18. SURRENDER

18

SURRENDER

H e messed up.

Messed up on a stomach-churning, soul-crushing level.

Aiden gripped the bathroom sink as he stared at his face. Stared at the crimson staining his lips.

Blood.

Charlotte's blood.

It tasted like ambrosia on his tongue, tempting him to go back for more.

His tongue moved over his lower lip, drawing in the last remnants of the evidence of their kiss. He shuddered.

With limited feedings, he didn't feel as in control as before. Blood from a live source hit in a way much different from a blood bag.

He'd never taken straight from the source.

His grip tightened .

I didn't bite her.

The surety of that statement rang through him. Why did she have blood in her mouth?

Concern twisted his gut tighter, and he looked at the door.

He couldn't hear her on the other side, but she was there. He left her in confusion. Left her aroused.

He saw it in her dilated pupils and in her flushed cheeks and chest. Gorgeous and tempting, the pink staining the tops of her pale breasts peeking out of the top of her dress beckoned him. The blood that stirred beneath the surface called to him like a siren's song.

His gaze flicked to himself in the mirror, resisting the temptation to leave the bathroom and go to her. To take care of the state he left her in.

Messy hair greeted him, a product of her soft hands raking through it. He could still feel the tugging sensation at the roots.

It had to be the blood.

That was the only explanation for how he lost control of himself.

You hadn't tasted her blood when you chose to kiss her. Told her she was a temptation.

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

He'd done so good. Resisted her in moments of torture. Lying in bed with her body near his. When she touched his bare skin.

All it took was her insecurity to draw out his natural need to protect and reassure, paired with the way she looked at him fresh out of the shower—like a dessert begging to be tasted—and he couldn't control himself.

He always held onto his control. Never once had he felt out of control.

Charlotte tested his control.

It wasn't so bad until they started sleeping in the same bed, and his feeding schedule altered .

Maybe it wasn't her that tested his control. His need for more blood made him less in control; and his natural attraction for her, that grew the more they got to know one another, heightened with that need.

He really shouldn't touch her the way he had. Tasting her blood in the kiss would explain why it went so far.

It wouldn't happen again.

For her sake, it wouldn't happen again.

Pushing open the bathroom door after composing himself, he found Charlotte standing in the middle of the kitchen, as pale as the white card she held in her hand.

His hackles rose at once.

Striding toward her, he took the card from her trembling fingers. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest while he lifted the card to read over her head.

I know what you saw.

And nothing is going to save you from the truth. Not even your live-in boyfriend. He can't keep you from me.

You can't run anymore, Cherry.

Play house while you can.

I'm coming for you soon.

Aiden's chest vibrated with the inhuman growl he was suppressing. He didn't need her to hear it. He hoped she mistook the vibration as a shudder of anger, because he felt a lot of that emotion.

With his senses on alert from the taste of her blood, his body primed for more than it received, and now a direct threat to the girl in his arms, he didn't know where to steer the overwhelming feelings bubbling inside.

"I won't let him touch you," he whispered, his lips brushing her curls. He knew she couldn't feel it—he didn't want her to—but it made him feel better.

She tilted her head to look up at him. "Should we call the police?"

In any other case he would say yes, but nothing would come of it. The lieutenant had told them both that unless any solid leads presented themselves, all they could do was document it.

"No. But I'll take it down to the station while you're in classes tomorrow so they can file it with the rest of the evidence."

Her arms looped around his waist, and her small hands bunched in the back of his shirt. The gentle embrace calmed him.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For dealing with it. You don't have to, but you're doing it, anyway." She looked down. "It means a lot."

His eyes moved to the note card again. "What did you see?"

"Hmm?" She looked up at his face.

"It says, ‘I know what you saw.' What did you see?"

Charlotte pulled away from his hold, and he let her. "It's nothing," she said, walking across the room to pick up her sandals.

He held up the card. "It has to mean something if it's on this. This guy wouldn't just put anything on here. It has to mean something to you."

Her steps quickened as she crossed the living room, passing him in the kitchen, before disappearing into the bedroom.

