Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 169578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 848(@200wpm)___ 678(@250wpm)___ 565(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 848(@200wpm)___ 678(@250wpm)___ 565(@300wpm)
“I didn’t believe it would be like this.”
“What do you mean?”
Resting in the safety of his arms, she luxuriated in the overwhelming sense of completeness they shared. “Gratifying. It’s…undeniable.” For the first time since meeting him, she accepted what she’d become. “You truly did change me.”
“This was always who you were meant to be, Delilah.”
He was far from infallible. On the contrary, he was absolute, with far too many outdated views. She initially thought his claim about receiving a divine calling to find her was a lie, a misguided belief only a cult could justify. But now she wondered if it was true.
“You know, you’re always saying I’m yours, that God chose me for you. That I somehow saved you.”
“He did. Without you I would have been lost.”
“Did he?” She wondered. “Because you don’t seem like anyone who needed to be saved, Christian. And I’m beginning to think you got it backwards.”
“How so?”
“Maybe your God sent you to save me.”
He pulled her into a tight hug. “I’ll always save you, pintura. You have my heart and my protection, for all of eternity.”
She kissed him softly, her body fitting perfectly against his as they lay as one. Yin and yang. She was more content than she’d been in days—weeks even. Until she noticed something strange about her skin.
“What is it?” Christian sat up and looked at her arm where the vibrant indigo lotus had paled to a pallid cornflower blue.
“My tattoos are fading.”
He examined her arm. There was no denying it. Just as her saliva had healed his skin, his blood was regenerating hers. She’d been turning her piercings daily since she noticed these changes, afraid that those might heal as well.
“I’m being erased.”
“No, my love. You’re still here.”
He didn’t understand. Her tattoos were a part of her. They represented the identity she chose, not the crap she’d inherited. “Will they all disappear?” Would she disappear?
“I don’t have these answers for you.”
What was happening to her? Would the person she was a week ago recognize who she was today? No. The resounding answer came with little concern for her feelings, knocking the breath from her lungs.
She looked at her finger. The ladybug, her first tattoo and the oldest, was practically gone. “How do I stop it?”
“Delilah, all transitions must eventually let go of their mortal self. We can’t move forward until we accept that we can never go back.”
Was that it then? Would life truly never go back to the way things used to be?
CHAPTER 21
Her back slammed into the wall, rattling the dresser and all of its contents. Delilah snapped her jaw, but Christian was faster, as usual.
His teeth clamped down, piercing her flesh at the curve of her shoulder as his hand cupped her sex possessively. Mine.
His claim ran through her like heroin, drawing out a long shiver as she preened and those first delicious pulls from her vein forced her to soften. “I’m not going.”
His fingers hooked into her, possessively driving her passion higher until she was arching and moaning in completion. “You are.”
Her hand curled around his length, tugging and working him to that precarious edge. Then, when he was least expecting it, she sprang.
They crashed onto the floor in a frenzy of jaw-snapping snarls. She clawed and tumbled with him, rolling across the hardwood until she landed him on his back, laughing when she got him to submit.
“My turn.” She lunged, sinking her teeth into the flesh over his heart.
Christian grunted as his body went still for those first few pulls and then he was holding her to him, rocking his hips against her body, as he growled and took back control. “Yes. That’s it, pintura. More.”
She drank heavily as she gripped and stroked him—teased him—marked him, all the while never letting him regain the upper hand.
The moment she paused, dislodging her fangs to take a breath, he propelled forward and once again had her on her back, his hard length driving into her as he pinned her body to the floor, arms spread overhead, suspended by his unbreakable grip. “There can only be one alpha, little one.”
She moaned and took every dominating thrust as their pleasure blended as one. She could keep fighting him, but why bother? She lived for this part when he finally took her the way he wanted—hard, greedily, and without apology.
They came in an explosive release of ricocheted euphoria. Only when he marked her in every possible way—scent, sweat, seed, bite—did his grip on her arms loosen.
His weight blanketed her as he leaned down and caught his breath. It had been like this ever since her come to Jesus moment about the blood. She was immortal. She needed blood. How had she ever assumed it could have been any other way? Some battles just couldn’t be won.
But others could. “I don’t understand why I have to go to service.”