Out for Blood

“Yes.” She swallowed the wave of fear. This was what she’d asked for. And once she was turned, nothing else would matter. “I also understand I have a lot to learn.”

He sat beside her on the bed, their hips touching. “And I will teach you.” He placed his hand on her rib cage, just beneath her breast. “Calm your breathing. Your heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings. The change will be easier if you relax.”

“As much as I want it, it’s still a hard thing to relax for.” She blew out a long slow breath and stared up at the intricately painted ceiling. The blue sky and darting birds seemed very unvampire-like. “How many others have you turned?”

“Sired,” he corrected her. “And I have sired… enough. When they were needed. My house—you understand what this means? All noble vampires come from one of five houses or families. I am House of Paole. It is a small one. Many think we are not so powerful, but we are.” He shrugged again. “We can be.”

“And because you’re my sire, I’ll be that house as well?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “You are quick.”

“You don’t get to be mayor by being slow.”

He laughed. “I suppose not.” He squeezed her side where his hand still rested. “And now you are more relaxed, yes?”

“Yes. I feel ready.” Or as ready as she was going to be.

“Good.” His face shifted into the jutting mask of bones she’d seen before on Malkolm and Dominic. The face she’d soon wear herself. He bent over her.

She flinched, then laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m not afraid. I’m really not. I’m just… human.”

He leaned on his forearm, his upper body resting lightly on hers. With a gentle look that seemed misplaced on the monstrous face before her, he brushed his fingers down her cheek. “I understand.” He placed a kiss on her jaw.

His cool mouth on her skin sent a shiver through her, alighting every nerve that had been poised to snap at the first instance of pain. His mouth went lower, down her neck. Goose bumps rose across her body and she arched into him, tipping her head back to give him greater access. She closed her eyes and murmured her approval.

The bite came immediately. The pain blossomed out from where his teeth were buried in her neck. She swallowed and clung to him, forcing herself not to cry out or pull away. But a few moments later, the pain faded and pleasure verging on the edge of orgasmic spiraled through her. She was on the bed, but falling, spinning through blissful waves of heat and pressure.

Air shuddered through her lungs, catching in her throat. Faster and faster she plummeted downward. Shadows rose up to meet her, a silky drift of murky longing. The longing grew sharper, the pleasure dissipated, and alarm took its place.

Death had come for her.

The urge to fight pressed hard, heating the air in her throat to a blazing furnace. Her lungs burned, but relief was gone, lost in the sharp spines of pain that held her in place. She dug her fingers into Luciano, clawing at him but all the while willing herself to accept.

He clamped down harder and then… blackness.

The pain was gone, and along with it the need to breathe and the desire to live. A tiny pinpoint of light beckoned to her, so distant it could have been a star. She floated, no way to move toward it, no body to command. The light shifted into the shape of her abuela’s face. She reached out, tried to speak, but she was nothing.

Abuela’s face disappeared.

Bittersweet liquid coated her tongue. She turned away from the foul taste, but it clung to her. The wetness clogged her mouth and ran down her chin.

“Drink.” The command was hollow and distant, as if spoken through a tube miles away.

Her throat convulsed, but the convulsions didn’t stop there. They echoed through her, lighting an icy spark that fired a hunger unlike anything she’d ever felt. She sucked at the source of the liquid. Blood, her new brain told her. Blood that is now life.

Her body came back to her, weakly at first and hard to control, like a toddler’s. Shaking, her hands reached up for the limb that pressed against her mouth. Her eyes opened.

As crystalline as if cut from glass, Luciano smiled down upon her. It was his wrist she clung to, his blood she swallowed. “That’s it.” He nodded. “Drink.”

She did, trying to ignore the sounds drilling into her head. The tick of the clock on the bedside table, the soft gurgle of water through pipes, the scurry of tiny feet somewhere very far away. She inhaled out of habit and a thousand scents filled her nose. Dust, fabric, cleaning chemicals, cosmetics, water, but above all… blood.

“That’s enough, cara mia.” Luciano pulled his wrist out of her fingers with a small struggle. He nodded. “Already your strength grows.” He licked clean the blood left behind, the twin puncture wounds healing before her eyes.

“I need more.” Need did not begin to describe the craving in her belly.

“I know. Your hunger will be overpowering for a few days.” He patted her leg. “I’ll get you some more right now. Stay in this room, understand?”

“Yes.”

“Bene. I shall return shortly.”

As soon as he left, she jumped off the bed. Literally. The small amount of effort she exerted landed her several feet away. She walked to an overstuffed club chair taking up a corner of the room, reached down, grasped one of its bun feet, and lifted. Single-handed, she brought it above her head.

Amazing.