22. 21

21

Serina

I had actively avoided Thorne and Nox for the past three days. There was still no sign of Bastian, which only made me stir more in the confines of my room. I hadn’t left my room unless I absolutely had to.

I wanted to talk to Thorne and Nox, but anytime I worked up the nerve to go downstairs, I stopped myself. What the hell would I say anyway?

Nox wasn’t wrong, and if anything, where my thoughts had been the last three days only shoved another nail into that truth. I hadn’t stopped thinking about the way Bastian’s kiss felt, as if he made sure to sear it into my mind himself.

Or the way Thorne’s hands felt against my hips, his smile as we danced around the kitchen, his sexy smirk as he glanced at me over his coffee cup…

And Nox, with his filthy fucking mouth all over me while I rode his fingers in the garage. I couldn’t get enough of any of them.

So what the fuck would I say? I don’t want you, and I’m leaving?

I was sure they could literally smell the desire I had for them, so trying to deny it wouldn’t do me any favors.

Ugh, I huffed, rolling out of bed to the fresh smell of coffee from downstairs. I wanted some really bad; maybe I could just snag a cup and then lock myself in my room again.

It was worth a shot. I quietly slipped down the stairs and into the kitchen where the full pot of coffee was already brewed and ready for the taking on the counter. I grabbed a large mug from the cupboard and quickly poured myself a steaming cup, adding in a splash of cream and sugar.

I took a long sip and sighed happily. Then I turned, readying to run away back up the stairs, but I ran into a hard chest. My coffee sloshed in its cup but luckily didn’t spill.

I stared at my mug a moment, not wanting to glance up into those kind eyes—until I did…

Thorne stood there with a hint of worry etched on his features holding his empty tumbler, readying to fill it up. He leaned into me and reached for the coffee pot.

I tried to slink past him and back toward the stairs, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“Stop…” he said, and I paused, clinging to my warm cup with both hands. “I want you to come on a walk with me. It’s a nice day today,” he offered, and I hesitated.

He wasn’t wrong, and it had been days since I’d gotten a breath of fresh air, but I still paused before I decided to accept his offer.

“Okay… I’ll be right back,” I said, moving up the stairs to change out of my pajamas and into something more suitable for the cold weather.

I started coming back down the stairs moments later, and he watched me with eyes filled with awe, as if he were watching someone magnificent come toward him. I didn't believe I deserved such a look.

We walked into the kitchen and after I finished off my cup of coffee, we made our way to the front door, where Thorne grabbed my coat and helped me put it on before we went outside.

I looked at the railing around the porch, instantly feeling warm at the memory of Bastian kissing me against it regardless of the winter’s chill.

“Any word from Bastian?” I asked, looking over at Thorne, and he shook his head.

“No, not yet, but I’m sure we’ll hear something soon,” he tried to reassure me, but it didn’t work.

We walked down the steps and around the side of the house before moving across the yard and into the woods where trails led to small parks and campgrounds in the distance. Similar to the one my dad and I used to take to go to our normal fishing spot.

The thought of him sent an ache through my chest. My birthday was coming up, and so was the one-year anniversary of his death…

“Are you alright?” Thorne asked, placing a hand on the small of my back.

“Yeah, just reminiscing,” I admitted, and his head cocked.

“What about? If you don't mind me asking.”

“My dad. We used to walk trails like this all the time. For my birthday every year we would go on a fishing trip, and this trail reminded me of that.”

“I’m sorry. I know you two were close.”

“We were.” The silence lingered for a few moments, my mind wondering what my father would think if he saw me now.

Would he be ashamed of me? Would he want me to be happy, even if it was with Vampires? I hadn’t let the thought linger in my mind at all the last few days.

Finally, I broke the silence.

“What about you? What should I know about you?” I asked, looking over at him as he matched my stride.

“What do you want to know?”

“Have you ever loved a woman?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Have you ever loved a man?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the time to,” I replied honestly. Being on the move most of my life, my love life primarily consisted of one-night stands and maybe some weekend fun, but not much more than that.

Anytime I tried long distance, the next time I came to town, the guy would be shacked up with someone else and I’d just move along to the next.

“That’s a shame. You deserve to be loved,” he said, and I looked over at him, tentatively meeting his gaze. “Cherished,” he continued, his eyes stirring with so much emotion I had to clear my throat and look back toward the trail.

I wanted to change the topic, but after what Nox said in the garage the other day, I couldn’t stop my curiosity.

“Have you ever… shared, a woman?” I asked slowly, and he cocked a brow in my direction, a small grin curving the corner of his lips at my curiosity.

“Yes,” he said, and heat started creeping up my neck, flushing my cheeks.

“Have you all… shared?” I pressed further, but he knew who I was referring to.

