away, and Kalina felt the sun glimmer upon her face. She looked up. The mountain was high above them, its peak so high up that she couldn’t even make it out. Had she really fallen so far? She sighed. How could she bring herself to go back? To see Justinsize
That would make it real. And she couldn’t let it be real. She couldn’t even say the words out loud to herself: Justin was dead. Molotov had fed him his blood. Justin would turn. No, it couldn’t be true – it couldn’t! It was all a bad dream, some terrible nightmare. Justin was safe at home, safe and sound in his bed, nothing was wrong…
A nd if she hadn’t left him in the dining room, if only she hadn’t gone off with Stuart, if only she hadn’t given into her lust.
“It’s better if you get on my back,” Octavius was saying, rubbing her back with his fingers. Her body tingled as he massaged her taut, tense shoulders; she melted into him. He knelt down before her, his broad muscular back welcoming her. She tentatively stepped onto his shoulders, curling her legs around his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their proximity galvanized her. Feeling Octavius’ skin against hers, feeling his closeness, drove her mad. She wanted him; she wanted to melt into him. She wanted him to protect her, to make everything all right. She couldn’t let herself think of Justin now; she couldn’t bear it! She just wanted to close her eyes and breathe in Octavius’ musky, intoxicating smell, press her nose against him chest and breathe him in. All of him. She felt his blood coursing through her, her whole body shaking with the force of her desire for him. He was inside her; his blood was inside her, enchanting her from inside out.
Stop torturing yourself, Kalina , she told herself. Stop it – you’ll only make it worse. You’ll only get hurt. But Kalina couldn’t control it. Now that she was all the more certain of Octavius’ love for her, her desire for him was stronger than ever. She wanted him to take her then and there – she wanted him to drive out her pain, her loss, to kiss her into oblivion and in his pleasure remove her agony. She wanted to forget about Justin, forget about him lying there, his skin cold and clammy, his pulse dead, waiting to rise again…
She just wanted to forget.
Now that Octavius’ blood was in her, she could feel his desires all the more keenly. She knew what he wanted; she knew what she wanted. She could feel that every muscle in his body was straining not to fly away from the inn, fly away from the mountain, fly to some quiet cave or hidden castle and ravage her utterly. His muscles tightened beneath her, and she knew he was tensing with his desire for her. She could feel how much he wanted it – more than ever before. And it was becoming harder and harder for him to keep control. Not when he wanted so bad to lose it, to luxuriate in losing it.
Yes, she thought gratefully – she wanted him to lose control. She couldn’t with Justin now, she couldn’t deal with her loss, with any of it. She wanted Octavius to take her away – far away from this pain, this sadness, far away from her troubles. Just for an hour – just for a day – she needed to forget. Her body was trembling with pain. Justin! How could she have been so stupid, letting him die lie that – why hadn’t she been stronger? Faster? Better.
How could she have failed?
No, she wouldn’t think about that now. She would let her blood take hold of her; her blood would make her forget. She leaned into Octavius, tightening her thighs around his waist, luxuriating in the ripple of his hardened muscles beneath her taut legs. She nuzzled the back of his neck, letting her tongue linger on the brittle hairs that lined it. She sucked gently on his earlobe, giving herself over utterly to the pleasure of touching him, of being near him.
“Careful, you,” Octavius’ voice was ragged with desire. Yet beneath the hoarse
That would make it real. And she couldn’t let it be real. She couldn’t even say the words out loud to herself: Justin was dead. Molotov had fed him his blood. Justin would turn. No, it couldn’t be true – it couldn’t! It was all a bad dream, some terrible nightmare. Justin was safe at home, safe and sound in his bed, nothing was wrong…
A nd if she hadn’t left him in the dining room, if only she hadn’t gone off with Stuart, if only she hadn’t given into her lust.
“It’s better if you get on my back,” Octavius was saying, rubbing her back with his fingers. Her body tingled as he massaged her taut, tense shoulders; she melted into him. He knelt down before her, his broad muscular back welcoming her. She tentatively stepped onto his shoulders, curling her legs around his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their proximity galvanized her. Feeling Octavius’ skin against hers, feeling his closeness, drove her mad. She wanted him; she wanted to melt into him. She wanted him to protect her, to make everything all right. She couldn’t let herself think of Justin now; she couldn’t bear it! She just wanted to close her eyes and breathe in Octavius’ musky, intoxicating smell, press her nose against him chest and breathe him in. All of him. She felt his blood coursing through her, her whole body shaking with the force of her desire for him. He was inside her; his blood was inside her, enchanting her from inside out.
Stop torturing yourself, Kalina , she told herself. Stop it – you’ll only make it worse. You’ll only get hurt. But Kalina couldn’t control it. Now that she was all the more certain of Octavius’ love for her, her desire for him was stronger than ever. She wanted him to take her then and there – she wanted him to drive out her pain, her loss, to kiss her into oblivion and in his pleasure remove her agony. She wanted to forget about Justin, forget about him lying there, his skin cold and clammy, his pulse dead, waiting to rise again…
She just wanted to forget.
Now that Octavius’ blood was in her, she could feel his desires all the more keenly. She knew what he wanted; she knew what she wanted. She could feel that every muscle in his body was straining not to fly away from the inn, fly away from the mountain, fly to some quiet cave or hidden castle and ravage her utterly. His muscles tightened beneath her, and she knew he was tensing with his desire for her. She could feel how much he wanted it – more than ever before. And it was becoming harder and harder for him to keep control. Not when he wanted so bad to lose it, to luxuriate in losing it.
Yes, she thought gratefully – she wanted him to lose control. She couldn’t with Justin now, she couldn’t deal with her loss, with any of it. She wanted Octavius to take her away – far away from this pain, this sadness, far away from her troubles. Just for an hour – just for a day – she needed to forget. Her body was trembling with pain. Justin! How could she have been so stupid, letting him die lie that – why hadn’t she been stronger? Faster? Better.
How could she have failed?
No, she wouldn’t think about that now. She would let her blood take hold of her; her blood would make her forget. She leaned into Octavius, tightening her thighs around his waist, luxuriating in the ripple of his hardened muscles beneath her taut legs. She nuzzled the back of his neck, letting her tongue linger on the brittle hairs that lined it. She sucked gently on his earlobe, giving herself over utterly to the pleasure of touching him, of being near him.
“Careful, you,” Octavius’ voice was ragged with desire. Yet beneath the hoarse
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