I lick my lips, letting my fangs slowly drop.
“Please.” Every cell in my body revolts at the idea of drinking his blood. At begging him for it. Guilt slides like an oily grime inside my soul. If Saint saw me do this, he’d feel so betrayed and he’d lose all sense of control.
Samuel takes a step closer, sliding out of his suit jacket before rolling up one of his sleeves. He bares his wrist to me. “Drink, my sweet.”
I tremble as I take his arm in my hands, my body remembering exactly all the things he’s done to me. It’s a constant battle for fight or flight, my instincts begging me to run the opposite direction before he shackles me in iron and riddles my body with ailments again. Before he cuts me, drinks from me, drains me, and heals me again.
I manage to stand still, to not let my feet carry me anywhere but closer to him. Saint deserves a free life. The people Samuel has wronged deserve to be free of him. The innocent beings he’s murdered deserve justice. The humans and supernaturals should have nothing left to fear of him and the Sons of Honor.
My power rumbles inside me, the thread pulsing for attention. I can feel it stretch awake and reach for Samuel’s lifeforce, like it recognizes who made me a vampire. I hate that it does, but relish the clear notion that it wants totakefrom him, as he’s taken so much from me. The sensation is like an itch, begging me to pull and drain the life from him like I’ve done with so many plants in practice.
I shove it down. I won’t stand a chance against him. I know that with absolute certainty. Not unless he’s weakened.
“It’s all right,” he urges me. “I’m well fed. You won’t harm me.”
I’msonot worried about that. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. We will be united. And our reign will be incredible.”
I strike, sinking my fangs into his flesh, biting harder than I’d ever dare bite Saint.
Samuel hisses sharply, but a rough laugh follows. “I’ll have to teach you how to bite properly, pet.”
I could vomit. His blood tastes awful as it pours into my mouth, like a sick combination of something chemical and rotten. It reflects his soul. I almost gag but clench my eyes shut and drink in fast, panicked swallows.
“That’s enough,” he says calmly.
I don’t stop. Even as my stomach twists as his blood hits it. I keep going. He’s too strong. I needmore.
“Enough, pet.” His voice is a bit sterner. “You’ll gorge yourself and I’m in no mood to discipline you when you inevitably get out of hand.”
I tighten my grip on his arm, drinking more, swallowing more, pulling as much of him as I can into my mouth.
“Enough!” he snaps, jerking his arm out of my grip. My fangs drag against his flesh so fiercely it tears his skin in two long gashes. He examines the wound before glaring at me.
“You will learn,” he says softly, then backhands me. The crack is powerful enough to snap my head to the left. Pain bursts beneath my cheek. “You will learn to yield to me.” He licks the wounds on his arm, sealing them himself.
My stomach rolls as adrenaline surges along my muscles. His blood may taste like shit, but it’s ancient, like all hunter blood. It courses through my very being, feelingother, separate, and wrong. My body floods with strength, my power threatening to burst through my very skin.
He rakes his fingers through his hair, composing himself.
“Now,” he says, reaching his hand toward mine. “We go home.”
I eye his offered hand. The hesitation isn’t all for show. Not as anticipation rises inside me, stealing my breath. I know all too well what that hand is capable of, what he’s capable of. I know that I could take it, and he could use his power against me, filling my veins with acid or stealing my eyesight. He could slow my breathing to the thinnest of wisps until I lose consciousness, only to rouse me with new scars on my body.
He can do terrible, terrible things to me.
But, I’m no longer weak. No longer powerless. And while I’m not fearless, my rage outweighs it. So, I slide my hand into his and let my power surge. “You’re not goinganywhere.”
The confident grin melts off Samuel’s face. His eyes flare wide as he looks down at our joined hands.
“Stop,” he commands. “Stop this now!” He tugs, but I dig my nails into him like they’re claws.
That thread inside me, the one connected to my power, draws his life from him. Just like the plants, I feel it suck like a vacuum. This is so much more potent than the lives of those flowers. So much more complex. The two strings of power arerightthere, one to heal, one to kill. The one to kill is stronger, more like a chain than a thread. I don’t give myself a second to worry about the reasoning behind that, instead doing my best to take and take andtake. Gabriel always said this power is ninety percent intention. And I certainly intend to put an end to Samuel’s terror.
We need to get him down so we can bind him in iron?—
“Stop her!” he yells, wrenching himself free from my grasp.