“Nox and I have. I don’t think Bastian ever has, but he’s always been a little more… possessive, though I’m sure he could be persuaded.” He eyed me, and it was as if he read my mind as he answered the next question that had been stirring in my thoughts. “And no, I haven’t ever loved the women I shared; it was for a night of pleasure and nothing more.”

“ Would you share a woman you loved?” I asked, and then I realized that we weren't walking anymore, and he was facing me, crowding me. I could feel the warmth of him with how close he was to me.

“I’d never deny the woman I love anything, be it pleasure or something else,” he whispered, and I shivered, heat instantly tugging on my center.

His face was so close to mine, but right when he began to lean into me, a guttural growl shattered the stillness of the woods.

My head snapped in the direction of the sound, and my eyes locked onto a pair of fiery orbs—those of a Werewolf. Its massive form emerged from the shadows of the early morning woods, muscles rippling beneath coarse fur, teeth bared in a feral snarl.

I didn’t have time to process what was happening before Thorne tossed me to the side and the monster attacked. Growls and snarls filled the air, talons slashing into Thorne’s side with reckless abandon.

“Thorne!” I screamed, dread curling in my gut.

Without a second thought, I unsheathed the small silver dagger I kept in my boot and lunged forward, my movements a blur as I intercepted the beast's next slash on Thorne.

I shoved the blade into his back, digging past flesh and sinew.

I would never leave the house again without all my weapons. My dagger was all I had, and it wouldn’t do much. Not here.

The Werewolf yelped and then sent Thorne flying through the woods. His body thudded against a nearby tree, his expression pained as he slid to the ground in a heap.

The beast turned on me as I back-stepped, clutching my bloodied dagger in my palm, and the crunch of bones and peeling of skin sounded for a moment before a massive naked man stood before me.

“I’m after you, Velika,” he spat, his voice still sounding more beast than human.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re not the only one,” I scoffed, lifting my dagger, holding my confidence regardless of the fear I felt. I had never taken a Werewolf down with just a dagger, but there was a first time for everything.

With a guttural snarl, the Werewolf lunged at me again, his claws extending, but he didn’t fully shift.

I sidestepped just in time, feeling the rush of wind as he swiped at empty air. I countered, slashing with my dagger, but he was agile, managing to dodge me easily.

I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I evaded the Werewolf's ferocious attacks. The dagger felt warm and reassuring in my hand, the only thing keeping me grounded, focused.

The Werewolf circled again, its eyes fixed on the glimmering silver with hatred. He growled, sensing the danger it posed.

And then Thorne leapt on him from behind, going for his neck, trying to rip the Werewolf’s head from his shoulders. But the beast lifted his clawed hands, shoving his razor-sharp talons into Thorne’s back as he threw him off.

“Stay out of this, bloodsucker. I just want my revenge!” he roared as Thorne landed on his feet, readying to go for him again.

“What do you want with her?” Thorne growled.

“She killed my brother when she was on her little murder spree, and now it’s time for justice to be paid.” He landed on all fours, his body shifting fully back into the massive beast from before.

Thorne stepped protectively in front of me, his breaths heaving and labored. His wounds leaked crimson on the forest floor, but he stood strong.

“You’re not going to touch her,” he seethed, and the Werewolf’s head cocked with a snarl.

“Very well, then you’ve chosen your death,” he sneered before he attacked.

Thorne shoved me back with his inhuman strength. He wasn’t trying to hurt me; he was trying to separate me from this fight.

But I refused to leave him. The Werewolf tackled him to the ground. Thorne was weak—too weak. Any Vampire should be able to get out of his hold.

I rushed forward as I heard Thorne roar out in pain; the wolf had clamped his jaws between his neck and shoulder, ripping it to shreds.

“No!” I screamed in anguish.

I seized the opportunity, lunging forward with all my strength. The dagger met resistance as it pierced the Werewolf's back again, and again and again.

A howl of pain reverberated through the trees as he released Thorne. Blood oozed and sizzled from the dog’s wounds.

The Werewolf recoiled, but I refused to relent.

I pressed the advantage, slashing and stabbing with the silver dagger, each strike driven by desperation, determination, and…

Fear…

Fear of losing.

Not fear of losing my life.

Fear of losing his.

Thorne…

The Werewolf’s movements had stilled, but I had kept slashing, kept stabbing. I was sure I had hit his heart multiple times, but I couldn’t stop until I heard Thorne's voice.

“Serina… it’s okay,” he murmured weakly, still underneath the beast that lay dead on top of him.

“Thorne,” I rasped, tasting the salty tears that I knew were streaking down my blood-splattered face as I used all my strength to shove the wolf off of him.

I quickly cupped his cheeks, looking over his body. His wounds were awful and wouldn’t stop bleeding.

Shaking my head, a sob burst from my lips. “Fuck, Thorne, why aren’t you healing? What do I do? What do I do?” I cried, trying to get the bleeding to stop.

