Page 28

WE’VE BOTH DONE THINGS

SEBASTIAN

F uck . Stupid. So stupid.

I pace my quarters and force myself to wait.

It’s an hour, or close to it, before Cora finally arrives.

Her eyes widen as she takes in my appearance.

I haven’t changed, so I’m still filthy. My damp clothes stick to me, and my face itches with dried blood.

John’s. Luther’s. Quincy’s. Clyde’s. Ruth’s.

Nat’s. All people I had sworn to protect, to guide, to lead.

Dead, by my hand, their bodies likely burned and buried by now.

I slide my tongue over my lower lip, where I can still taste blood. Not theirs, hers.

I straighten my fingers before clenching them into fists. Witches don’t have supernatural smell, not like vampires, and yet, I swear she knows. She knows that while six blood types came from murder, one came from passion. From recklessness. From the most addicting, dangerous of kisses.

“Well?” I bark.

It’s been close to an hour, and my body still feels like it’s malfunctioning. I’m too jittery to stand still, to do anything but pace and shift and worry .

“She’s fine,” Cora says after a prolonged pause. “I stitched her up.”

“Showered?” I ask. Because while I’d been specific for Oskar to get Cora—and to let no one else in Grace’s room—I’d immediately left after that. It was too dangerous for me to linger. After saving her from my ravenous followers, I’d suddenly needed to protect her from me.

What a crazy, needy little witch. What was she thinking? Was she trying to commit suicide? Tempting me with her warmth, her taste, her literal blood?

I shouldn’t have kissed her at all. It should be a testament to those lips, to the little gasps from that sweet mouth. Her blood should have hazed my thoughts too much for me to kiss her. To do anything but sink my teeth into her palm and drink until there was nothing left.

“Yes,” Cora says. She’s staring at me with a skeptical expression. “I see you haven’t.”

“I was afraid she’d bleed out,” I say.

It’s not true. Her palm was bleeding, but not enough to die. She’d be uncomfortable though. Scared. Worried. Sticky and covered in as much blood as I am.

“She’s fine,” Cora repeats. “I’m surprised you weren’t with her. Lingering like Oskar.”

She’s testing me, but she’s working hard to hide it.

She steps deeper into my room, eyes cautiously scanning her environment.

She rarely comes to this part of the manor, let alone to my personal quarters.

She studies my four poster bed and the wardrobe in the corner, the simple black rug over the scratched hardwoods.

There’s a short dresser, secretly filled with weapons rather than clothes, and a rectangular mirror hanging above it.

Despite the additional furniture and the large space, it’s not much nicer than Grace’s quarters.

It’s basic, stripped. It does have an attached bathroom though, complete with a claw-foot tub and an oversized shower.

The second Cora leaves, I’m going to use both until I’m completely scrubbed of Grace’s scent.

“I heard she held down two vampires,” Cora says, finally returning her gaze to me. “That’s good progress.”

I don’t respond. I’m not thinking of Grace’s progress right now. I’m thinking of her soft lips and her wicked tongue. I’m imagining how her mouth would feel on my cock and what her cunt would taste like.

“What else?” I ask gruffly. “What else did she say?”

Did she tell you she kissed me? Did she tell you I kissed her back? Does she know how close I came to killing her? Does she know I wanted to?

I almost lost control—and I don’t lose control. I’ve been a vampire far too long. I’m not a newborn. I’m not overcome with insatiable bloodlust like the six vampires we met in the halls. I am experienced, calculating, purposeful.

One taste of her sweet blood, and I almost lost all sense of myself. If I’d allowed myself even another second, I think I might have…

“Was there something else she should have said?” Cora asks.

“You’re dismissed.”

It takes all my effort not to roll my eyes. I shuck out of my shirt, and Cora immediately spins, facing the door, rather than me. She’s almost thirty, but she’s a witch living in a house of vampires. I doubt she’s so much as seen a naked man.

“She requested you,” Cora says. “And something called Pad Thai. She said you’d know what that means.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I say. My words are close to a growl, but Cora doesn’t seem to take the hint .

