Poisonous Temptation: Division 2 (The Berkano Vampire Collection) Page 3

  Aurelia felt her lips curl up into a small smile. She nodded her head. “I am,” she admitted.

  “That’s all right,” the man said. “We just came from the battle. Thyos was quite a sight to behold. There’s a shortcut, just cutting through this alley, and then you’ll be on the road home.”

  “Oh.” Aurelia seemed surprised by the notion. She did not remember traveling through an alleyway, but if it was a shortcut… “All right.”

  “I’ll show you the way,” he said, smiling at her. “Come on. It’s just over here.” He waved her over, making sure to keep a safe distance away so she wouldn’t get frightened. Aurelia felt herself relax even further.

  As such, she followed him to the alleyway and down the long narrow path. It was silent, but she could still hear the man ahead of her so she quickened her pace—up until he completely halted directly in front of her and stopped her by placing his hands on her bare shoulders and throwing her against the wall. The scent of shit and piss made her nearly gag, giving him ample time to drop his right hand and raise a blade to her collarbone that she had not seen hanging from his waist.

  Aurelia screamed. He took the knife and slashed her skin.

  “Shut up, witch,” he said, spitting out the last word so his saliva sprinkled on her skin. “Pull up your dress.”

  Aurelia’s eyes widened. What a fool she had been to think she could trust this man.

  “Pull up your dress,” he commanded once more.

  His left hand went to tug at her skirts, and with that little room for movement, Aurelia managed to knee him in the crotch as hard as she could. She started muttering all the spells she could think of but nothing worked.

  He grew angrier. His knife dug deeper into her skin, causing another scream of pain to rip through her lips.

  She was going to die, she realized. All because she had left home because she was angry with her sisters.

  She really was a stupid witch.

  Chapter 4

  Thyos did not think; he simply acted out of instinct. The moment he heard the woman scream, saw her struggling to save herself, he knew he had to intervene. Not because it was the right thing to do. Thyos did not care about morals, about right or wrong and who dictated what they meant and when. He did not appreciate that humans believed they had a right to act and do as they pleased, as though boundaries were not something that existed in their faction.

  Humans were the ones who stumbled upon him when he was feasting on a human, one who had tried to attack him. Thyos had only defended himself and curbed his hunger. From then on, he had been tagged and treated like a piece of meat, brought out in front of spectators to put on a violent show of entertainment. Punishment for killing a human. Now he was forced to kill his own kind.

  He almost hated himself for it.

  He ripped the human off the woman and threw him into the brick wall. He hoped a drunk vampire pissed there beforehand. The man screamed, muttering and cursing. When he realized what had happened, he spit on Thyos and ran off without another word. Thyos was almost tempted to go after him and erase his memory but his attention was stolen by the woman. His nostrils flared. Witch, but something other.

  Hmm.

  She looked strangely familiar. He wondered for a moment if she was one of the women he had fed on at the brothel. Then he shook his head. A witch would not be caught at a brothel if she wanted to live. The humans would take her, or the vampires would torture her. If she was in full acquisition of her powers, she might consider herself protected. If not, he did not believe it would be worth the risk for them.

  She picked up her head from her position on the ground and blinked. When her eyes locked on him, he instantly knew where he had seen her before.

  The Colosseum.

  She was the reason for the injury he had during his battle.

  “What are you doing in West Babylon?” she got out, her voice heavy with pain.

  Thyos blinked, unsure if he should be upset with her quick dismissal of him. Truth be told, he was heading to a well-known brothel run by humans in order to feed for a decent price and fuck for a little more than that. She, of course, did not need to be privy to his business, so instead of telling her anything, he responded with a sneer.

  “Is that the thanks I get for saving you?” he asked, his voice cold.

  He was surprised to find that he was genuinely annoyed by her behavior. Did she honestly think he went around offering his blood to anyone, let alone a snobby witch whose ignorance reeked and attracted those wanting nothing more than to take advantage of her? Did she think he would have stopped for her unless he genuinely believed her to be in true danger?

  As much as he did not care about the three separate factions, he did not appreciate humans taking what they wanted without consent.

  It was how he felt about his own clan. The Berkano were powerful and used their power to claim and take and abuse anyone who stood in their way.

  Thyos had had enough of it. He did not necessarily believe in peace; sometimes, violence was necessary in order to attain something important. But when there was no point…

  He preferred to stay out of shit like that. He couldn’t be bothered with caring. He had other things he needed to worry about. He had no hope of his kind ever breaking free of Paletyn’s tyrannical rule. He had no care that the humans walked around like their shit didn’t stink, that they had no abilities and yet they somehow reigned over both witches and vampires.

  At least the vampires weren’t required to kiss their asses the way witches did. The witches were powerful but naive. Did they really think the humans wouldn’t find it in themselves to maintain control over the witches as well?

  But, Thyos reasoned, witches needed humans. The psychic bond between a witch and a human helped feed their abilities, helped them recharge, the way blood did for the vampires. It was why witches hated his kind; vampires were feeding on something that was supposed to give witches life.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked her, cocking his head to the side. “You should know better than to be in East Babylon.”

