Dinner with a Vampire by Abigail Gibbs

Dinner with a Vampire by Abigail Gibbs

Author:Abigail Gibbs [Abigail Gibbs]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2012-09-04T04:00:00+00:00


FORTY-ONE

Kaspar

She dived into the nearest waltzer, settling back into the fake leather. Reluctantly, I joined her, inching towards the warmth of her skin draped in her coat. The carriage spun as I stepped in, eyes stinging from the constant glare of the flashing lights humans seemed to love so much.

Yes, there was something wrong. Namely, the fact I knew I had just hours left of being able to touch her; to feel her glowing skin against mine, the feeling that I found myself craving with more intensity with every passing hour …

As I sat down beside her she began fumbling with the top button of her coat, a flush coming to her collar as a bead of sweat rolled down her neck. She was struggling, so turning away I reached over with one hand and unfastened the top two buttons, not exactly accidentally brushing against her now exposed chest. I felt her shiver below me, despite the fact that touching her skin was like pressing my hand to a hot stove. I sensed her face flaming, the blood rushing to her cheeks before she mumbled her thanks.

The sirens wailed and the floor rattled and began moving, our carriage beginning to spin. The bar that wrapped around the seats shook violently beneath my hand, and on impulse I wrapped an arm tightly around her slender shoulders. I half expected her to resist, but she didn’t. Instead, she inched closer, allowing me to draw her into my chest, her hands leaving the bar without question.

With her body pressed to mine I could feel the heat of her skin on my bare arms – a heat that was becoming almost familiar to me now. It was a different warmth from that of the humans that became my victims: their heat would fade as I sucked them dry. But as I drew her closer her warmth would only increase; as I touched her she would not turn blue but red as blush coloured her cheeks.

I made my mind up months ago that I would have her, take her, please her and use her for my will. I’m a man of my word. And her blood. Oh, her blood! It was sweet – not as sweet as that served at the balls – but I didn’t drink it for its taste. I drank from her because I craved her reaction. I wanted to hear her softly whimpering below me as I pierced her neck and veins; I wanted to see her blood trickling down her slight shoulders, seeping across her breasts, tinting the scars that Ilta had forced on her, still struggling to heal. I took her blood because unlike any other creature I had ever hurt she never cried out, never screamed, even when I set out to maliciously cause her pain.

It was that stubbornness that had always intrigued me, her steadfast and unwavering belief in what she thought was moral and righteous …

He won’t physically stop me touching her. How could he stop



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