14. Chapter 14

14

Chapter 14

Rowan

I stand in the sacred grove, soft light filtering through the ancient trees. Their gnarled branches reach toward the star-filled sky like grasping fingers, creating intricate shadows on the forest floor. Soft moss cushions my bare feet as I shift uneasily.

What the hell are you doing here again?

Didn't I learn my lesson the first time? Meeting a vampire in secret is beyond reckless. If my family knew… I shudder at the thought. And yet here I am, drawn back to this place, hoping that—

Hoping what?

The grove pulses with an otherworldly energy that sets my nerves on edge. Or maybe that's just my own anxiety. Pushing the feeling away, I focus on my surroundings. Each detail seems to etch itself into my mind.

A cool breeze whispers through the leaves, carrying the sweet scent of jasmine. The delicate white flowers almost glow, dotting the undergrowth like fallen stars. Their perfume mingles with the aroma of damp soil and fragrant herbs. Crickets chirp a soft melody. A night bird twitters.

Everything feels heightened, more vivid somehow. The rough bark beneath my fingers as I brush by a massive oak. The silky petals of a moonflower brushing my ankle. Even the air itself seems to shimmer. Magic hums through the earth, through the trees, through me. I can almost taste it on my tongue.

I close my eyes, trying to center myself. To remember why this is such a colossally bad idea. But before I can talk myself out of it, I feel it.

Him.

His presence washes over me like a physical force, dark and intoxicating. One moment, I'm alone; the next, he's there – a solid wall of strength pressed against my back. His cool breath stirs the tiny hairs on my nape. A shudder runs through me.

"Oh, my God," I whisper. He doesn't respond, but every nerve ending comes alive, hyper-aware of his proximity. Heat floods my body, washing over my skin and seeping into my pores to the core of me. I hate myself for reacting this way. He's a vampire, for fuck's sake. I should be terrified, disgusted. Instead, a shiver of excitement makes me tingle, followed quickly by a wave of anger – at him, at myself, at this whole impossible situation.

"Dammit, why?" I want to turn and face him, to push him away. But I'm frozen in place, caught between fight or flight. His scent envelopes me – crisp and clean like winter air, with an underlying muskiness that makes my head spin. One of his hands slides up to rest at the base of my throat. Not squeezing, just… there. A reminder of how easily he could end me.

My breath catches as his lips brush the shell of my ear. "Why did you come back?" he murmurs, voice rich as aged whiskey. The words send a wave of gooseflesh over my skin.

I open my mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. Why did I come back? I don't have an answer. At least, not one I'm willing to admit, even to myself.

His other hand splays across my stomach, fingers flexing slightly against the thin fabric of my dress. The touch sears through me like a brand. I should pull away. I need to pull away. But my traitorous body leans back into him instead.

"You're shaking," he observes, a hint of amusement coloring his tone.

Damn him. I grit my teeth, irritation flaring. "I'm not afraid of you," I snap, finally finding my voice. The words come out breathier than I intended.

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest. I can feel the vibrations against my back. "No?" he murmurs. "Then why is your heart racing, little witch?"

Because you're a predator, and I'm your natural prey.

Because this is wrong on every conceivable level.

Because I've never felt anything like this before, and it terrifies me.

His lips ghost along the curve of my neck, and every rational thought leaves me in a rush. I bite back a gasp, fingers curling into my palms.

"Tell me to stop," he says softly, the words a clear challenge.

I should. Every fiber of my being screams that I should tell him to stop, to leave, to never come near me again. It would be the smart thing. The right thing.

But the words don't come. Won't come.

His fangs graze my pulse point, sharp enough to raise goosebumps but not break the skin. A quiet whimper escapes me before I can stifle it. Shame and desire war within me, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

The hand at my throat roves downward and cups my breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. A jolt that feels like lightning shoots through me, and I arch into his touch before I can stop myself. Shame and desire war within me as his other hand trails lower, skimming over my stomach to rest on my hip.

Push him away. Run!

But my body betrays me, melting against him as his fingers trace maddening patterns through the thin fabric covering my skin. The grove around us seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy that seems to shimmer around us. More magic…it's everywhere.

Suddenly, we're no longer in the forest. Ancient stone walls surround us, flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows. I blink in confusion, but Darick's touch grounds me in the moment. His lips trail along my neck as his hand slides lower, teasing the hem of my dress.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs again, breath whispering against my skin.

The words hover on the tip of my tongue, but I can't bring myself to say them. Instead, I find myself savoring the hard muscle pressed against me. And that's not the only hard thing pressed against me. The ridge of his cock is firm against my back. Insistent.

