Unleash (Vampire Erotic Theatre Romance Series Book 6) Page 7

  She swallowed and closed her eyes, her frown hardening. She released her wrist and pressed her bloodied hand to her head, smudging red across it.

  “You are unwell?” he said, his guilt returning with a vengeance.

  “I feel dizzy… and a little weak.” Her eyes opened and fixed on him, the brightness in them gone.

  Snow frowned. How much had he taken from her? She was slender and delicate. He had drunk greedily. He had taken too much. If she had been a normal weak human, he probably would have killed her. The black wings curling around her shoulders were a constant reminder that she was anything but weak. An angel.

  And she had given him blood.

  That couldn’t be a good thing for her to have done.

  “Come to me. Let me seal the wound.” He jerked his chin, trying to coax her into doing as he asked.

  She grasped the bedpost and slowly pulled herself up off the floor, and then stumbled forwards and collapsed onto the mattress beside him, her breathing rapid and shallow. She shook as she bravely offered her right wrist to him.

  Snow gently licked it, cleaning away the blood. His tongue on her flesh felt so good and he liked the way she stared at him, watching him intently.

  Her skin was hot, her taste delectable.

  He ached to feel her body against his, soft against hard, warm against cool. He hadn’t touched a female in centuries, hadn’t wanted to either, but he longed to lay his hands on her and learn her curves, her fragrance, and her sweetest spots.

  It was wrong of him to desire her, an angel, one pure and untainted while he was wretched, but she brought out the devil in him. She made him want to taint her and ruin her.

  Possess her.

  He shifted his focus back to her wrist, taking care to ensure that the bleeding had stopped before he leaned his head back on the black pillows.

  His gentleness seemed to please her and she offered him a small smile as she drew her arm back to her.

  “I had feared you would begin drinking again,” she whispered and ran her thumb over the marks on her wrist, her gaze on them now. “They tell our kind that vampires are foul.”

  Her gaze flickered over his face to settle on his hair and she reached out and lifted one of the long strands, drawing it out of his eyes.

  “Snow,” she murmured and his vivid scarlet eyes shifted to meet hers and narrowed. “Your hair is like snow. It is pure and beautiful.”

  Snow turned his face away. “You of all people should know how impure I am.”

  She sighed and even that sounded melodic and soothing to him. Her hand left his hair and she shifted on the bed. When he realised what she intended, he snapped his head around to face her, catching her reaching for the cuff that secured his right wrist.

  “Don’t!” he barked and she ignored him.

  “You are safe now, satisfied. You will not hurt me.” She sounded so positive that he almost smiled and couldn’t resist pointing out something that would contradict her belief and most likely have her blushing again.

  “I am not so sure,” he said and she paused to look at him. “My bloodlust is under control, but you are still not safe from me. I am not sure you ever will be.”

  She looked confused at first and then her cheeks darkened to the deepest shade of red so far and her eyes widened, and he knew she had understood him and was now aware of the danger she was in. His bloodlust was sated, but he still felt an undeniable and consuming lust for her.

  Snow smiled at the way her eyes edged downwards, towards his hips, as though she was unaware of what she was doing before it was too late and her gaze settled on his groin. Her cheeks darkened another shade. She swallowed and her heart fluttered wildly. Why?

  Were her thoughts running along the same line as his were? He wanted to feel her hands on his flesh, touching and stroking him, pleasuring him and bringing him to climax. Did she desire the feel of his hands on her, using his strength and dominating her as they made love?

  The angel hid her nerves well but she left the bed and he was sure that she would keep her distance now, afraid that he might pounce on her and ruin her.

  She surprised him by locating the key to his restraints on the dressing table and coming back to him. She unlocked his ankles first, frowning and muttering soothing things about his wounds, things that left him feeling she truly did care about his wellbeing.

  She tackled his collar next and she sighed, reached down and grazed her fingers over his throat as the cold metal fell away. Her eyebrows furrowed and her touch stole his pain away, leaving warmth behind and an incredible soothing sensation.

  Could she heal with a touch?

  She had somehow healed his wrists when she had been singing to him while he was lost in bloodlust before. It had to have been her. His natural healing ability couldn’t fix a wound that quickly.

  Her actions were gentle, careful as she unlocked the cuff around his right wrist and then moved around the foot of the bed to his left. She unlocked the final cuff and he brought his hands down and flexed his fingers. He wiped the sleeve of his robe across his face to clear the blood from it.

  Someone knocked on his door and she gasped, her wide eyes shooting to it.

  “Are you all right?” A male voice sounded through the thick wood.

  “I am fine, and I am busy,” Snow replied gruffly.

  Antoine remained silent for a few seconds during which time the angel stood frozen beside the bed, as though that action could make her disappear from his brother’s senses.

  “You are not alone in the room. Who else is there?” Antoine said, a darker edge to his tone now.

  Snow knew his brother. If he didn’t like Snow’s answer and if he felt Snow was in danger, he would burst into the room and attempt to take the angel down. He also respected Snow’s strength and desire for privacy most of the time. Snow hoped that was the case today.

  “It is not your concern. I am safe. I am fine. I will explain later.”

