Sacrifice (Bloodline Vampires Book 1) Page 2

  Still.

  The alternative is hiding in my room until the vampire starts wanting a snack and seeks me out again. My body hums at the thought, entirely too onboard with the idea. I’d heard bloodline vampires had a pleasurable bite, had even seen it play out during my father’s services when he moves through the room and bites a few of his chosen followers, but I chalked it up to vampire-on-vampire nonsense. The few times I haven’t been fast enough to avoid one of the turned ones’ fangs, it hurt.

  I glance at the bed, at the reminder I’m here as more than blood donor. All part of my father’s grand plan to bring the vampire race back to supremacy or some bullshit. He never asked me what I want, but then a bastard magic-less dhampir is more tool to be utilized than actual person from where he’s standing. I clench my fists.

  The house will be watched. My father is too smart to leave anything to chance. He figures if he throws me in this place, it’s only a matter of time before Malachi either knocks me up or kills me. Either will suit his purposes. If I do get pregnant, I suspect I won’t live past the live birth. It won’t matter if my child manages to inherit powers or if they are born without magic like their mother. I’ll have served my role.

  Fuck that.

  I’ll find a way out of here, even if I have to carve my way through Malachi and every vampire guarding this house. I need to bide my time and wait for the right opportunity. I doubt I can kill them, but I should be able to find a way to incapacitate them long enough to get the hell out of dodge.

  First thing’s first; I won’t be worth a damn while I’m dizzy and exhausted.

  I glance at the bed again and shake my head. Even without the sheer amount of dust and moth-eaten fabric, there’s no reason to make it easier on the vampire. No reason to tempt myself, either. I won’t be sleeping there.

  I dig a power bar out of my suitcase. I only stashed a handful, which means I do need to figure out food at some point. Starving to death is not on my agenda. A faint sliver of light trickles through the window. I push wearily to my feet and move to look outside. Dawn is here. And I’m on the second floor. I try to open the window, but it’s been painted shut. Great. Not that I expected much else. If this house has been updated since it was built, I haven’t seen any evidence of it.

  Now I’m stalling.

  I grit my teeth and open the bedroom door. Nothing happens. Just like nothing happens when I step out into the hallway. It looks just like the entranceway and the bedroom—old and dusty and threadbare. The carpet beneath my shoes is black or purple or maybe gray. It’s hard to determine in the low light and with age fading it. The walls are equally faded, though I can tell they were originally green. Paintings line them, but I ignore the art for now. Getting caught up in curiosity isn’t an option.

  I find the front stairs easily enough. This place seems laid out logically, which is a relief in a way. Not that I know what I’m supposed to do with that information. For all my dreams of running, there are several harsh realities standing in my way.

  First and most insurmountable is the vampires themselves. They’re faster than me. Stronger than me. And all of them, from Malachi to my father to the guards no doubt lingering at the edges of the property, have a vested interest in me staying trapped exactly where I am.

  But it’s more than that. The only things I know about human society are what I’ve gleaned from the few servants my father keeps and the books my mother somehow managed to smuggle into the colony. It might be enough to whet my appetite for freedom, but I’m not naive enough to think I’m anywhere near prepared to slip into their world.

  Knowing all that won’t stop me looking for an escape, but it’s enough to keep me from doing something truly reckless. Like trying to flee right now, this morning.

  The kitchen is slightly more updated than the rest of the house. The appliances look like things I recognize, and there’s power when I flip on the lights. I study the dusty hanging lights. “So the bloodsucker likes a little modern convenience after all.” Apparently he has some way to order in resources, which is useful knowledge to have.

  “Such charm you have, little dhampir.”

  I startle like a cat, straight up into the air and over a good six feet. The vampire doesn’t move from where he’s standing against the doorframe I just walked through. He looks…amused. And healthier. There’s a flush to his pale skin from my blood.

  The thought sends a pulse through my body, directly to my core. I didn’t hate being his snack as much as I want to, and even as I tell myself I’ll fight him to a standstill before I let him bite me again, part of me wants it, and wants it now.