Oh, God. What am I doing?

His mouth trails up the curve of my neck, and fire races through my veins, bringing with it a burning need. But there's an underlying chill, a fear that refuses to be silenced. He's a hunter, dangerous and deadly. I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't want him . But then again, maybe it's fear that's making me respond this way. Fear and lust walking hand in hand, leading me to… What?

The room shifts again, and we're back in the grove. A glow filters through the leaves, bathing us in an ethereal light. Darick's hands roam my body, leaving trails of ice and fire in their wake. He slides his hand beneath the hem of my dress, palm smooth against my bare skin. I gasp as his fingers dip between my thighs, teasing and exploring.

"You're so responsive," he growls, nipping at my earlobe. "So eager."

I want to deny it, but my body betrays me once again. I gasp as his fingers slide over the lace of my panties, teasing, taunting, so close…

Darick's fangs scrape against my neck, his other hand cupping my breast as he pinches my nipple through my dress. Fear and anticipation war within me. Part of me wants him to bite, to take that final step. Another part recoils at the thought.

"What do you want?" he asks, voice rough with need.

I don't know how to answer. I want everything and nothing. I want to give in to this consuming desire, consequences be damned. I want to run far away and never look back.

His hand slips between my legs again, and rational thought becomes impossible. My breath catches, turning to a desperate moan as his fingers find my clit. My back bows, body tensing as a wave of pleasure crashes over me. The sensation is overwhelming, a forbidden pleasure that leaves my head spinning.

I moan low, my head dropping back against his broad shoulder as the tension builds. I'm aware of nothing but the feel of his hands on my body and the building climax that leaves me trembling on the edge.

Oh, God, Rowan! You need to stop!

I shouldn't be doing this. I know I shouldn't. But I can't stop. Not now. Not when I'm chasing a sensation that feels so damned close.

His lips leave a burning trail along my throat as his fingers continue their maddening dance. My body moves against his, twisting and writhing. The sharp points of his fangs graze my skin, and my breath catches.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, as if he's the one under a spell.

I tilt my head to the side, baring my throat in silent invitation. I want him like I've never wanted anything else before. He's working my clit with an expertise that seems like he's always known my body; the rhythm is perfect, the tempo just right. I widen my thighs to give him more access, choking on a gasp as he slips a finger into me and then another.

"Tell me what you need…" His lips move against my sensitive skin, and I shudder yet again.

"I need… I need…" I gasp, the words sticking because I can't say it out loud. What I need is so wrong. Impossible on every level. And still, I need it. "I need you," I choke out.

His fangs pierce my skin, and a rush of pure ecstasy washes over me. Everything narrows to this: the sharp sting of his bite, the sweet slide of his fingers inside me. And then his mouth draws down; I hear him swallow deeply as he thrusts his fingers deep…and I shatter.

Pure pleasure explodes within me. My knees buckle, and the world tilts as I cry out. Stars burst behind my closed eyelids, and I feel like I'm falling…

Falling…

Falling…

I jolt awake.

My breath comes in short gasps, the sheets are tangled around my legs, damp with sweat. My chest heaves as I struggle to regain my bearings. The room is dark, fluttering curtains casting shadows on the walls.

A dream. It was all just a dream!

I clench my eyes shut, willing my heart to slow. The feel of his lips on my skin, the sound of his voice in my ear – it had all felt so real. Too real.

With a trembling hand, I push the hair from my face and stare up at the ceiling. The dream had been so vivid, so intense. I can still feel his hands on me. The phantom sensation of his fangs piercing my skin makes me shiver.

"Stupid," I mutter, tightening my grip on the bedsheets.

But even as I chastise myself, a part of me longs to fall back asleep and continue the dream where it left off. To feel those lips on my skin again. To get lost in the haze of ecstasy where nothing else matters except the two of us.

"He's a vampire , Rowan!" My words seem loud in the silence of the room.

A vampire. I'm fantasizing about a vampire.

God, what is going on with me?

With a heavy sigh, I force myself to roll out of bed. No more dreams. No more fantasies. Not when there's so much at stake. I pad over to the window, gazing up at the night sky. The moon is a sliver of silver, surrounded by a sea of stars. The beauty of it catches me off guard, and for a moment, I forget about everything except the quiet peace of this moment.

"Clear your head, Rowan," I whisper to my reflection in the glass of the window. "You have things to sort out. You can't be letting dreams derail you."

I rub my eyes, pushing a wave of hair from my face and rolling my shoulders. And that's when I see it, faintly in the window.

Two crimson puncture marks in the curve of my neck.