Sweet Ruin(63)

“How can that be? Female vampires are so rare.”

“I don’t know a lot”—anything—“about her. But she’s definitely a vampire.”

Dalli’s excitement faded. “Rune, I’m so sorry. No wonder you’re miserable.” She put her hand over his. “Maybe your Josephine could drink bagged blood or something like that. Not feeding from her partner would be a sacrifice, but I’m sure she’d want to try for you.”

Over the rim of his goblet, he said, “She drinks my black blood. Couldn’t crave it more.” His tone was smug.

“What? How is that possible?”

“She says it’s because she’s ‘wicked strong and all.’ ”

Dalli’s eyes grew merry. “I like her already. Is she transitioned?”

“She was injured recently. I slathered her with runes, but I suspect she would’ve regenerated on her own.” He still couldn’t believe he’d remembered those rune combinations after so long. But then, I’d needed them enough in that brothel.

“Are there no physical boundaries between you two? Can you be with her fully?”

“So far, so good.” Though he hadn’t been inside her yet. If she was his mate . . .

“This must mean she’s yours. You’ve found her, Rune! Do you understand how blessed this makes you?”

That word had never been used to describe a being like Rune.

Dalli studied his face. “Are you . . . engaged when you’re with her?”

“Engaged? When I come with her, I yell so hard my throat hurts. I say things before I think them. Speak in bloody Demonish!” His head fell back against the settee, and he stared at the leafy ceiling. “I lose control totally. The first time I got a taste of her sex, my eyes rolled back in my head.” Those plump lips . . . that maddening clit ring . . .

Lost in memory, he said, “She gets so wet. When she comes on my tongue, it’s a luscious reward for me. And gods almighty, when she pierces my skin with her sharp little fangs, my heart thunders, and my balls tighten and ache as never before. My cock feels like it’s going to explode. . . .”

Dalli cleared her throat.

He blinked, amazed that he’d been stroking himself. She grinned. He scowled and yanked his hand away. “This is what I’m talking about—no control!”

“You can’t have it both ways, Rune. You can’t fear losing control and becoming deadened.”

Dalli was right.

“I think you’re falling for her.”

“As in love? My kind doesn’t love; we’re not capable of it. Much less me, with my past.”

He’d lived with the threat of that sword over his neck for ages before a fair master had come along, freeing him and offering a percentage. Numb to violation and blind to an alternative, Rune had said, “Why not?” He’d considered himself nothing more than a coin whore.

His thoughts had never strayed toward the future. His feelings had been stunted, as cold as ash.

Were they still? Josephine had gotten him excited and frantic and agitated. Frenzy had overcome control. Was that sparking cinder inside him catching flame?

With her, he’d been flung into some place he’d never been before.

I want to return there.

Dalli said, “In the past you had to distance yourself to survive. But no longer.”

To survive his patrons—and Magh. When she’d learned he was volunteering to be used, she’d been enraged. Evil to the core, she’d recaptured him, imprisoning him in her dungeon. She’d desired him and hated herself for it. Then the real torture had begun—

“Stop right now,” Dalli said, reclaiming his attention. “Stop reliving days gone by. You can begin again with Josephine. Someone so young will help you see the worlds anew.”

“I don’t want to begin again.” Magh had reshaped him so many times that the mold should have broken. He’d gone from slave laborer, to killer, to involuntary whore, to voluntary whore, to whipping boy. All because of a vicious woman. He was done changing.

Yet hadn’t he considered himself altered after his first orgasm with Josephine in his bed? “All of this is moot anyway.” The cinder inside him had caught flame for the wrong female. “She wants . . . someone else.” Rune downed his goblet, then stood to pace again. “Some asshole who wears cowboy boots.” Was Josephine’s male searching for her? Wondering why she hadn’t returned to his bed for yet another moonset?

“What manner of species is he?”

“I don’t know.” Rune had been focused on his target, had only paid passing attention to Nïx’s companion, Thaddeus. Unable to recall the male’s scent, Rune pictured his appearance. “He’s big. Tall with broad shoulders.” The prick’s face was much handsomer than Rune’s own. Which meant it was boring. He grated, “Attractive, I suppose.”