Twice Tempted (Night Prince #2)(51)
Author: Jeaniene Frost

Then the kaleidoscope of colors became distinct shapes and Vlad came into focus. His black pants and indigo shirt reeked of smoke and burnt rubber, but under that, I caught the rich aroma of blood, and everything else vanished.

I leapt on him, seeking those luscious traces with an urgency that had me tearing into his skin and clothes with my new fangs. He murmured something I didn’t comprehend in my search for the source of that scent. Part of me was appalled at my savageness, yet the rest only cared for one thing.

Blood. Need it. NOW.

Vlad shoved me away, one hand holding my snapping mouth at bay while the other reached behind him. That inner burning had returned, ravaging me with pain so intense I couldn’t think past the need to make it stop. Then ambrosia slid down my throat, dousing my anguish so thoroughly that grateful tears slid down my cheeks. I swallowed as though I was trying to drown, my eyes closing with relief so profound I thought I might pass out.

Then something else edged through my relief. Anger, followed by a tidal wave of the rawest, most unbridled emotion I’d ever felt. Calling it love was likening a spring shower to a hurricane, and when I realized it didn’t come from me, but the vampire still holding my jaw in an iron grip, I was shocked.

"I can feel you."

The whisper made his gaze gleam brighter than I’d seen before, yet now, it didn’t hurt to hold his stare.

"Because your shopping deception cost you your humanity."

The harshness in his tone would’ve made me flinch except for the fresh surge across my emotions. More anger, yes, but born from fear of losing me. I hadn’t thought Vlad was capable of being afraid, yet it threaded through my subconscious along with another wave of love’s seething, unhinged second cousin. I thought his controlling behavior stemmed from arrogance, but it came from a pathological need to protect me. If I wasn’t still fixated on thoughts of blood, I’d be amazed at all he’d acquiesced to while that compulsion raged in him.

Then another crippling pain hit me, erasing the rest under a hunger so severe it was like starving to death a thousand times in the space of seconds. I would’ve collapsed if not for Vlad’s grip, and before I could scream from that awful inner burning, a new mouthful of ambrosia took the agony away.

I swallowed as greedily as before, this time returning to my senses before he pried the sodden shreds of plastic out of my hands. Plasma bags, I noted while licking my hands clean with an impulse I couldn’t control. How modern of him. If memory served, I’d be a blood-crazed maniac for days until I garnered enough strength not to murder the first living person who crossed my path. The thought was depressing.

Then another realization belatedly struck.

"How am I a vampire instead of a ghoul? I remember dying . . ."

And seeing my mother. That stunned me into momentarily forgetting my question. She hadn’t been a dream or an illusion; I knew that as surely as I knew my own name. That meant there was something after death. I’d never believed it because I hadn’t seen it from the other deaths I’d relived, but maybe glimpsing what lay beyond had to be personally experienced.

Vlad’s grip loosened until he stroked my throat instead of restrained my jaw. "My blood wasn’t enough to heal you this time. It did, however, start the transformation process."

"How?"

His teeth flashed in a humorless smile. "In normal transformations, I’d drain you to the point of death before having you drink my blood. You drained yourself to the point of death with your injuries, and you had enough of my blood in you that the additional amount I gave you tipped you over the edge."

Then his hand dropped, rage-infused anguish scraping across my emotions before he went on.

"Of course I didn’t know that until after you died, when suddenly, you began tearing at my throat."

I didn’t remember that, nor did I have any recollection of being brought here. The last thing I remembered was seeing Shrapnel hauled up by guards and Vlad kneeling beside me.

"Gretchen. She’s okay, isn’t she?"

"Minor injuries only."

This time the relief I felt wasn’t fueled by ingesting a bellyful of blood. "And Sandra?"

"More serious injuries, but she’ll recover."

I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know. "Shrapnel?"

His mouth tightened. "Where he belongs."

That meant the dungeon, no doubt. Maybe that’s where we were, too. This room looked like a fancier version of one of Vlad’s prison cells since the walls, ceiling, and floor were solid rock with no apparent exit, but there were two stacked mattresses in the corner covered by several thick blankets. That hadn’t been standard in the dungeon accommodations I’d seen, though the absence of lights was –

And I could still see perfectly. I blinked as if expecting that to change, which of course it didn’t. No light illuminated the tight quarters, yet I saw every inch down to the red smears streaking the walls that smelled so good I wanted to lick them. When twin pinpricks of pain jabbed me in the lip, I knew my new fangs had sprung out again.

I closed my eyes, feeling overwhelmed. I hadn’t wanted this so soon and I didn’t know if I could handle it. But ready or not, I was now a vampire. My hand slid down my chest to my heart. Twenty-five years of beating, and yet forevermore it would be as silent as a drum that someone had abandoned.

When I opened my eyes, Vlad was staring at me. He said nothing, yet an odd mixture of empathy and ruthlessness strafed my subconscious. You brought this on yourself, his emotions seemed to relay, but you will not face it alone.

I stared back, noticing a tiny scar by his nose that I hadn’t seen before. That wasn’t the only thing. His skin no longer seemed pale; it looked faintly luminescent, as though covering a light he carried within. His hair wasn’t merely dark brown, but a rich collage of black, umber, and chestnut. The air around him crackled with energy, and when he stroked my throat again, his hand tingled as if he were the one suffused with inner electricity.

"You’re different now, too," I said in wonder.

His mouth curled; half mocking, half amused.

"You’re a vampire. You see details humans are blind to, sense powers they don’t understand, and feel emotions more strongly than they can even imagine."

Then he grasped my hair, using it to pull my head back before lowering his mouth.

"Now feel this," he muttered.

The rough caress of his stubble and sensual suppleness of his lips paled next to emotions blasting across my subconscious. Lust tore through me like a flash fire, almost dropping me to my knees. It burned my nerve endings as thoroughly as the hunger had, but not with pain. Instead, I was overwhelmed with a need to dominate by pleasure until rapturous screams rang in my ears, and to do it right now.