Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
This is the only thing that matters, really. I can blame Paul all I want, I can justify and find all kinds of completely true reasons that explain my behavior.
But in the end, this is my choice.
“Are you ready?” I open my eyes and find Paul’s face hovering over mine. Then I am drawn to movement at the end of the bed. Ryet and another man—Josep—are clinging to each other in a tight embrace. Ryet’s mouth on Josep’s neck. Josep’s mouth on Ryet’s neck. Drinking each other at the same time. But it’s more than that. They are naked, and hard, and grinding into each other. Moaning, blood dripping out of their mouths. Snarling and growling like animals. Josep has Ryet’s cock in his hand, fisting it tight. And Ryet’s hand is pumping up and down Josep’s shaft.
It’s unrestrained lust.
It’s evil desires.
And I can’t. Stop. Watching.
Josep pulls back from Ryet’s neck, blood dripping down his face. He is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He is Ryet times a hundred. He is Paul times a thousand. And it takes every bit of self-control I have not to beckon him into my bed with a finger.
Paul wipes my sweaty hair away from my face. He has stopped drinking me and the craving I have for blood—all the blood—suddenly takes over.
Josep and I lock eyes. His are black. Nothing but pits. And this should terrify me, but it doesn’t. It makes me crave him more. He sticks his tongue out, wiggling it at me. “Do you want me to eat your pussy, Syrsee?” He fists Ryet’s hair, yanking him off his neck. Ryet is growling and hissing, trying to latch back on. “We have a little bit of time, if that’s how you want to spend it.”
I’m lost. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t really understand what he’s talking about. Time?
But I don’t care, either. I say, “Yes. Come here.” And then he’s dragging Ryet to the bed with him. Crawling up between my legs. Paul spreads them open for Josep, Ryet is back to drinking, making animal noises as he sucks the blood from Josep.
I’m focused on Josep too. Because he’s smiling like an evil demon as he flicks his tongue back and forth, teasing me for a few seconds. Making me agonize with the anticipation.
And then, when the tip of his tongue glides over my pussy, Paul’s neck is pressing against my lips. I bite into the skin and Paul starts to moan as the blood rushes out of the ragged wound I just made.
It’s hot, and sweet, and I can’t get enough. I swallow it down in gulps as Josep slides his mouth over to the inside of my leg. I know it’s coming and when his teeth sink into the tender skin of my inner thigh, I am so overwhelmed with hunger, I nearly attack Paul. My teeth snapping at his shoulder, his neck, any part of his body that gets close enough.
Then his mouth is covering mine. Biting me as I bite him, our bloody lips connected now.
Josep slides out from between my legs, lying on the opposite side of me.
It’s like it was that night Paul was draining me. Him on one side, Ryet on the other.
But this time I’m between Paul and Josep and that’s when I realize that they are opening my legs and Ryet is scooting up between them.
I open my eyes to watch him.
And then, finally, I scream.
Because this isn’t Ryet.
This is the Darkness.
But something happens here. I’m screaming, but I’m not. It’s in my head, or some place else, or maybe not even happening at all. I can’t tell. Because I’m not in the bed anymore. I’m in a library. Not the Guild library filled with untouchable tomes, but something bright and public.
Ryet is standing next to me. Real Ryet. I know this because he’s grinning at me and his eyes are twinkling and filled with good-natured mischief. This smile and these eyes are familiar in a long-lost way because this is the man, Ryet. Not the monster.
For some reason I’m deliriously happy. The kind of happy that comes after a long day of nothing but good things. So many good moments, you don’t even have time to count them all up and sort them all out.
We’re reaching for the same book on the shelf in front of us, our fingertips touching as we smile at the good fortune of being in the right place at the right time.
We are strangers. I know this, even though it doesn’t make sense.
Neither of us lets go of the book. Neither of us surrenders to the other.
And then something washes over me. Like a memory of forgetting. And I’m not sure where I am, or why I’m here, or who this man is—I just know I must meet him. I have to say something to get his attention and lying about my claim on the book feels like the perfect opening.