He followed her. "What aren't you telling me?"

Opening the closet, she set her sandals alongside the row of shoes on the floor. "You'll think I'm crazy. "

He gave her a look he hoped conveyed how unimpressed he felt that she'd think he could ever see her that way.

"I'm serious, Aiden. I don't know why he's mentioning it. I'm not even sure it was real. I'm still convinced I had heatstroke. That kinda thing just doesn't happen." Her laugh was flighty and nervous, making him anxious. She wasn't acting like herself.

"So let me be the judge of whether it sounds ‘crazy' or not."

She slumped down on the edge of the bed, clasping her hands together between her knees, drawing his attention to the smooth, pale skin of her thighs where her dress rode higher with the way she sat down so abruptly.

"So you know the stories about vampires? Dracula? Twilight? The whole Transylvania thing?"

"Uh huh," he said, dragging the word out.

He knew all about the myths in the media. Some of the stories were eerily similar to what happened when Vasirian experienced sanguis manie . Enough to where his friend Kai speculated that someone saw it, and that's where the legends of vampires came from.

"I thought I saw one."

His brows pulled together. "What?"

She looked up at him. "A vampire. I thought someone was following me, so I tried to cut across an alley to get to the bus stop faster. I saw a couple together and coulda swore they were making out, but then I saw the guy's face. He was in pain." She rolled her lips in and shook her head before making eye contact again.

His gut tightened, a sense of foreboding setting in.

"He told me to run despite the pain he was in. Even though the other man was hurting him." She lowered her gaze to the floor. "When I saw those glowing blue eyes and fangs… All the blood… I did just that. I ran and left that man there to die." She sniffed. "I'm terr ible. I could have—"

"What? What could you do in a dark alley?" He crouched in front of her. "If someone is attacking another person, you don't try to be a hero. Not when that person is larger than you."

He assumed the Vasirian was bigger than her. It didn't matter. If she had witnessed a Vasirian attacking a human, she would have been in danger. Only rogues attacked humans. It was against their laws to harm humans. He had no doubts what she saw was a Vasirian. The glowing eyes and fangs were enough to convince him. He knew of no other being like his kind.

"I know, but he seemed so worried about me and not himself."

He rose to sit beside her on the bed, and she turned her body toward his as soon as he reached for her. He stretched his left leg out, leaning on the headboard with his right leg still on the floor to give her space between his thighs to settle close to him. She drew her legs up, curling them beneath her as she nestled against his chest.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" she whispered.

He stroked her shoulder and arm while resting his other hand on the dip of her waist. "Not even a little."

He wouldn't tell her what she saw wasn't real. He wouldn't gaslight her like that, but he wouldn't confirm it either. Even coming up with a plausible excuse didn't sit right with him. He didn't want to lie to her. She didn't seem inclined to ask what he believed, and he hoped it remained that way.

It unsettled him that not only had she witnessed a rogue attack, but that her stalker knew about it. Maybe the rogue was her stalker. That opened up an entirely different set of problems if it wasn't a one-off situation.

He squeezed her arm, and she wiggled deeper into his embrace.

As it stood, if the Blackthorn Clan learned the truth, they would wipe her memories. He tried to avoid this fate by not getting deeply involved with her, because if she discovered his secret, that was exactly what would happen. If they wiped her memories and she forgot about him, not only would he lose her, but she would be more vulnerable to her stalker without him around to protect her.

He couldn't even go to Headmistress Velastra for advice, because she would have to follow protocol.

No one knew the long-term effects a memory wipe had on humans; the procedure wasn't performed often. He needed to protect Charlotte from that. Needed to protect her from everything. And the only way to do that was to keep her secret.

He listened as her breathing settled and grew deeper as sleep claimed her. The sound had grown familiar after the many nights of her lying next to him.

He wouldn't compromise this.

"I think it's time I return to Rosebrook," she said, grabbing his attention. "I'm for real this time."

He looked up from the plate of honey Dijon chicken, green beans, and rice to find her nodding with a determined look on her face.