  Part of me wants more.

  I glare, hating that now my face is flushed. “If you drink any more from me, you’ll kill me and my father will probably make you wait another twenty-five years before he sends a replacement.”

  The vampire—Malachi—pushes off the doorframe and takes a purposefully slow step into the kitchen. He looks like he’s concentrating, as if it’s more natural for him to move too fast for me to really see. “You’re here for a reason. Don’t forget that.”

  “Why not tattoo sacrifice on my forehead in case I forget?”

  His brows inch up. “The last one wasn’t so mouthy.”

  “And look what happened to her.” I don’t know much about the stranger who occupied this position before me. Only that she was chosen to continue Malachi’s bloodline and my father was infuriated by her ability to breed—and stay alive. I’m not even sure how long ago it was. “Thanks, but if I’m going to die in this house, I refuse to cower for the time I have remaining.”

  His sensual lips curve, and I loathe I notice they’re sensual at all. “Are you mad I didn’t fuck you earlier?”

  My jaw drops. “You’re out of your fucking mind!” I throw my hands up when he drifts another step closer. “I didn’t even want you to bite me.”

  “Mmm.” Another step. I retreat and he stalks me through the kitchen. He’s edging me back into the corner of the counter, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. He finally stops a bare six inches from me and braces his hands on the counter on either side of my body. This close, it’s impossible not to notice, no matter how rundown the house, his clothing is new and smells faintly of tobacco and something spicy. He wears a pair of fitted pants and a shirt that would be at home on some historical romance about a pirate. It leaves a slice of his pale chest bare, and I can see a number of raised scars there.

  It looks like someone tried to hack out his heart.

  “I’ve tasted a lot of humans over the years.” He sounds almost like he’s musing to himself. “Even a few dhampirs before you.” His gaze coasts down my body, lingering on my breasts. “None of them tasted as good as you.”

  I blink. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

  “It’s a fact.” He shifts another inch closer. “It intrigues me.”

  “Back off.” My voice comes out hoarse. My skin is tingling and I wish I could say it’s tingling with danger or fear. It’d be a lie. I’m fighting not to press my thighs together from the remembered pleasure.

  Malachi leans down a little until he’s looking directly into my eyes. His eyes are so dark, they seem to draw in the light of the room. There’s a hunger lurking there, and I can’t stop the horrified suspicion he’s seeing that hunger reflected right back at him when he looks into my eyes.

  His lips curve slowly. “You don’t want me to back off.”

  “Wait.”

  “You keep saying wait, little dhampir. Not stop. Shall I slow down farther?” He lifts his right hand with agonizing slowness. I stand perfectly still as he traces his thumb over my collarbone to the thin strap of my dress. Now’s the time to say stop. I don’t know if he’ll respect it, but I should voice it all the same. Should tell him how much I loathe his touch. How much I never want him to lay hands on me again.

  I don’t.

  I hold my breath and lift my chin.

  He eases the strap off my sh
oulder and down, tugging it until the fabric falls to bare my breast. The cool air of the kitchen pebbles my nipple. Or that’s what I tell myself as he stares down at me. Using that same exaggerated slowness, he moves to my other shoulder and gives it the same treatment, until I’m naked from the waist up.

  Malachi’s gaze flicks to my face, and whatever he sees there has him licking his lips. “You know why you’re here.”

  He’s said the same thing to me multiple times last night. As if he’s checking in with me, which is laughable. He’s no different than my father, than all the other vampires I’ve been forced to interact with over the twenty-five years of my life. He wants what he wants, and he’ll mow down anyone who gets in his way. Including me. Especially me.

  My anger blooms again, ready and waiting for the least provocation. I glare. “Just call me your resident blood bank and womb. Suck me, fuck me, do whatever you want. It’s not like I’m a real person to you. I’m just a little dhampir, after all.”

