The Vampire's Club 3 by X Aratare

Author:X Aratare [Aratare, X]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Raythe Reign Publishing
Published: 2019-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

7

OWED

Two-hundred and fifty years ago in Russia…

The Nomad’s breath was icy cold. It gusted against Konstantin’s face and throat. The creature easily turned Konstantin this way and that as if examining him. But what was it examining him for?

A predator admiring its prey, Konstantin thought, hysterical laughter bubbling up inside of him. He’s going to devour me. I can scent blood already on his breath. A bowl of blood would never be enough for him. He will drain the world.

Yet despite those thoughts, Konstantin gasped out, “What do you want with me?”

And the answer was both as expected and not.

“Your blood. Perhaps your body.” The Nomad cocked his head to the side again.

Konstantin let out a keening noise. His body? He could only imagine what this creature would do to him. And then a series of images flashed through his mind of his clothes being shredded by those claws, of his bare front being pressed against a tree as that armored form pierced him to the core, and of teeth--sharp and white--sinking into the pliant flesh of his throat as this creature took his blood and his body at once.

“You see what I offer you?” The Nomad tapped his temple and Konstantin’s eyes widened. Even his thoughts were open to this creature.

The tip of that claw traveled down his cheek in almost a caress. He felt his skin part and blood begin to seep. The creature drew near and took a deep draught of his blood as well. Konstantin tensed as a tongue, cold as that breath, lapped up the beads of crimson.

“Have you ever been with anyone, I wonder?” The Nomad leaned in and sniffed him.

Konstantin slammed his hands against those armored shoulders. He kicked at the hardened torso and metal-sheathed legs. But it was useless, less than useless as it just caused that massive hand to tighten around his throat more. Konstantin’s hands went to his throat and he dug his fingers around the cold metal, trying to pry it off. He was only able to give himself a few precious millimeters to breathe and he guessed that the Nomad allowed him to do that.

“You are not virginal. I smell the stables on you. Perhaps the stable master? I tasted his blood and body last night. He is quite attractive for peasant stock,” the Nomad murmured. “But nothing compared to you, my noble born savage.”

Konstantin’s eyes widened. Leonid was the one servant that his father had allowed to remain, because he was never in the castle. And when Konstantin had gone to visit the horses that morning, he had found Leonid weak and distant. He had told the man--whom, like the Nomad surmised, he had enjoyed in the past--to rest. He’d thought Leonid simply ill. But was the truth that this creature had attacked him and Leonid had not remembered?

“Will he die?” Konstantin asked.

“Not unless I choose to drain him dry. Which I might. It depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether I am satisfied by others before I leave here.” The Nomad leaned in and sniffed him again.

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