After the impromptu nap on his chest, she woke and insisted on making him dinner for listening to her "silly ramblings," as she put it. He had a feeling she was still trying to convince herself what she saw was a product of the heat, or something else—something except the reality. It pained him to let her accept that, but if she believed it wasn't real, maybe he could keep others in the dark about it.

She continued, unprompted, as she cut into her chicken. "I mean, after the break-in, the dead bird, and now an honest-to-goodness threat on that note, I can't stay here. I don't care if he thinks I'm giving in." She gave him a weak smile. "I'm stubborn, not stupid."

"Well, you know I'll stay with you until you're ready to go, and I'll take you back once the time comes."

Her smile brightened, and she nodded. "I know."

Dinner cleanup was a quiet affair.

After Charlotte told him about her desire to go home, she told him about how she was at a stage where the important parts for her class were completed to make it possible for her to transfer to another program without failing. He didn't realize how short summer classes were at her university, and she'd enrolled in the extended session. She still needed to square away things with her advisor, her landlord, and the financial aid department, but she wanted to leave within the week, if possible.

During the cleanup, he couldn't help but think about what it meant to take her back to Rosebrook Valley.

He wanted her away from the psycho who kept inserting himself into her life, but he had grown to cherish the time he spent with her here, alone. Returning to their hometown would end that. Even if they returned at the beginning of July, leaving another month of his summer break before she had to make any decisions about school, he couldn't stay with her like he did in this apartment. He would go back to Blackthorn Academy, and she would return to living with her parents.

The muscles in his chest seized at the thought, a fist gripping and squeezing at his heart. The idea of parting from her felt like someone had asked him to cut off a limb.

How had she worked her way so thoroughly under his skin?

Aiden sat on the edge of her bed with his forearms braced on his thighs, staring at the floor like it could give him the answers to explain his sudden need to not be separated from her .

He'd done his best to keep a physical distance between them to avoid tempting himself into pursuing the spark he'd felt between them since last fall.

Outside of hugging her, providing comfort when things were tense after his arrival, and outside of at night when she moved near him in her sleep, he stayed away.

Until today.

Until his need to take care of her won over and the enthralling taste of her lifeblood caressed his tongue and set his veins on fire.

His cock twitched in response to the memory, and his gums tingled above his canines.

Calm down.

The bathroom light switched off, casting the entire apartment into darkness except for the space where Charlotte's bed was located. A small lamp on the nightstand draped in a decorative sheer fabric cast the room in a soft light.

Intimate light.

It didn't help settle his desire for her.

She approached where he sat on the bed, but he didn't look up until small toes wearing navy blue polish came into view.

Gone was the flowy sundress, replaced by a thin white camisole in a strawberry print with lace trimming the hem and sweetheart neckline. Short sleep shorts in a matching style with lace trimming the bottom completed the outfit. The red bow at the waist waved in front of his hindbrain like a cape taunting a bull.

He reminded himself the pajamas weren't for him. She owned those before he ever spent the night with her.

He was sure if the air conditioning wasn't broken, she might wear something more modest around him at night. She seemed too concerned with someone mistaking her intentions not to .

This was a case of his fantasies getting the better of him. Fantasies of spreading her out on the bed and peeling off the dainty pajamas with his teeth and making her writhe beneath him until she forgot her own name.

"Aiden?"

"Huh?"

"You okay? You're kinda staring."

He shook his head a few times in quick succession to rid himself of the mental image he painted. "I'm good."

"Can I get in bed then?"

"Oh. Shit. Yeah."

She giggled as he stood and stepped aside for her to crawl beneath the covers.

He barely suppressed the groan that rose in his throat by biting his knuckles as he got a mouth-watering view of her shorts riding up, giving him an eyeful of the bottom of her backside. No panty lines. She was trying to kill him.

She flopped down and nestled into the pillow, looking up at him.

"You coming to bed?"

He felt like an idiot. So caught up in lust that he forgot how to function.

This time he didn't answer her, choosing to climb beneath the covers himself. If he didn't, she'd end up with another eyeful of his manhood.

She turned to her side to face him. "Do you think my parents will be mad?"

"No. They'll be thankful you're safe."

