Blood Orange: Book 1 — The Dracula Duet by Halle Karina

Author:Halle, Karina
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Dahlia

The next morning I awake in a tomb.

At least, it feels like a tomb, it is so fucking dark.

I figure I’m in Valtu’s bedroom because I vaguely remember that’s where we ended up and I can tell it’s morning because of the birdsong from somewhere outside, but I didn’t think his room would be this dark, vampire or not.

Then I blink and my eyelashes press against something and I realize that the room isn’t dark—I have something over my eyes.

I gasp, trying to move, to bring it off my face, but my arms are above my head, my wrists tied to each other.

I open my mouth to yell but suddenly a rush of cold comes at my face and a large, cool palm is placed over my lips.

“Shhh,” Valtu says quietly, his voice rich and soothing. “It’s just me. Professor Aminoff.”

I breathe heavily through my nose, trying not to panic as he presses his hand over my mouth harder.

Oh my god.

He found out, didn’t he?

He knows what I am. The glamor slipped during sex last night and he knows I’m a witch, he knows I was sent to kill him.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

He’s going to kill me.

“You’re trembling,” he remarks in surprise.

He pulls his hand off my mouth and I gulp for air as his fingers go to the side of my face, lightly touching my cheekbones. “Have you forgotten last night already? Have you forgotten what I am to you?” he whispers.

I swallow hard, trying to regain my breathing. “Why…why am I tied up?”

“Because,” he says.

That’s all he’s got?

“Because what?”

You’re a psycho?

“Because I wanted to see your fear,” he says, dragging the last word out. “I told you that I would push you beyond what you were comfortable with.”

“I believe you used the word terror, actually.”

Does my fear turn you on? I want to ask. But I know the answer. Of course it does. Perhaps this is the only way he can be with me without feeding on me, to ellicit fear in some other way. Maybe he feeds on my fear just like he does on blood.

“Terror is subjective.”

I try to move my arms over my head again but find them attached to something, maybe the headboard, and I struggle a little. I can practically hear him smile.

“When did you do this?” I ask, trying not to panic. “I would have woken up.”

“You were out like a light,” he says. “And I would have done your ankles next. Kept your legs spread. Then I would have ensured you woke up while you were coming on my tongue.”

It doesn’t sit right that I didn’t wake up while he both slipped a blindfold over my eyes and tied my wrists together and to the bed, but I have no choice but to accept it. Either he did something to me, compelled me to stay asleep, or I was just that exhausted from all the sex last night.

Okay, considering how it went last night, getting

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