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Sebastian
AS I LEANED IN CLOSE to her, I inhaled deeply. She smelled heavenly. Not that it should have surprised me at that point. She always smelled heavenly. I knew her blood was bound to taste good—quite probably the best I would ever taste—if her scent was any indication.
I licked my lips, allowing my fangs to come out. I was just about to sink my teeth into her neck and taste her blood when I noticed the way her body had tensed up. I saw the way she was trembling; her whole body was shaking like a leaf.
Taking a few steps forward, I stared down into her face. She looked like a deer in headlights. Her beautiful green irises, which sparkled under the dim lighting, were so full of fear.
The look was familiar to me; all of my slaves got it the first time I drank from them. But there was something different this time. Not that it should have been surprising at that point. I already knew that she was nothing like any of the slaves who had come before her.
She was different.
I still didn’t fully understand it, as hard as I tried to make sense of it. All I knew was that she made me feel something. It was something I’d never experienced... not since I’d turned into a vampire, at least.
As I stared into those fearful eyes, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. The worst part was knowing that I was the one who had ignited that feeling in her. It was me who she was afraid of and it made me feel like crap.
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t put her through it, not knowing how afraid she was. I couldn’t knowingly or willingly give her a reason to fear me.
As I pulled myself away from her, I could feel my own palms shaking. I avoided her gaze as I said, “You may go.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see her frown. “But I thought you were going to drink—”
“It doesn’t matter what you thought,” I cut her off, gritting my teeth as I tried to fight off the urge to pin her down against the chair and sink my fangs into her neck. “I want you to go back to your room. Leave. Now.”
Seeming to sense my change in mood, she quickly climbed out of the chair. She made her way for the door and, shooting one last glance over her shoulder at me, fled from the room.
I waited a few moments until she was gone and then stepped out into the hallway, too. I fought the urge to follow after her into the Slave Chambers and, instead, headed for my own bedroom.
Once I was inside, I grabbed some blood from my fridge and drank directly from the bottle. As I took long swigs, I stood in the center of the room, staring at the crimson walls. The color usually made me happy, but I knew nothing could make me happy at the moment.
The blood didn’t take the edge off the way it normally did. Anger was still coursing through my veins. Anger at her for being so god damn beautiful, yet so completely unaware of her beauty. Anger at myself for allowing this girl to have such an effect on me. How could I let a human have such control over my emotions?
Because she’s Lila DeHaven.
That was the only thought that seemed to come to mind when I tried to figure out why this girl was so different. I wasn’t sure how even that could have explained the way I felt, but it seemed like the only possible explanation.
The weirdest part about it all was that the amount of bloodlust I felt for this girl was stronger than the bloodlust I’d felt for any slave, and yet I was somehow about to fight the urge... for now.
I feared that the next time I wanted to drink from her, her fear wasn’t going to matter to me. I feared that I wouldn’t be able to control myself, that I would give into my bloodlust.
But even more than that, I feared that once I got a taste of her blood, even if it was just a single drop, I wouldn’t be able to stop.