  The witch opened her mouth to respond but stopped and looked away. Her breathing came out in harsh grunts. The blood from her wound pierced the night, causing his nostrils to twitch.

  She smelled sweet. Pure and soothing, like snow.

  His stomach rumbled, and he bit back a groan. Why had he stopped? He was on his way to feed since he was always so goddamn hungry after a battle. He needed sustenance, needed something in him.

  No, not something.

  Blood.

  He needed blood.

  And this witch was bleeding out in front of him, like a fawn, beautiful and tragic.

  He knew the risk. He knew that one taste could send him into shock, two might paralyze him. Three would kill him.

  But maybe, just maybe, he could try a drop. Just to see. He would stop after a drop.

  “I ran away from home temporarily and decided it was time to go back,” the witch said. Her voice was low but somehow still clear, and she was able to look him in the eyes without flinching back in fear.

  The girl was either completely ignorant of who he was, or she was entirely too trusting. Either way, she was a fool.

  And what did that make him for deciding to save her, for harming a human in a vicious attack in order to save a witch? He should have killed the human, or, at least, dazzled him so he wouldn’t remember what happened. He should have completely ignored the struggle and let survival of the fittest rule the Division, just like it had for centuries. There was no place in this world for a witch like her.

  When he quirked a brow, she continued. “I . . .” she finally said, swallowing as a way to moisten her raw throat. As she spoke, he realized it hadn’t worked. “I was out for a walk.”

  He quirked a brow. “A walk,” he murmured doubtfully. “And why would a witch like you be going for a walk on the border of East and West Babylon?”

  “How do you know what I am?” she asked, wincing.
His eyes dropped to her collarbone. The blood seemed to be clotting, but she would have a nasty scar.

  “You have a distinct smell,” he said, wrinkling her nose. He cocked his head to the side and slowly knelt down, resting his elbows on his knees, popping up his heels from the ground. “I also recognize you from the match this afternoon.”

  “Oh.” He noticed her cheeks turn pink, and he found himself mildly amused. “Yes, well.”

  “I take it your sister isn’t very friendly?” he inquired, purposefully avoiding the fact that she did not seem able to have her magical abilities. This was not something he was used to, considering all witches manifested their power at a young age. Or so he had heard. Even witches who were not pure – which was also incredibly common nowadays – manifested their powers when they hit puberty.

  Was this witch certain she was really a witch?

  Or was she one of those witches who came from a witch family but never manifested her powers?

  “Which one?” she muttered under her breath.

  A quick smile littered his face before he could help it, and he was surprised to find himself amused by something she’d said. Not much amused him these days, not when vampires were used as entertainment for humans and witches used their power to control those vampires.

  “What’s happening to me?” she asked, throwing her big hazel eyes up at him from her position on the dirt. The cut she’d endured from her attacker was sprinkling drops of blood onto the land like raindrops. Her dress was ruined. Her voice was raw. “I don’t feel so good. My head is light, buzzing but like, a hummingbird. Flying. I’m not making any sense.”

  “You aren’t,” he agreed. “The cut your friend gave you is deeper than it seems. You’re losing blood.”

  “I’m losing what?” she asked. Thyos watched as she tried to look down at her collarbone, but she struggled to do so. She cleared her throat, almost as though it was difficult for her to breathe. Like she was choking on her own blood.

  Speaking of which, the rich scent of the tangy Sangre pierced the night air and reminded him that he had yet to feed, that his stomach was empty, and that after the battle, he needed sustenance in order to provide him with energy.

  “Blood,” he croaked out. He was suffocating from the scent, growing delirious with thirst. He had eaten yesterday but that clearly wasn’t enough. If he didn’t get away from her, he would be condemned to feeding on her and killing himself doing so.

  It was no secret that witches’ blood killed vampires, one of the many protections their faction had against his kind. Even so, that didn’t stop some from attempting to taste a witch. Just to say they’d tasted one.

  “Am I, am I dying?” Aurelia asked, widening her eyes as she threw a look up at Thyos.

  Something stirred inside of his chest. He couldn’t quite put a name to it, wasn’t sure what to call it, but it was something similar to sympathy. Which made no sense since she had been nothing but a nuisance earlier today, and she was becoming a bigger one now.

  “Possibly,” he said, before kneeling down to look at her wound. His eyes widened when he realized the severity of the injury. He could not help but stare at the line of blood, the uneven drips that rolled down her bare skin and stained her beautiful dress, making it flawed. Imperfect. Messy. “If you do not fix it in the next hour or so, there’s a good chance you could lose a good amount of blood.”

  “What?” She all but yelped. She immediately realized what she had done and turned her head to wince. “Sorry. Can you explain that to me again? I’m just—I’m just not fully understanding what’s happening to my body.”

  “You’re slowly bleeding out,” Thyos said, slowly enunciating each word. “If you don’t get some sort of help, you could die.”

  “What kind of help?” Aurelia asked. “I’ll do anything. I just…” She swallowed. “I just want to live.”

  Thyos spoke without thinking. He had no idea where the words came from because they certainly did not make sense. They did not come from him. He wondered if she did have the ability to charm him, if they were compelled out of him. If that act back at the Colosseum had been just an act.