  Silence stretched into infinity before Antoine spoke again. “I will come back later. Be careful.”

  Snow sensed his brother cross the hall to his apartment and looked back at the angel. She was scowling at the door.

  “Does your brother feel I am going to hurt you?” The sharp edge to her tone backed up the hint of her emotions that he could detect, confirming that Antoine had offended her. “Or does he fear that you will hurt me?”

  Snow licked the cuts across his wrists, stemming the flow of blood and sealing the thin lines while he debated the answer to her questions. What was the best answer? She probably wouldn’t like either and both were true.

  He was tired of lying to people though, and she struck him as the sort of female who preferred honesty to sugar-coated half-truths.

  “Both.” He drew his black robe closed and tied the belt, and then shuffled off the bed. His muscles ached as he stood and he stretched, trying to crack bones back into place and ease the pain. He still felt marvellous. Would any fresh blood from the vein make him feel this way or was it because she was an angel?

  He looked over his shoulder at her where she stood on the other side of the bed. Her cheeks were still too pale, her lips ashen. She needed to rest in order to recover her strength. If he bid her to sleep a while, she would probably react in a negative way, possibly even throwing his concern in his face. She was a strong female, liable to take his desire to see her rekindle her strength as an attempt to belittle her.

  “Sit a while.” He casually gestured to the bed and distanced himself by crossing the room, removing himself from the outcomes she was no doubt running through her mind after he had revealed he desired her. It worked.

  The angel clambered onto his bed and settled herself with her back against his black pillows, taking a lot of care to place her black wings and lie in such a way that they weren’t ruffled.

  His whole bed would smell like her now.

  Even if he lost himself to his bloodlust and had to be chained to his bed for a week, he would refuse to replace
the sheets and wash her scent away. He liked the way she smelled—soft and female, delicate.

  Snow opened his ebony wardrobe and scanned the contents, trying to decide what to wear tonight. He hadn’t slept as he had promised he would, but he no longer felt the need. He was wide awake, buzzing from her blood in his system, and he wanted to talk to Antoine to ease his brother’s mind.

  The angel shuffled but he paid her no heed and selected one of the black shirts she had pressed against her delicious body. He lifted it to his nose and secretly inhaled her sweet fragrance. Warmth spread through him. He glanced across at her and frowned.

  She had moved to lie on her side with her head on the pillows, the waves of her black hair spilling across them and blending into the midnight material, and had tucked her legs up against her stomach. Her wings were gone too. Had she made them disappear? She probably needed to in order to sleep comfortably.

  And she was asleep.

  Snow walked silently back to the bed and stood on the left side of the room, looking down at her. Her face was soft with slumber, more innocent than it had ever appeared, and it stirred a foreign feeling in the place behind his sternum that normally felt empty.

  He felt dangerously protective of her and possessive.

  She had her hands held close to her face and her soft lips were parted, her breath skating over her fingers. Her little feet were bare and dirty, poking out of the end of her dress. The layers of white fabric remained tight against her torso and flowed over her hips, a stark contrast against the black of his covers.

  Light against darkness.

  The sheer strips had parted here and there to reveal patches of smooth pale skin on her calves and thighs.

  He wanted to lean over her to breathe in her scent and assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. There was an angel slumbering in his bed as though it was the most natural thing in the world for a pure being to nestle into sheets belonging to a beast who was as likely to destroy her as he was protect her.

  His pale blue eyes fell to her wrist and the twin ragged marks on her arm. Her blood was delicious. He had never tasted such ambrosia. It had even made his blood taste good. Why?

  Blood had been like ashes in his mouth for over a century now and these past few decades his fits had worsened. His thirst had become relentless and there were too many times when he couldn’t remember things he had done.

  One sip of her blood had left him feeling satisfied and he was sure he wouldn’t need to feed tomorrow.

  Snow tore himself away from her side before he succumbed to his desires and did something he might regret, and loped across the room to his wardrobe. He dressed in a pair of black jeans and the black shirt, tucking it into his jeans before fastening them, and then jammed his feet into his army boots. He went into the bathroom and washed the blood off his neck, wrists, and any remnants from his face.

  He strayed back to the female and stared down at her. He didn’t want to leave her in his room, felt a dark need to stay with her and protect her, but he needed to speak with Antoine and join in the celebrations. They had waited for him to wake before holding them after all.

  He forced himself to turn away from her and walked out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him. He wasn’t sure that a simple locked door could contain an angel. In fact, he was certain it couldn’t. He wasn’t locking the door to keep her in. He was locking it to keep others out.

  He strode down the hall, swiftly took the flights of steps that led down to the floor below and then continued down to the ground level. The large double-height black room was empty. His gaze flicked to the door of Antoine’s office across the room from the staircase. His brother wouldn’t be there. Already he had picked up the sound of merriment coming from a room at the back of the theatre.

  Snow turned right and strolled along the black-walled corridor that led backstage. One of the double doors at the end of the hall were open, allowing light to spill out together with the chatter of the performers and owners of Vampirerotique, and the gurgling wail of babies.