  “You’re my little dhampir now.” He brackets my waist with his hands, his fingers digging in the slightest bit. I have the borderline hysterical thought he could literally rip me limb from limb right now and there’s not a damn thing I could do about it.

  Wouldn’t that ruin my father’s day? I laugh. I can’t help it. It comes out angry and derisive. “I might have been traded like a possession, but I’m not yours. I never will be.”

  “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” He closes the last bit of distance between us and I lose my grip on my rage. It shudders out of me in a sigh that’s almost a whimper. Malachi’s so strong. I don’t know why that surprises me. All vampires are stronger than they look. Hell, so am I, even if I can’t compare to a full-blood. But there’s something about the way he touches me, as if tempering that strength so he doesn’t harm me sends my body into a dizzying spiral into desire.

  I am so fucked.

  3

  “I’m feeling generous.”

  I stare up at Malachi’s handsome face. “What?” I should be fighting right about now, but the only thing I’m fighting in my desire to arch against his hard body.

  He flashes a little fang in a quick grin. “I’ll let you choose where I bite you this time, little dhampir. But only if you speak quickly.”

  “You can’t.” I sound like I’m asking a question, rather than giving a command. I lick my lips, achingly aware of the way he follows the movement. “Unless you really do want to kill me.”

  “I’m not hungry for your blood.” He leans down and his lips brush against the shell of my ear. “I want to feel you come again.”

  I open my mouth, but not a sound emerges. I expected a lot of things when my father laid out my fate in that cold way of his. Pain. Torment. Maybe even death. I didn’t expect this. I’m not even sure what this is. “What?”

  “I can bite you here.” He gives my neck a slow kiss, dragging his mouth over the spot where he bit me last night. Malachi keeps moving down, stopping at the top of my chest. “Or here.” His gaze flicks to my face and he descends to flick his tongue out and stroke my nipple. “Or here.”

  “Do it.” I don’t even sound like myself. I sure as hell don’t feel like myself. It takes everything I have not to reach for him as he holds my gaze and sinks his fangs into the soft skin of my left breast just above my nipple.

  Pleasure bows my back and I cry out. Gods, it shouldn’t be so good. And then his mouth closes around my nipple and it gets even better. He cups my other breast and loops his free arm around my waist, pulling me tighter against him. He strokes me with his tongue and I’m lost.

  I barely register letting go of the counter. One second I’m clinging to it for dear life and the next my fingers are tangled in his long dark hair, holding him to me. My knees buckle, and he eases us to the floor with me straddling him. Careful. He’s so fucking careful. He’s not really taking blood right now, not more than a few drops. His hold on me is tight, but nowhere near tight enough to hurt me.

  Like before, each pull of his mouth sends a bolt of lust directly to my clit. I whimper and arch closer. “Please.” I’m so empty. I need to come. I need to fuck, hard and quick. I simply need.

  He shifts his grip around my waist, urging me down until I’m pressed against his cock. He’s hard again, and I have the dazed thought that he’s massive, but I can barely cling to it. Not when he rocks me against him, sliding my pussy along his length through his pants. It’s not enough, but it feels too good to stop.

  Over and over again, building my pleasure stroke my stroke, pull by pull of his mouth.

  He releases my breast and I cry out in protest, but Malachi moves to my right one. This bite is a little rougher, and it propels me into a brutal orgasm. I cry out and grind down on him, coming so hard he has to tighten his hold to keep me from collapsing. He licks my nipple one last time and lifts his head.

  I look down and find twin bite marks marring my breasts. Thin trickles of blood run from each puncture wound, and the sight threatens to ramp up my desire again. Especially when he leans down and drags his tongue over my skin, cleaning me.

  Now’s the time to say something. To remind him again I’m not here because I chose to be. I don’t actually want this, humping him in the kitchen notwithstanding.

  Malachi looks up at me and gives that slow smile. “Don’t worry, little dhampir. I will fuck you, and soon. This was simply a little taste of what it will be like.”

