Daughter of Nyx (Book Three)

Chapter Three

The next day, she didn't see him. Which was fine. Dinner the night before had been an awkward affair, tense and silent. He watched her without saying a word and while once, she would have preferred that, she missed the conversation.

But then, there was also the matter of the thin white line that ran over her stomach. Even after all the time that had passed, since her 'mother' did the same thing he did, it had helped to heal her. That was probably not his intent. But, it helped her and satisfied him. She screamed and he eased the reminder of her weakness.

She sat in the living room, waiting on the sofa for him to come in and he never did. At first worried, she was now getting angry. Was this going to add a day? He should have spoken to her first. This delay wasn't her fault. She was waiting. He was the one missing. Pouring a drink from the crystal decanter, she settled back on the sofa.

Four drinks later, he walked in.

She would blame it on the alcohol, but her anger grew at the sight of him.

"Are you going to add a day because you couldn't be bothered to tell me you were leaving?" she asked and his eyes locked with hers.

"You want to be careful, Chevonne."

"Why? Are you going to hurt me? You're supposed to." She finished the whiskey in a gulp before standing. "We have an agreement, Draven. An agreement that has a time frame. You vanishing should not be held against me."

"And here I was thinking you could use a day to recover." He moved to her, like a panther and she was his prey. "I see I was mistaken."

"You should have asked me." Dropping back on the couch, she set the glass down. "And now it's too late."

His laugh was cruel. "You think it's too late to scream? Bella, it's never too late for that."

Her world spun as he took her from the couch. There was a sense of motion and she was back in the familiar room.

He set her on her feet. "Don't move." His fingers hooked the collar of her shirt and yanked. The material never stood a chance. His fingers dove into her hair, clenching into a fist and he yanked her head back. She got a glimpse of teeth before he bent over her and his fangs were in her skin and she couldn't move. Couldn't push him away and his arm tightened around her pulling her close, too close, pressing against her bones. Was she going to break? Something else she didn't negotiate for.

"Fight me now," he whispered against her neck and as he bit into her again, she tried.

Her hand pushed against his face as she was swallowed in flames. It did no good, as her palms slipped in her blood that ran from his lips.

She had never had anyone deliberately make their bite hurt but he did. Her very veins seemed to turn to flames inside her, burning her alive. Her fingers gripped his hair, yanking on him as her knees went weak. He held her to him with one arm as he tugged at her skin and she screamed out against him, her mouth muffled against his shoulder, her nails scoring his skin. Another bite, followed by another and she realized he wasn't taking her blood, he was purposefully hurting her. Just like she said she wanted. But while he wasn't drinking from her, the blood was still flowing, the heat of it trickling down her chest, soaking into the ruined shirt.

Slowly, she grew weaker as he held more of her weight. And slowly, something began to change. The pain eased and her hands touched his face. A heat began building in her, lacing through her bloodstream. The next sound she made, a deep sigh, had his fingers curving into her side.

"Draven," she whispered, head falling back and instead of pulling, he was now supporting her. She was pressed tight enough to him that she could feel the shudder as it ran through him. Her hands cupped his face, thumbs running over his skin and she couldn't hold him close enough to her.