"Yeah, but I don't know if I want to tell them about this."

"You don't have to, you know. I mean, you can just tell them the part about changing your major. It's not like it's a lie. "

"Mm," she hummed in acknowledgment, snuggling further into the comfort of the bedding.

He turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness except for the moon spilling across the bed.

"I guess Mom was wrong for once."

"What do you mean?"

"It's the solstice." When he hesitated to say anything, not knowing how to respond, she continued, "Mom sent me a text earlier this month saying something was going to change my life today. Doesn't feel like anything changed. Unless deciding to go home is life changing?"

"It can be," he said, suppressing a yawn.

She made another humming sound and shifted, falling quiet.

His eyes slipped closed, and he settled. Tomorrow he would visit the clinic and tame the thirst that had burned his throat ever since he tasted her blood. Then he would visit the police station to file yet another report. He wasn't even sure it mattered at this point if she planned to leave. But if she returned to Athens, she would need this guy caught.

Riley was crying.

He needed to go to her. Needed to wake up from the beautiful space keeping him suspended in time.

His little sister needed him.

His eyes slipped closed, blocking out the beautiful aurora and stars in his peripheral as he floated through space and time.

It no longer surprised him. He knew exactly where he was.

The rogue had shot him, and he found himself trapped between life and death once again. Trapped in a beautiful purgatory all his own.

The crying grew louder .

He always assumed the cries he heard upon his death were those of his friends. Assumed the loudest wails were those of his baby sister. But the longer he floated, the more he questioned the sound.

He knew Riley's cries and Blaire's. He doubted King Adrian's sisters or any of the female members of the clan would mourn him with such sorrow. Lukas and Seth didn't sound feminine, and Aiden even knew what they sounded like when they cried.

Someone else was mourning him. Someone else sounded devastated and broken, heaving and sobbing at the loss of his life.

He wanted to tell her it was temporary.

Wanted her to know that in a few minutes Blaire would bring him back.

"Please don't cry," he said, but no sound traveled into the vacuum of cosmos balancing his soul precariously on a knife's edge.

If Blaire's magic didn't reach him, he would slip into nothingness. But he knew it would. Soon, warmth and life would fill him again, bringing him back to those he needed to look after. Needed to keep safe.

He floated longer than ever before, making it possible to hear the cries as clear as if the person were in front of him.

It wasn't his family.

Something tugged on his heart. An unfamiliar sensation that never happened in previous versions of this never-ending nightmare.

His soul knew her voice.

"If you don't come back, her heart will remain lost forever. Another bond lost to time."

The disembodied voice made his skin prickle. Another new thing. Never had he heard a voice. Only the wails of a female in mourning.

He always assumed them to be Riley's, but now he wondered if what he heard after being shot was someone else entirely.

The tugging on his chest grew and pain lanced through his body, soaking his nerves in a sea of fire.

It was her.

Whoever she was needed him. Called to the very fiber of his being.

The answer hit him with the force of a hurricane: his Korrena was calling to him. Mourning the loss of what would never be.

Aiden sucked in a gasping breath as he came to, heart pounding out a dissonant rhythm that couldn't be healthy.

Was his Korrena born already? Or was it a sign of what would be?

His mind rioted with scattered thoughts that made little sense. When everything happened, he didn't hear a voice. The cries weren't clear. It was his sleep-deprived mind adding things to the story that weren't true.

A soft, warm hand lay on the center of his chest. "Aiden? Are you alright?"

A sharp pang splintered his chest.

Without questioning his actions, he rolled over the top of Charlotte, planting his knees at the sides of her hips, bracing his hands on either side of her head.

Her beautiful eyes opened wide; the moonlight made them sparkle almost unnaturally. He knew better, though. She wasn't like him.

Another pain seized his chest.

He dropped his head, capturing her lips parted with shock, desperate to soothe the ache that burned within.

She didn't resist, didn't even try to pretend to be modest and uncertain. Something in him knew she craved him as much as he craved her, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember why he never acted on that need.