  There’s no point in protesting. He will fuck me. It was inevitable from the moment I walked through the door, but it feels almost like fate in this moment. A fate I’m not quite sure I want to fight. If it’s this good with a bite and most of our clothes on, will it be better when we’re both naked and I’m entirely at his disposal.

  Will I survive it?

  Vampires can go into a frenzy when they fuck. It doesn’t happen often as long as everyone’s getting regular feedings, but Malachi has been alone in this house for at least as long as I’ve been alive. I don’t know why he doesn’t hunt, but the last sacrifice my father sent was before I was born. No matter how good his control right now, it might not hold.

  He might kill me.

  “Let me go,” I say quietly.

  He slowly releases me and leans back to prop his hands on the floor. He’s studying me like I’m a puppy who’s done something unexpected. “You enjoyed what just happened.”

  Yes, I did. A lot. I also want it to happen again as soon as possible. I have too much self-preservation to admit as much, though. “Your bite is orgasmic. Of course my body liked it.”

  “Ah.”

  I need to get up, especially when I can feel his cock pulsing against me, but my legs aren’t cooperating. Or that’s what I tell myself as I glare at him. “And stop ambushing me. I get you need blood, and that’s what I’m here for, but unless you want this sacrifice to be short-lived—literally—you need to knock that shit off.”

  His brows inch up, and he’s back to looking like he’s half a second away from laughing at me. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

  “I’ll need food, too.” I brace my hands on his shoulder to push to my feet, but somehow my wires get crossed and I rock my hips against him. Just a little. I bite my bottom lip. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Nothing.” He very slowly, very gently, replaces his hands on my hips. “Nothing at all.”

  “I don’t believe you.” My desire is spiking again, my body hot and pliable. I have to get out of here, and I have to do it now. Otherwise I’m in danger of doing something unforgivable, like reaching between us to free his cock and taking him deep inside me. I want it. I want it more than I want my next breath.

  I shove to my feet.

  Or at least, I try.

  My bad knee buckles halfway up, and Malachi catches me before I make harsh contact with the floor, his hands beneath my knees. I barely have a chance to register what happened when he moves us, lifting me up and setting me on the counter. He pushes my dress to bare my knee
and frowns at it. “This is recent.”

  No point in denying it. The truth is written right there on my skin in ugly purple scars. “Yes.”

  “I was under the impression dhampirs heal quickly.”

  “Not as quickly as vampires.”

  “That is not an answer.”

  He’s like a dog with a bone. I don’t understand where he’s headed with this line of questioning. “Yes, I heal quickly.”

  “And yet you have an injury like this.” His face takes on a forbidding look. “Explain.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. I shove at his shoulders, but I might as well try to shove a mountain. Frustration bubbles up inside me, hot and cloying. “As I’m sure you’ve probably figured out, I didn’t exactly volunteer for this gig. I tried to run. My father made sure I wouldn’t be able to again.”

  He goes still in that predatory way that makes every instinct I have scream at me to flee, which might be laughable under other circumstances. Flee. Sure. That’ll work out great.

  Malachi’s thumb traces the most prominent bit of the scar, the spot where my father beat my knee again and again, until the bones were little more than pebbles. “There is no quick fix for this type of injury.”

  “Thanks for that, Doctor Malachi, but I’m already aware. Even with my accelerated healing, I’ll never walk right again.” It’s something I can’t think too closely about or it might be the thing that breaks me. My entire life has been spent running, even if it was contained within the colony walls. I’ve escaped beatings and worse because of my ability to flee. No longer.

  He presses a hand to the center of my chest. “Stay.”

  “I am not your dog to command.”

  “Stay,” he repeats.

  I don’t know why he bothers to tell me what to do. He moves so quickly, I barely have a chance to tense before he’s back between my thighs again, this time holding a knife. I freeze. “A vampire with a knife. How novel.” Which reminds me. I narrow my eyes, trying to ignore the blade glinting between us. “Return my knife.”