forefinger to his mouth.

The cold fire continued to flow through my veins, keeping me silent and still.

Silvanus pierced his finger with a fang, blood spilling down it.

Shit…

He brought his finger to my lips, smearing them with his blood. “Be mine to command, Paris Raine. Serve me. Love me. Want me.” He squeezed drops of blood into my mouth.

Oh. Shit.

The taste of all my favorite foods and drinks hit my tastebuds, magnifying within seconds. Ice cold beer, caramel shortbread, a big bag of salted and fried sweet potatoes. Overwhelming, amazing, infuriating.

He didn’t want to make me a vamp, but a thrall.

That was much worse. Thralls were caught somewhere between vampire and mortal, bound to the vampire king, dependent on his blood. Servants, staff, even fuck buddies. If I didn’t get his blood in me every three days, I’d first go mad, then die.

“Don’t…” I tried. “Don’t…”

“It’s too late, elf,” he whispered.

The sudden rush of his blood blew my mind, healing me, chasing away every ache quicker than my own power.

The flavors, the way the blood turned the cold fire into an erotic warmth were beyond awesome. I lay there, rock-hard, filling up with him, binding to him. My mind reached to His Majesty, sliding into the gates of his special core. Joining with him, already wanting to please him.

Kind of.

The executioner part of me kicked and screamed, rejecting him. It was confused by this desire, hating him harder. A real conflict of emotions, making my heart sputter and my stomach flip.

I’m his.

I’m mine.

He sat up, straddling me. “Done.” He snapped his bloody fingers, my body returning to my control.

But I still couldn’t move, the weight of this change heavy, the firmness between my legs a raging ache. My mind lurched from side to side, confused at my next move. I wanted to hurt him, but the notion of violence against my king was slapped down immediately.

Not my king! Not my king! Not my fucking king!

“Now you are mine,” Silvanus said. “The first of your kind. I’ve never had an executioner thrall before.”

Kill him…

Serve him…

“Lucky me,” I bit out, as weak as a puppy, my desire still growing.

He raked a hand through his hair. “This is worse than death, isn’t it?”

My dick says no. “Yeah… You’re… You’re…” I swallowed, sweating just about everywhere.

Why was it suddenly so hot in here?

“You’re one cruel prick,” I said.

He laughed. “I could say the same about you.” He climbed off me, noticing the tentpole in my jeans. “You will be sleeping here tonight.”

Kill him…

Serve him…

I pushed myself up on my elbows. “Isn’t that dangerous for you, my king?” Dammit! I never meant to say that!

He laughed, poking my inner beast. “No, Paris. Your nature might be resistant, but a thrall bond forces you to be a pacifist. You can’t commit a violent act unless I allow it.”

Yeah, I did actually know that.

Damn. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t tainted with vampire shit, disgracing my sister’s memory, forced to turn away from Aidan.

Never. I’ll never forsake you, Aidan. Please save me from this. I beg of you…

I had to be strong. Prayers weren’t enough. Aidan would want me to fight, to be strong, to not let this scum bag win.

He’d given me the crystal blade.

Yes! Because there always light in any darkness. Now I just had to get through this change, and things would start heading toward a sweetcream finale.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I watched the king. His blood swam inside me like liquid joy.

“Enjoy the luxuries of my chambers,” he said. “I have the best room in the palace.”

“Obviously, my king,” I countered.

Thank Aidan I could still clap back, the flicker of compliance when I’d called him king now gone.

Silvanus chuckled. “This is going to be interesting.” He pointed to an arched doorway ringed with ivy. “Use the bathroom. Clean yourself up.” He wrinkled his nose. “You stink.”

Yeah, the pongy pits were back. Maybe I should stay smelly to keep him away from me.

Silvanus went out onto the balcony, letting chilly air into the room. The leaves rustled, his body bathed in moonlight.

So hot. So fucking hot.

“Come back and fuck me,” I muttered, my hand moving to my bulge.

He closed the doors behind him.

“Please, Majesty…” I whimpered. “Get on this bed and pound the shit out of me.”

I let out a wail, rolling off the bed. I hurried toward the bathroom, finding another forest room with a ginormous pool at the center with a huge rain shower head hanging above it.

The grass floor was so soft on my feet, like a plush carpet.

Vines and leaves and jasmine were everywhere, fairy lights twinkling, an arched window letting the starlight in.

In an alcove tucked away to the side, behind a frosted glass door, I found a toilet. I bent over it and puked my guts up, clinging to the rim.

Oh, Aidan. Oh, blessed Aidan.

Tears burned as hot as my guts, my sobs echoing in the bowl.

This couldn’t be happening. This had to be a nightmare.

“I’m not a thrall,” I said.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

But I didn’t wake up. This was real.

What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t live as his thrall.

I puked again.

My dick throbbed, a sexual antidote to my panic. I stroked myself through my jeans, a stray thought snaking in.

Being this close to him put me in constant killing distance. I might be on his leash but, as he pointed out, I was the first of my kind. I’d smash this condition and smash him.

I laughed into the toilet bowl, hand on my dick, trapped in a swell of hate and desire, longing for his blood and touch while craving his death.

I unzipped myself, freeing my boner.

Is this what he wanted? Awesome. I’d be his thrall. Let him wrap all the chains around me and pull them tight.

“I’m yours,” I whispered, getting to my feet while stroking myself. “I’m so yours.”

Chains, chains, chains until I found the weak joint.

I laughed again, stroking myself harder.

I’d be a patient sniper waiting for the best moment to strike. Watch and learn, absorb everything until my chance lifted its head over the parapet. My blood was designed to resist him, and one day it would break his hold.

“I fucking promise,” I said, spitting on my dick for lubrication.

You’ve screwed yourself, Silvanus.

“Oh, Your Majesty,” I whispered, increasing the rhythm of my strokes. “I think you’ve made a new monster.” King Silvanus. King Silvanus.

My head was filled with King Silvanus. His hotness, his demise. That body, those eyes, that voice, his scent.

Let it all burn.

I beat my dick harder, moaning, drowning in thoughts of lust and murder. Spinning and spinning and spinning, racing toward climax.

His blood. His breath. His death.

My balls tightened, the sensation in my dick a feral vibration, a force like no orgasm I’d experienced before.

“Fuck!” I cried, ejaculating into the toilet bowl. “Fuck!”

My knees buckled under the intensity of my release. I went down, hot cum leaking over my hands. It wouldn’t stop gushing, pleasure consuming me.

I collapsed onto my back, writhing under the exquisite gratification, my heart a million drums in my chest.

Shame on me.

Shame on me.

Shame. On. Me.