“I’ll live, Serina, I just… I just need to feed. Help me get back to the house; I’m sure there’s blood in the fridge,” he said, his breathing coming out in heavy pants, sounding wet from his own blood.

He tried to stand with my help, but we only made it three steps before he leaned up against a tree and slid down its trunk.

“Fuck, Thorne, get up,” I whined, trying to throw his arms over my shoulders and lift him with no luck.

“Listen to me.” His voice was a raspy whisper; he sounded like he was fading, and it was tearing me apart. “Go back to the house and get Nox. He’ll bring me something.”

Howls echoed through the trees in the distance, and panic consumed me as I looked over my shoulder, glancing at the dead Werewolf crumpled in a heap. But now his fur and claws had receded, and he was nothing but the body of a man lying in a pool of his own blood.

“They travel in packs. I can’t just leave you here; they’ll kill you,” I argued, and he closed his eyes, his head lolling back against the tree.

“I’ll be alright,” he whispered, so low I could barely hear him now.

He cracked his eyes open just so he could cup my face with a bloodied hand and run a thumb over my tear-smeared cheeks. I shook my head.

I didn’t want to leave him.

I didn’t want to lose him.

I didn’t have a choice.

I knew in that moment that I would let him feed from me.

I looked over my shoulder again and then back toward the trail that would lead us to the house. Placing one of my legs over his waist so I was straddling him against the tree, I knew this position would be the easiest for him to get to my neck.

“Serina, what are you doing?” he asked.

I moved my hair away from my neck, and he realized what I was doing, what I was going to allow him to do.

“No.” He shook his head. “No, Serina, I can’t—I won’t do that to you.” His eyes looked over my neck with a sadness to them because of the light pink scar that had become a constant reminder of one of the worst days of my life.

I shoved it all aside. This was different.

“You will. I’m not leaving you here,” I urged, and he eyed me for a moment, his heady gaze full of contemplation, searching mine for any doubt that I may have had.

I wanted him to feed from me. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that I wanted to save him. And he wouldn’t find any, either.

His throat bobbed as he glanced at my neck and then back to my face. I leaned into him, getting closer until our faces were a hair’s breadth apart.

“This will only hurt for a second,” he started, and I nodded my head, my palms growing clammy as he grabbed my wrists and rested my hands on his chest. “Push away from me if it’s too much,” he ordered.

He eyed me, wanting me to be well-informed and in control of what was happening. Then he kissed at my pulse, causing heat to pool in my gut.

“You’re in control,” he reassured me as he took one of his hands and tilted my neck to the side to give him better access to me. “You’re safe, Serina,” he whispered against my skin before his fangs buried into my neck. Hitting their mark with quick precision.

A gasp left my lips; I hadn’t had time to even tense from pain.

In the same moment, a groan came from him. The sound made my entire body shiver. And instead of pain, I felt… desire as he pulled his first drink from me.

It coursed through me, instantly making my eyes flutter as he gripped my hips as if he was trying to maintain any control he had to stop himself from feverishly grabbing onto me and pulling me into him.

He wanted me to be in control, wanted me to feel safe .

But as the venom of his bite heated my blood, my core, even I didn’t trust myself. I’d give him every last fucking drop of me.

I needed him, needed more.

My hips rolled against the hard length of his desire, and even through the layer of our pants I reveled in the delicious friction. I couldn’t stop; I was no longer in control. His venom had taken a hold of me—my body.

A moan left my lips as his tongue moved languidly over my neck with every long pull he took from me.

A fire burned through my very center, flaring up my spine with every thrust against his hard cock beneath me. I cried out as I gripped onto him, riding him faster until I saw stars explode behind my vision and his name became a whispered moan on my lips.

Did I just do that?

With one last drink, he pulled away with a groan as he kissed the wound gently and leaned back against the tree, heaving for breath. He watched me a moment before he growled and gripped my face, kissing me so beautifully it worked another whimper up my throat.

I leaned into the kiss. It was deep, slow, and heavy. I could taste my lingering blood still on his tongue. I started unbuttoning his shirt, my hands desperate to get to his pants, when he pulled away again.

“No,” he said. “No, it’s my venom. This isn’t what you want, not yet.” Trying to catch his breath, he shook his head.

I looked down at his wounds. The only thing there now was the leftover blood on his clothes, pink puffy marks marring his skin from where he had been clawed and bitten, but I was sure they would be gone by tonight.

A roar echoed in the distance, and it brought us both out of our lustful haze.

“We have to get back,” Thorne said as he helped me off him by swinging my leg from his lap. He stood, and when I tried to follow, I instantly began falling back to the ground.

Thorne caught me, hauling me into his arms as black spots filled my vision.

“Easy, Serina, you’ve lost a lot of blood,” he said. Glancing around one last time, he took off down the path back home.

I felt like a heavy puddle of goo, my arm hanging loosely at my side.

“I’m going to get you home,” he promised.

Home.