Take My Hand Chapter 17

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Chapter 17

            Carson groaned in pleasure, tightening his grip on Jocelyn’s hand as she whimpered his name. Ah, how he loved to hear his true name on her lips. Her breath skittered across his bare shoulders, and he felt goosebumps appear. No one else had known his name, much less spoken it, in more than two hundred years. It was like a shock to his body yet a lullaby to his mind when she whispered it in the tones of pleasure and love.

            One of his hands threaded through her hair, and he drew more strongly on the wound in her neck. Her blood was sweet and tingled across his tongue, the pleasure of it wreaking havoc with his reason and his body. The taste of her was like fire in his veins, leaving behind chaos in the wake of trembling desire. Distantly, he felt the feeling of her finger nails digging into his bare back, but the pain only added to the desperate bliss of those moments.

            The feelings coursing through his body were like none he had ever felt. His muscles tingled as life rushed back into them, her blood healing the damaged cells. His bones began to mend themselves as the bruising disappeared from his skin. The exhaustion that had plagued him fled in the addition of exhilaration and adrenaline to his tortured mind and body and soul. He could feel power coursing through him as pain faded, the bloodlust lessening and strengthening in strides. The horrible, helpless lust he had felt slipped away only to be replaced by the lust that Carson felt for none besides Jocelyn. Her blood called to him in its Siren’s song, making her irresistible in his strongest moments much less in the weakened state in which she had found him. As his body healed, he felt himself compelled to continue to drink from her, though his mind pleaded with him to stop. He felt her blood pressure lessen, her pulse slow. The amount of blood seeping between his lips diminished as he felt her life start to slip away.

            Her memories, her life flowed into him in her final moments, as was expected when a victim’s life was coming to an end…

            Her mother.

            Her mother’s death.

            Her stepfather.

            The abuse.

            Running away.

            Cold nights.

            Days without food.


            Her apartment.

            Her friends.

            Her jobs.

            The night she found him.

            Nights spent with him.

            Her time here with Dania.

            Finding him here.

            Her love for him.

            Emotions and memories poured into him, burning into his mind until he knew her better than he knew himself. Each memory, each emotion seared itself into his own memory as he felt every emotion she had ever felt. Loneliness. Fear. Anger. Love. Joy. Pride. Each one connected with something inside of him and resonated with his own past and his own hopes for the future. God, the pain of her past caused an ache in his soul, a hole in his own heart to mirror her own for the hurt that he could not heal, could not take from her and bear himself. But the love she felt for him, pure and innocent and true, was enough to have him weak and trembling on his knees as his damaged heart was mended by the love of the beautiful woman who had saved him from Dania, from himself, from life.

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