Beyond Blood

Fever Dreams

SEXUAL CONTENT WARNING

Chapter 10: Fever Dreams

My scream tore my throat raw, only for the sound to turn to a gargling choke as my attacker sunk sharp fangs into my neck. Skin gave way with a sickening pop, then a crunch of bone, followed by the sickening sound of bubbling blood. The iron taste of it spilled from my mouth, coating my lips, my chin, my neck. . .

Pain radiated like fire, scalding my veins, sizzling at nerves, blinding my sight in flashes of orange and white.

Again and again I banged my fist against the cold metal of the garage door at my back, waiting to for someone to come, waiting for the pain to ebb, but in this reality, no one came.

No one saved me.

In the end, the cold touch of death steals me away in a mess of bony fingers clutching my flesh, and lips frantically pulling at the last drops of blood.

A sharp pinch to my inner thigh brought me flying upright, eyes snapping open to an unfamiliar bedroom and an unfamiliar duvet twisted between my legs, the sheets sticking to sweat slick skin. Panting so hard the air burned down my throat, panic tight around my chest, it wasn't until a pair of dark eyes came into my vision that my mind stopped whirring enough to come back to me.

I was in Taran's room. His bed. And it was his pale face tugged into a concerned frown, his fingers stroking the stinging spot he'd pinched to rouse me from my nightmare.

"You're safe, Little Mouse. Breathe with me, slower, in and out." He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, and for some reason my body was compelled to copy, holding it in starved lungs before following him as he let it back out his mouth.

Two or three more times he had me do it, the soft circle of his fingers on my thigh both soothing and electrifying all at once. My gaze fell to watch the affectionate way he touched me, so unlike his usual self, as was the reflection of that affection and worry in his normally coal cool eyes. Fingers of fear still scratched at my spine, images of my attack flashing in my head on a reel.

Acting without thought, I threw myself at Taran so hard that when my lips crushed against his, our teeth clicked together. A sound of confusion left him, his hands lifting to press my shoulders back.

"Sorcha, no."

"Please," I whispered against his lips, kicking the duvet away so I could practically crawl into his lap, still too drowsy with sleep to feel any shame. "Please, I can't. . .I don't want to think, please."

Again he tried to push me away, but with far less determination than the first time. "We should talk about what you dreamt about. You can't push away what happened forever."

But one more night wasn't forever.

He sighed as my fingers crept down his naked chest to play at the band of the boxers he wore, but it was the nip of my teeth at his throat that broke his will. He growled, and at first I thought I'd pushed too far and was in for swift retaliation, Taran shoving me so my back hit the bed so he could prowl over me.

"Did I not warn you about biting vampires?" he asked roughly, his hands pinning my wrists by my head, nose brushing mine as those dark eyes threatened to devour. "It's an invitation I am not gentlemanly enough to refuse, brazen little mouse. No matter how sweetly you scream."

Oh gods, how could such words elicit anything but fear? How did it make the fire in my belly grow so hot I began to squirm.

And scream I did.