Her arms came around the back of his neck, pulling his body into hers as she met his passion with her own. He groaned into the kiss as her manicured nails raked the short hair at the back of his head .

When her teeth sank into his bottom lip, he growled in response. Her hips canted upward to press against his straining erection.

He supported his body weight on his forearm and elbow as he moved his left hand down to slide up her waist and ribs, pushing her camisole up until his thumb brushed the bottom of her breast.

Breaking from their heated kiss, he dragged open-mouthed kisses across her jaw and down her neck, scraping his teeth across her collarbone, making her squirm to try to get her pelvis closer to him.

His lips trailed over her sternum, and he rose, pushing the camisole up until it bunched above her breasts.

His mouth watered.

Her breasts were generous, far more than a handful. Heavy, balanced, the perfect teardrop shape. They taunted him with what he'd never thought he'd have. It felt like sheer torture to watch her in her tight tank tops at night. He tried ignoring the way her nipples would pebble beneath the fabric without her realizing it, but it added to the temptation.

She lay panting beneath him, her eyes wild and blown with need. He could hardly see the gemstone green that captivated him. He wondered if she realized she hadn't stopped squirming her hips the entire time his mouth lay siege to her.

Lowering himself, his ribs nestling between her thighs, he held her small body still as his mouth descended on her pale pink nipple.

His tongue ran across the tiny bud, flicking in a way that made her pant and reach into his hair. When she pressed harder, he bit her nipple, and a hitched cry escaped from her mouth. The flat of his tongue chased the sting to soothe the tender flesh.

His mouth moved from her nipple and across the expanse of her breast, kissing and sucking in random spots until she tugged at his hair .

"Harder," she demanded.

Who was he to deny her?

When he sucked the side of her breast into his mouth, he latched on with his blunt teeth at the same time, making her back arch off the bed as she yelled into the darkness of the room.

Lifting his head, he looked at the pretty pale skin lit by moonlight. An angry red and purple welt shaped like an eclipse painted her skin. There was no mistake what left that mark. No mistake he had marked her.

A piece of that pain piercing his chest fell away.

Sliding down her body, he showered her skin with kisses, licks, and lingering bites.

He'd never seen someone so fair before.

In the daytime, her skin held a soft pinkness beneath the surface; beautiful and delicate, like petals in a milk bath. But her skin under the moonlight reminded him of the fresh fallen snow he'd seen from his window one night on vacation in the mountains when he was younger.

Ethereal. Haunting.

She had him under her spell, and the more he lavished her body with attention, the deeper he sank into depths he didn't know if he could return from. Was the solstice meant to change his life instead? This felt life changing.

"I want you," he murmured as his lips ran across her navel. "Please let me have you."

He didn't recognize his own voice.

Never had he felt the desire to beg. But the desperation to lose himself inside of her tore at the core of his being, demanding satisfaction.

Her answering moan set his blood on fire .

His teeth sank into the soft flesh of her belly, not quite breaking the skin. She squealed, choking on a half-moan, half-sob.

"Please, please ," she mewled. "More."

Rising to his knees, he unraveled the red bow at her waist. Unwrapping a gift made for him.

As he tugged down the tiny sleep shorts, his earlier suspicions were confirmed. Not a scrap of cloth underneath. He laid his head back between his shoulders with a groan. If he didn't calm down, he would embarrass himself.

He'd never felt this way before. Never felt such an intense burning need to be connected this way to anyone.

When he lay the soft cotton aside, he lowered his mouth to the delicate, soft flesh beneath her belly, kissing a line from one hip to the other. Her curves were a wet dream come to life. A petite waist with full, rounded hips begging for his fingers to mark them.

His chest rattled with the needy, untamed sound he made as he looked down on her, tugging off his own athletic shorts and boxer briefs. There wasn't a part of him that didn't like the idea of her wearing his marks on every single inch of her body.

"Aiden," she whimpered at the loss of his touch. The sound of her need for him made him dizzy.

His hands found their way to her skin immediately, the soft, pliable flesh yielding to his rough caress.