“If she’s causing too many problems,” she says. “Perhaps she can stay in my room. You’ll know she’s safe, and my smell alone will keep vampires from breaking down her door.”

She’s fishing still. I can hear it. Saying one thing, hoping to reveal another. Grace must have said something. She probably told Cora that we’re an item now, that we’re having Pad Thai for date night or whatever the fuck it is humans do in the mortal world.

“You’re dismissed,” I say again, harder this time. When Cora starts speaking, I cut her off immediately. “I’ve already murdered six people today. I would rather not add you to the list.”

It’s cruel, but effective. Cora doesn’t look back as she strides from the room, chin proudly lifted, as if she’s not bothered by me. And maybe she’s not, maybe she knows she has this embarrassing truth over my head.

I flex my hands again. I should storm straight to Grace’s room and set the record straight.

She kissed me .

I kissed her back, but only because I’m a man. A simple man with simple urges.

She’s lucky I didn’t kill her, and if she so much as thinks about trying it again, I will.

I stare at the empty doorway for a prolonged moment before finally striding to the bathroom. I’ll do all of those things, but first, I’m going to shower.

I strip out of my pants and socks, leaving them strewn across the tiled bathroom floor.

A quick glance in the mirror confirms what I already know: I’m soaked in blood.

Even with my clothes discarded, dark red stains my skin.

I stare for another moment before cranking the shower water as hot as it will go .

Aside from the clawfoot tub, which is white and gold, everything else in the bathroom is black. The interior of the shower is black tiles and a collection of soap containers on the wall. I dump an excess of soap in my right palm and use it to wash my hair and body.

I don’t realize I’ve avoided my left hand entirely until it’s the only place blood remains. Water thunders against my chest as I hold my bloodied hand in front of me. Even without smelling it, I know it’s hers. I’d held this hand against her face, right where she’d smeared her own blood.

Despite knowing better, I press the hand to my lips, trailing my tongue over my palm. Sharp electricity spears through me. My cock is already hard. My brain is already fuzzy, desperate, needy.

Fucking needy little witch.

It’s her fault. Kissing me, touching me, when she has no right fucking with my head.

It’s her fault I’m licking her blood off my finger.

It’s her fault I’m gripping my shaft, fucking my bloodied hand, pretending it’s her warm cunt instead.

I let the thoughts consume me, until I’m thinking only of her soft skin and her sunshine hair and those blue eyes. Until I’m coming so hard I lose my balance and have to steady my opposite hand against the wall. My cum spurts across the black tile, and I gasp as I get control of myself.

I stare at the mess, feeling relief and irritation flare through me all at once. I feel better, and yet, I already know, it’s not enough. One kiss, and she’s turned me as needy as she is.

I curse. Wash the rest of her blood off me and pretend I can’t still smell her. Shut off the steaming water and throw on a fresh pair of clothes .

Grace has started a dangerous game, and now it’s time for me to end it.

When I knock, she ignores me. I know she’s in her quarters—Oskar told me as much after I dismissed him.

He lingers behind me, undoubtedly grinning.

I shouldn’t have knocked. It seemed like the thing to do, given the day’s events, but I already regret it.

I’ve set a precedent, an expectation that, just because we kissed, I’ll now be a gentleman and not walk in unannounced whenever I please.

I lift my hand, pausing with it on the doorknob.

“Hells,” I mutter.

I ignore Oskar’s snickering behind me and shove into Grace’s room. Surprisingly, she’s not in bed. She’s just reaching the door, and she stumbles back to avoid getting struck.

Her blonde eyebrows slant, and her mouth mirrors them.

I know what that mouth tastes like .

It’s a stupid, unnecessary thought, especially right now. I grit my teeth, banishing it and all similar ideas from my head.

“You’re supposed to wait for someone to open the door. That’s literally the point of knocking,” Grace says. Blood rushes across her face, staining her cheeks with pretty blush. Still, she works hard to look annoyed. She juts her chin, as if I can’t hear her heart racing.

