Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
In the days since I took her in the church, I’ve grappled with what has changed. My ear grew back, thankfully—turns out I’m more vain than a priest should be—and my wounds healed, but my relationship with Larimar has been altered. It’s like I’m looking at her through a different lens. I’ve always desired her, wanted to possess her in an obsessive way. I yearned to keep her forever, whether that meant keeping her in the back room of this church or perhaps, one day, venturing out of this desolate, weather-beaten village and going elsewhere—maybe a pirate ship helmed by a crew of blood-drinkers, setting sail for seas uncharted with her by my side.
But those feelings came from a place of ownership, from wanting her to be mine. It’s why I needed her to be bound to me in exchange for my magic. It might just be for show on her behalf, but I take it seriously. When I say I will travel to the ends of the earth to find her if she ever leaves me, I mean it.
However, after I’d been inside her, after I came until there was nothing left, after I gave myself over to temptation and sin, I realized what I’d been afraid of this whole time. I assumed that if I broke my vows, if I fucked her properly in the eyes of God, that I would be handing the reins over to the beast inside.
But that didn’t happen.
I realized my true fear, what has always terrified me about my sea goddess, is how I felt about her. Not just as a possession or an obsession, something to own and keep and behold, but someone to protect, to cherish, with a part of her to covet.
Her heart.
But I wouldn’t know what to do with anyone’s heart. I am the last person who would keep it safe. If she gave me hers, I would only abuse it. I am not a good man, no matter my vocation, and I only know how to hurt the things I care about.
As for my heart? Well, I don’t really have one. It was lost the day I was turned into a Vampyre. No, not lost. I didn’t lose my heart that day.
I shredded it to pieces.
I liquefied it.
It dissolved the moment I killed my family.
Like it had never existed at all.
A man like that doesn’t deserve to have a heart.
Despite Larimar reminding me of what I fear most, there was no chance I could stay away from her. Naturally, I couldn’t anyway, since I had to check on her each day. I have the humble jobs of emptying her latrine bucket and bringing her food and water.
I kept the chain in her mouth and her hands bound. My body needed time to mend, and the last thing I wanted was to have her attack me and have to start healing over again. I shudder to think what other body part she might try and bite off. I know I gave her pleasure over and over again—and she knows what will happen to her if she tries to run—but I can’t take my chances.
Sometimes I want to, though. Often. One more taste of that cunt, one more tight squeeze inside her. I want to feel the way she quakes on my cock when she’s coming. I want to hear her breathless, greedy little noises as she finishes, the heaven only I can make her see.
And right now, she’s standing in front of me with a carnal look on her sweet face. Such a juxtaposition—a devil and an angel in one, and she’s naked, bound, and chained.
I hold a wet cloth in my hand, offering it to her from the washtub. I moved it here from my cottage, figuring it was a more dignified way to bathe than from a bucket.
“I figured since you don’t have a tail anymore, you should probably bathe yourself.”
I’ve loosened the chain just enough so she can speak, albeit muffled and slurred at times. “You’ll have to untie me first,” she says sweetly, showing me her wrists.
She only looks innocent. I know what those claws can do.
When I don’t move for her, she rolls her eyes and climbs into the tub, her long, wheat-blonde hair falling over her shoulder like an early Renaissance painting. “Fine,” she says in a hard, muffled voice. “Then you’ll be the one to bathe me.”
I exhale heavily and nod. “Fine.”
She sits down in the tub, the water barely covering her. It’s freezing since I wasn’t able to heat it up, but she doesn’t seem to notice. I suppose that’s another part of her Syren self that carried through since she used to swim in the waters offshore, rife with penguins and floating shelves of ice.
“Tell me something about yourself,” I say as I rub a slice of olive oil soap across the washcloth and apply it to her shoulders. Her skin is so soft and smooth it slides right over her. “Tell me about where you were living before I found you.”