Blind Love( Completed, Kings Series, Book 4)

Thirst

Samuel took steady steps, went up the stairs, and dumped me unceremoniously in front of my door. "Go take a shower, lock the door and stay inside," he ordered. "We still don't know who did this to you."

He could take his commanding ass and go to Hell with it.

"What about some food?" I asked. His color darkened what I assumed to be light grey. He was not raging mad, but he was irritated. He thought I was a petulance. Wait, what? I was beginning to recognize and understand colors. An expert on color language, so to speak. That was cool.

"I will send some food," he said. The grey clouds were still there so his voice as calm and still as a waveless sea didn't fool me. This was amazing, I was beginning to like this talent. And, I owed it to his blood, I had to admit.

The door slammed behind me, as the only indicator of his true emotions.

I breathed. In. Out. In. Out. I counted my breaths. When I had reached a hundred, I moved. I needed to think.

Was he telling the truth? If it hadn't been him who drained me, then who had? I realized I preferred it to be him. It helped me sustain my anger. I wanted to be mad at him. I wanted to be right about him. Otherwise, I was doomed. Just his scent was an aphrodisiac that could be my end. And, what if I became addicted to his blood? God, have mercy on me, the thought almost crippled me.

You will thirst for my blood. His words rushed to me as in a race, unhindered. I swallowed. Hmm...was I thirsty? Maybe I was. I felt like I was. I surely was, I corrected myself. I could kill him for implementing the power of suggestion in my mind. Whether I was really thirsty or not, I didn't know. But suddenly, it had become all too real. The more I thought about it, the more I believed I was. I wanted to drink. Water, I repeated to myself. I wanted to drink just water. I would make sure I was just thirsting for water. I would ignore his warnings not to drink it. I tried to find a jug of water in the room, but I couldn't. One would assume the vampires would think of putting the basic necessities in the guest rooms.

I walked to the bathroom, realizing that I'd dropped my fake cane in the massacre room. Or should I have said the mating room? The room where I'd bled like a virginal bride. That cane had brought nothing but misery. Good riddance!

I turned on the faucet. I pulled my head under the streaming water and just stayed like that. The water was lukewarm. It didn't help ease the millions of thoughts swarming in my head. I cupped my hands and drank a little, just to see whether it was helping. I felt better. That brought a smile to my face. It was working.

I started taking off my clothes. I stank. Badly. Of him. My blood. His blood. Our blood seemed to have mated long before we did. Blending into a perfect union of colors on my pale skin. Yet, all I could focus on was his blood. I shivered with distaste of myself. I would wash it off before I started smelling my own self like an obsessed creature. I couldn't be sure that I wouldn't. Not anymore.

I stepped into the tub. I let the water clean me, washing the stickiness of the blood. I lathered my body with the soap, my hands rubbed it on my skin, spreading it on my stomach, my neck where I'd been assaulted, my arms which had held onto him for life...... my nose, the spy I'd caught in my midst but couldn't punish...... my mouth which had drunk the life-saving nectar, and by some small chance wanted more..... my hair which he'd grabbed when he'd given me a lesson in passion...I let the water run over me, rinsed all that the soap visited on my body like a caressing whisper, just like the kisses he'd rained on my face. You'll starve for my body Damn it! Had it already started? I repeated the process harshly, mercilessly, seeking awareness in the pain until my skin was raw, sensitive to the touch, until I was sure I had no trace left of the incident, of him.