“You took too long,” I say. I shut the door behind me and lean against it. “I may be immortal, Grace, but even I have my limits. ”

“Please,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You have the patience of a child.”

My mouth ticks into a smirk without permission. I scowl, hardening my features.

“You kissed me,” I say. Accuse might be the better word.

“And you murdered six people,” she deadpans. “Guess we’ve both done things we’re not proud of today.”

“I did what needed to be done,” I say. I level her with a stare. “I’d do it again. Every single time.”

I brush past her and sit on her narrow bed. Her computer sits open on the floor, another movie filling the screen. It’s not the one we watched together, and though I’m oddly tempted to ask about it, I don’t. I sit on the edge of her bed, elbows on my knees.

“Why did you kiss me, little witch?”

I expect her to fold instantly, but she doesn’t. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the door, glaring at me. She must know I can see through her. That I can sense her true feelings. The way her heart races. The distinct smell of her arousal.

“How’s your hand?” I ask, if only to distract from that .

“Good as new.” She faces her palm toward me, revealing a jagged suture line from her index finger to the center of her hand.

Cora stitched her up, but it’ll leave a nasty scar.

She lowers her hand, eyes narrowing. “I had a lot of adrenaline after watching you murder a million people, okay? I wasn’t thinking clearly.

Obviously, if I had been, I wouldn’t have kissed you. So if you can just drop it?—”

“No.”

“No?” she repeats. She finally moves from the door, shoulders tightening toward her ears. “Really, Sebastian? You’re going to lock me up, make insane demands, and control my every waking moment. Don’t you think you could cut me some slack, just this once?”

“No.”

“Sebastian,” she says. Her voice wavers enough that I almost feel bad.

Almost.

“It was stupid,” I spit. “You were bleeding, Grace. You realize how close I came to fucking killing you?”

“But you didn’t,” she says. “I’m still here, at your disposal. You can still use me to break your curse and whatever else you feel like doing to me. You’re still in control, so just…don’t punish me for this. I assure you, I already hate myself enough for the both of us.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, rising to my feet. I’m in front of Grace, grabbing her elbows. Her eyes widen with surprise, and she attempts to step backward. I hold her in place, leaning in until my lips brush against her ear. “You made me taste you, and now, I want to devour you.”

Grace shudders, leaning closer. Our chests touch, and I can feel the hard peaks of her nipples against me. I place one hand on her hip and wrap her hair around the other. With a sharp tug, I tilt her head back, until she’s looking up at me.

Soft. Pretty. Forbidden.

“You want that too, don’t you?” I ask. Her blue eyes blink up at me, dazed and sated. I haven’t even fucking touched her, and she looks ready to come. I breathe her in, letting her blood and arousal cloud my every thought.

“Sebastian,” she whispers. Her voice is as breathy, as delirious as mine. “If you touch me, I swear to god, I’ll never help break your curse.”

With that, she slams her knee into my crotch. I choke out a gasp, releasing her hair as I stumble back .

“Hells, Grace,” I cough. With one hand protecting my balls, I use the other to balance against the wall. The last thing I need is to fall on my knees in front of her. “I wasn’t going to fucking force you.”

“Get out,” she says. She’s crying. Actual fucking tears, running in thick streams down her cheeks and into her mouth. The smell of salt is stronger than her lingering arousal.

“Hells,” I say again. I throw my hands up, moving for the door. “All right, I’m going.”

I don’t look at her as I pass. Still, I can see her surprise in my peripheral. As if she honestly expected me to hold her down and have my way with her.

“I’ll never mention it again,” I bark over my shoulder.

I wrench open the door, slamming it behind me. Then, I tear through the manor until I find the man I’m looking for.

“Master—” Oskar starts, but I wave him off.

“I need you back outside Grace’s quarters. Have one of the humans bring her Pad Thai.”

“Pad…what?”

I don’t let myself explain. The servants will know what she likes. Right now, I need to get back to my quarters. Lick my wounds and pretend I didn’t just get rejected and still call for her preferred dinner.