  She looked so innocent, it was hard to believe she’d been pretending to be powerless. But he had seen things he did not think were possible.

  Things like the words that spilled out of his mouth.

  “Vampire blood will heal you,” he assured her. “Blood like mine.”

  Chapter 5

  Aurelia looked up at him with disgust in her eyes. It was not her intention to seem so critical when what he was offering was sacred to his kind, but she could not help but shudder at the thought of drinking Sangre.

  “If you would like to die by bleeding out so vampires can feast on your pitiful body, so be it,” the vampire said with a graceful shrug.

  Aurelia clenched her teeth together. She did not appreciate the snippiness in his voice. She did not appreciate the way it slid down her spine like a string of velvet ribbon, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

  “Your pride matches those of humans,” he said with a curious grin on his face. His fangs sparkled in the moonlight, and Aurelia felt herself curl back from him as much as she could.

  “You know my blood will heal you, witch,” he told her, his tone serious but his eyes, his eyes seemed intent to understand what she was about to do. “Witches know how to do nearly everything, but they do not have the ability to heal themselves.” He brought his wrist to his mouth and bit down on his flesh. Crimson-colored blood oozed out of his pale flesh, and Aurelia nearly gagged at the sight. Thyos rolled his eyes. “You know you are dying, witch”

  Aurelia closed her eyes and took a ragged breath. She had no idea what had happened, why this vampire felt that he needed to attempt not only to defile her body but to slit her throat. He kissed and left a stain of blood across her collarbone. She could feel the blood spill out of her, and with a furrowed brow, she nodded her head, unable to formulate any words.

  Thyos tentatively placed his wrist in front of her face, waiting for her to move forward and claim his wrist as hers. Aurelia hesitated. The scent radiating from the liquid was sweeter than she expected, and her gag reflex did not kick in the way she originally thought it might.

  “I’m not in the habit of wasting my blood on a witch,” he quipped.

  Aurelia brought her eyes up to meet his. The steely blue eyes that haunted hers were enough to send a shiver down her back. “How do you know what I am?” she murmured in wonder. Or perhaps it was the blood loss.

  “I can smell you,” he told her, his eyes traveling up and down her face. Aurelia was too exhausted to wonder why. He smiled sardonically. “I also recognize you from the arena. Are you going to continue to waste time? Or would you like to regain your strength?”

  Aurelia dropped her eyes back to his wrist. She knew if she did not do this now, she would not be able to muster up the courage to do it at all. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward, forcing her lips onto his wrist. She expected to be gagging soon, expected to be heaving, but Thyos tasted surprisingly…. sweet. His blood was thick and heavy, and there was a sweet bitterness that went with it, like wine. Her head was getting dizzy as she continued to feed, and, without realizing it, she let out a groan of pleasure at the way he tasted, the way he went down her throat easily.

  Her eyes rolled back to her head, and she felt herself drink further, drink deeper. Her moaning grew louder, but she did not actually hear herself. She was too consumed in her feast.

  Her entire body tingled in places she had never felt before.

  Her pelvis started to throb, making her heart race faster. She had never felt this way before. Logically, she knew it was because of the blood, knew that the chemicals laced in his blood sent her endorphins into overdrive, making her entire body buzz with light energy and happiness. As a witch with no powers, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was how she was supposed to feel all the time.

  She was completely turned on, both physically and metaphor
ically. She felt her breasts press against her ruined dress, her nipples hardening as she danced her tongue along the opening of his self-inflicted wound. She hoped he wouldn’t notice, but she was too far gone to care. She forgot to be ashamed of her wanton position on her stomach in the middle of an alley that smelled like piss and shit, feeding from a vampire.

  It was the most erotic thing she had ever done. The only other thing that came close was kissing a boy when she was eleven years old after Adela had dared her, only to find out he was her cousin.

  Adela was a bitch.

  This was nothing like that, nothing at all.

  When she found her belly full, she slowly released his arm. Her tongue darted out to lick up any stray remnants of blood, like she was some kind of starving animal and he was her feast.

  She looked up at him, her cheeks stained red, and murmured meekly, “Thank you.”

  “Where do you live?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. He seemed to want to ask more, perhaps make a smart comment about her feeding but managed to refrain. For that, she was grateful.

  “The west end,” she replied. She pushed herself up so she was kneeling rather than lying flat on her stomach. “Just across from the stream.”

  He snorted. “Of course,” he muttered.

  She frowned. “And what is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

  “It means your kind is as stupid as they are wealthy,” he told her.

  There was a peculiar look on his face, one that she felt like she should recognize. It caused her mouth to go dry and her heartbeat to slow down. It captivated her gaze and forced her to stare; she could not look away if she tried.

  Was this being dazzled by a vampire? As a witch, she thought she had been protected by it. But she did not feel that pull, the tug, that she would have felt if he had been trying to dazzle her, manipulate her into doing something she did not want to do.

  “Um, thank you,” she murmured when she finally felt satisfied and her stomach was full. “I, I’m sorry if I took too much.”