  He slowed his approach and spotted Sera leading Antoine across the cream brightly lit room, her long deep red evening dress swaying around her legs with each step, and a smartly dressed Callum coming forward with the boy, Alistair, in his arms.

  Crimson-soaked flagstones and his brother covered in blood flashed across Snow’s eyes and he reached out and slammed his left hand against the black wall of the corridor for support as he flinched away from the dark painful memory.

  “Snow?” Antoine’s voice was loud and close, and he managed to get his eyes open and look at his brother. Antoine took his other arm, supporting him as Snow’s knees threatened to give out, a look of concern in his pale eyes.

  Snow could never understand how his brother could still look at him with love in his eyes after everything he had done.

  “Are you feeling unwell?” Antoine said and Snow shook his head. It was passing, the pain fading. “Are you all right? You look different. Who was in your room?”

  Snow leaned his back against the wall, trying to process all the questions while the last tremors of pain wracked him. He did feel different. Perhaps his brother could see the effect the angel’s blood had on him.

  “What do you know about angels?” Snow whispered and his brother frowned, his dark eyebrows knitting tightly together. Snow knew he sounded crazy. Before tonight, he hadn’t believed angels existed either, even though he had seen creatures who claimed to be the fallen variety of that species.

  “Why?” Antoine said cautiously and Snow realised that if he talked about angels without offering Antoine visible proof of one, his brother would think he truly had gone insane.

  He took Antoine’s arm, clutching it tightly through the fine black material of his suit jacket, and ignored his questions as he led him up the stairs and to his apartment door. He released his brother, slid the key into the lock, twisted it and opened the door. He stepped inside and held the door for Antoine.

  Antoine looked as though he was about to ask another infernal question and then his eyes fell on the bed and widened.

  His brother silently entered the room, his movements slow and wary, his eyes fixed on the female. Snow didn’t like the way he stared at her. His possessive streak came back full force and he considered that it might have been unwise to bring Antoine up and show him the female. He didn’t want anyone seeing his woman.

  Snow cocked a single eyebrow. His woman?

  Disappointment tinged Antoine’s expression when he glanced over his shoulder at Snow. “She has no wings. Are you sure she is an angel?”

  Snow nodded. “I have seen her wings… and this is not the first time she has visited me. She came to me before when I was lost to my bloodlust.”

  Antoine’s look darkened. “Tell me you have not slept with her.”

  Snow’s gut tightened at the thought and it rekindled his hunger, igniting the urge to possess the woman sleeping so innocently on his bed, vulnerable and at his mercy.

  He managed to shake his head. “No… but she did give me blood.”

  Antoine’s head whipped around and he pinned him with an incredulous stare. “You are thirsting again?”

  Snow grimaced and mentally cursed himself. He hadn’t expected his brother to figure that one out and he wasn’t sure what to say in response.

  “You lied to me?” Antoine’s look turned to one of worry and then hurt.

  Snow tried to shut him out by staring at the angel. The things he had done to his brother in the distant past made him feel bad enough, he didn’t need to add new ones to the growing list of reasons he had to feel as though all he ever did was hurt Antoine.

  He had never wanted to hurt his brother. He had wanted to spare Antoine the pain of watching him spiral down into bloodlust again after everything Antoine had done to bring him back from the brink so many times before.

  “Her blood revitalised me.” Snow kept his gaze locked on the angel.

  He could sense Antoine’s d
isquiet and irritation, and knew it was because he had again ignored a question.

  “At what cost to her?” Antoine said and a chill crept down Snow’s spine. He turned slowly to face his brother, a frown working its way onto his brow.

  “What?”

  Antoine nodded towards her. “If she is an angel, then surely giving life to you via her blood is a sin? Vampires are close to demons. I am sure angels would classify us amongst that breed.”

  “I hurt her when I bit her.” Snow looked back at her, his gut twisting at the memory of hearing her cry out and seeing the tears on her cheeks after he had released her.

  “No doubt allowing you to take from her vein pained her greatly and will forever be a black mark against her, and we both know forever is a long time to bear a sin.”

  He didn’t need the reminder. It was constantly there at the back of his mind, awaiting him in his nightmares. He knew the danger of forever.

  But he was troubled by what his brother had said. Not just because he had hurt her, but because he needed to taste her again. Now that she had committed an unforgivable act, would it hurt her if he drank from her vein again?

  Snow shook that thought away, the remaining fragment of good in his wretched soul telling him not to consider it. He didn’t want to damn her.

  He stepped backwards towards the door and Antoine took the hint and turned away from her, walked to the door and headed out into the hall. Snow lingered, his eyes on the female. She needed to rest and recover her strength.

  When she was well again, he would ask her why she had come to him and why she had allowed him to violate her by biting her, and he would demand an answer this time.

  He left the room and locked the door behind him, and tried to get his mind off her as he followed Antoine back down to the party.

  It was impossible.

  Everything in him screamed to return to her and watch over her, protecting her as she slumbered.

  His senses had been right about her.

  She was dangerous.

  But she didn’t pose a threat to him physically.

  She posed it emotionally.

  He had to keep his distance from her.