SWNOVELS Forged in Blood: Chapter 52
“Sorry? You almost get yourself killed. You distract my boys from the most important night of the year, and all you have to say for yourself is sorry?”
Fortunately for Ophelia, my rage at her stupidity is drowned out by the intense relief that they did not hurt her. More importantly, no vampire bonded with her and realized what she is. That the two pledges were our own did not cross my mind for a second whilst I was tearing them limb from limb. Nor did the fact that they were probably going to use her as bait, and therefore were calculated and ruthless and exactly the kind of new recruits House Drakos values.
Her bottom lip trembles. “I d-don’t know what else to say.” Her voice is a mere whisper. She winces, pushing herself to a kneeling position and blinks up at me. Her blue eyes are wet with tears, and the sight of her on her knees looking at me like that is enough to shred my last sliver of control to pieces. Desire, powerful and intoxicating, snakes through every part of my body. She submits so willingly and easily that I could …
I close my eyes and focus on Xavier. I have her. She is safe.
Thank fuck! His relief punches me in the gut, but it is followed by a buzz of fear. Is she okay?
Yes. Now get back to work.
On it. But please tell Ophelia I’m going to spank her ass so hard when I’m done that she won’t sit down comfortably for a month.
The hell I will tell her that. The words alone are enough to make my fangs and my cock ache. His relief at her being found is no longer enough to mask the desire coursing through him at the thought of what he is going to do when he gets his hands on her. So I block him out and hope that she will no longer be on her knees looking up at me with that expectant expression when I open my eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I force my eyelids to lift. Dammit. What kind of curse has been placed on me? She is still there, her vibrant eyes locked on my face like she is waiting for permission to move. Perhaps I should be the one to punish her for being so reckless. Right here in the darkness of these woods.
I could pull her across my lap and lift her tiny skirt. Tug down her panties and take all of my frustrations out on her creamy skin. Turn it blood-red. It would be no less than she deserves. And it would surely lead to one thing. My cock aches at the mere thought of it.
“I know sorry isn’t enough, but I …” She shakes her head and tears leak from the corners of her eyes. “I can’t explain it.”
That is suspicious enough for reason to wrestle back control from my base desires. “What can you not explain?”
The soft curve of her throat works as she swallows, and her pulse flutters beneath her pale skin. “It was like I had to come here. Like I …” She screws her eyes closed. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but earlier tonight I had no intention of coming here. I mean, I wanted to, but I knew it would be dangerous, and as much as I wanted to know about the Hunt, I’m not an idiot. I don’t want to die.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “So why did you come here?”
“I had this really overwhelming feeling that the boys were in trouble and they needed me here. I know that’s stupid—what could I do to help? But …” Her eyes widen. “They are okay, aren’t they?”
I nod.
She places her hand over her heart. “Oh, thank god.”
My mind fills with questions. Did something or someone lure her here? Who is trying to hurt her? How do I protect her when I have no idea what she needs protection from? Why does—dammit. There is no time for this. Not now. “We need to leave.”
She nods and plants her hands on the ground to push herself up. Her immediate compliance provides yet more fuel for the ache in my cock, but my attention is stolen by the stream of blood trickling from the cut in her knee. Unconsciously, I lick my lips and my fangs protract farther, painful in their throbbing need to take her.
“You’re bleeding.” The words unintentionally sound like an accusation, and a sweet blush creeps over her pale cheeks.
“Sorry.” Did she just purr that word, or am I imagining things? My senses are clouded by the scent of her blood mingled with my sordid desire to throw her into the dirt and fuck her into her next life.
I tear off a strip of fabric from my shirt and hold it out to her, but she simply blinks at my outstretched hand, her pulse racing and her breathing growing harsher and heavier with each passing second.
I shove it at her, my sanity close to snapping. “To dress the wound. The last thing I need is for you to be bleeding all over these woods on the night of the Hunt.”
Realization dawns on her face, and she reaches out to take the material from my hands. Her fingertips brush mine, and I don’t miss the spike in her heart rate that mirrors my own. Nor can I ignore the scent of her growing arousal.
“Thank you, sir,” she says in a sultry whisper.
Sweet demons of the netherworld. “Stop that, Ophelia.”
“Stop what?” She wipes away the blood before tying the fabric around the wound on her knee.
I suck in a breath. Even the air is thick with her scent. The sound of branches breaking in the distance chases away an image of me simultaneously sinking my fangs and my cock inside her. “Can you run?”
She hobbles forward and winces. “Not fast.”
With a muttered curse, I scoop her into my arms. Her breath hitches, and her body radiates heat. “You d-don’t have to. I can run a little.”
“The sooner we get you out of here, the better.” I do not add that the pledges and hunters are the least of her worries and that she should be most afraid of me. That the resistance I have built over two thousand long years is currently hanging by the very finest of threads.
I take off running through the woods, and she is forced to wrap her arms around my neck. I ignore the way her skin on mine makes liquid heat sear through my veins. Ignore how the beast inside me roars and rattles the steel cage controlling him, ravenous with unparalleled hunger. I force myself not to focus on the delicate weight of her in my arms and how she will feel unbearably heavy the moment right before I set her down. For it will be in that singular moment in time when I will tell myself that I will never hold her again. I shove all of that aside and focus on finding the fastest route back to the house whilst avoiding coming into contact with any other beings along the way.
“I’m sorry I’m so heavy,” she says.
“You weigh next to nothing.”
“You’re breathing kind of heavy.”
That is because I am waging war against all my instincts. Every ounce of restraint I possess has been enlisted to prevent me from taking you right here. To sink inside you in all the ways there are and make you scream your proclamation to the entire world that you are mine. I keep all of that to myself, but I do give her another truth. “I am still working hard to suppress my anger at your stupidity, Ophelia.”
She looks so sad that I almost regret telling her that. I blow out a heavy breath. “So you felt somehow compelled to come here?”
She blinks. “Yes. That’s it. Like something was calling to me. Like I had no choice. Can that happen?”
Who could have done that? Of all the things that seem to happen in Ophelia’s life that put her in harm’s way … or my way—and right now that could be one and the same …
This is not the time for this. My sanity and control are too close to the breaking point. “It is more likely your connection to the boys brought you here.” Hopefully my lie buys me time to figure out the answers to all her questions and mine.
“Oh, I see. Then they won’t be too mad at me, right?”
We reach the house, and I stop running and set her down on shaky legs. I brush a lock of hair behind her ear, and she leans into my touch. She is looking up at me in that way again, full of trust and longing. Heat and desire and impotent rage burn inside me. I am not a man deserving of that look. Not even close. And that is why this thing that seems so inevitable between the two of us can never happen. “They are going to be incredibly mad, Ophelia.”
“But will you tell them I was drawn to them by our bond?”
I shake my head. “You disobeyed them. You must suffer the consequences.”
Her bottom lip juts out, and once again, all I can think of is delivering those consequences myself. I need to get far away from her—for both our sakes. “Go inside. And if you leave this house again tonight, I will deal with you myself. Understand?”
Sweet hell on earth, her pupils blow wide and she gasps in a raspy breath that lets me know she would enjoy that almost as much as I would.
“Ophelia. Now!”
She nods. “Yes, sir.” She spins on her heel and runs into the house.
I blow out a long breath, hoping it might do something to ease the anguish and white-hot need that fester in every cell of my body.
It does not.