Charlotte seemed to like it when he wasn't gentle. Liked when his worshiping kisses turned into devouring bites. Her moans, and the soft sounds she made when he tightened his grip on her hips, dragging his hands down her thighs to squeeze, made his balls draw up tight.

He intended to taste her. To see if her arousal tasted like the potent sweet blend of pineapple, vanilla, and buttery brown sugar that permeated his sinuses with every heavy breath he took. But he couldn't.

If he didn't get inside of her now, he didn't know if he would survive.

"Please," he rasped, his engorged cock pressing against her thigh, leaking and marking her skin.

She hadn't finished nodding her consent before he was already gliding his shaft over the dampness of her slit, coating himself to make it easier on her when he slid inside.

He wasn't a small man, and that extended to every part of him.

Their mutual groans of need and delight echoed in the room as he slid into the heat of her body.

He paused halfway in, giving her time to adjust. Giving her time to stop him if she needed—if it was too much.

When her breathing evened out, he pressed in, filling her inch by inch until his thighs met the backs of hers. Seated deep inside her, he felt her muscles clench and flutter around him already. He didn't think she would last long. He knew he wouldn't.

He leaned forward, hands bracing himself on each side of her head, gripping the pillow tight as he withdrew from her slowly. As much as he didn't want to, he rocked into her at a languid pace, easing her adjustment to his size. She'd told him she wasn't a virgin, but he didn't know the last time she'd been with a man and didn't know what she was used to.

The thought of another man inside her made another side of him sit up and take notice. His hips snapped forward at the thought, and he hit deep inside her with more force than he intended.

Her scream was a mix of pleasure-pain, and his eyes widened in alarm, only to be replaced with surprise when she looked into his eyes, panting the word, "Again. "

He rose over her. Grabbing hold of her hips, he dragged his cock out of her to the head before slamming back inside. Her answering mewls flipped the switch the rest of the way, and he began thrusting into her at a punishing pace.

Fingers dug into skin, both hers and his, and he prayed to the stars his forearms would bear the marks of her passion come tomorrow instead of healing.

"Aiden, Aiden, oh god Aiden ," she cried out, her body wiggling and her head thrashing from side to side.

His body fell forward, elbows taking his weight as he gripped her left breast in a firm squeeze, pinching the nipple as his mouth lay claim to the side of her neck. The sound of her repeating his name like a prayer made him feral. She needed and wanted him.

He felt the familiar tingle in his gums but was too lost to the sensation of pleasure to care.

His teeth scraped the column of her throat as her climax slammed into her. Her walls fluttered around his shaft, strangling his cock in a death grip.

Charlotte's cries as her orgasm swept her away, and the nails biting into his shoulders as she held on for the ride, were his undoing.

His canines elongated and raked the skin of her throat. Her answering gasping moan made his brain short-circuit.

Blood trickled down her neck, and he lapped it up without hesitation, sucking her flesh to steal whatever the slight break in her skin would give him. His own release took him, and he filled her with a piece of himself.

They lay still, panting in the afterglow. Sweat trailed over his temples and his skin glistened as much as hers in the moonlight. Several minutes passed where she clung to him, and he stayed buried within her until the haze of lust lifted and the reality of what happened crashed in around him.

Not only had he made love to her—there was no way he could describe it as anything but that—but he'd done it without a condom. Filled her without caution.

Part of him preened at the fact. Roared with satisfaction at marking her in the most intimate way he could.

A sinking feeling settled in, pushing down his ego.

He'd broken her skin with his fangs. He resisted the urge to bite into her, but he still drew blood and drank it without concern.

Withdrawing from her body as the cold reality of his situation made his cock soften, he fell onto his back. She rolled toward him and looped her leg over his, laying her hand on his chest without a word.

It didn't feel strange at all that they didn't use many words.

Everything felt so natural. Like their bodies knew what the other needed with little coaching. Without the fumbling that came with a new sexual partner.

Surrendering to their desire felt right.

She reached out, and he laced his fingers with hers, laying them on his chest. It felt so good to lie in bed with her naked body in his arms. It felt right. And that terrified him.

What would she think if she knew he was just like the monster that had terrified her in the alley?