Page 4 of Accidental Blood Lust
LOCHLAN
I’ve hadplenty of bad ideas in my life, but this might have been one of the worst. My skin is burned from the sunlight that managed to reach me before I thought to crawl underneath the pile of rotting leaves and overgrown grass surrounded by these stupid, thorny bushes. I thought I would start to heal as soon as I got out of the light, but I haven’t, and now I just feel so… weak.Tired. Like I could sleep here in the dirt and leaves for a hundred years.
Did I really hear Jareth or am I just imagining things? Am I dying?
No, I can’t be dying. I’m a vampire.
Weak laughter bubbles up in my throat but doesn’t make it past my lips.
“Fuck.”
Thatdefinitelysounded like Jareth. I pry my eyelids open half an inch and smile just as weakly as I tried to laugh. He’s here. He really found me. A warm, salty, delicious scent tickles my nose and my gums start to ache.
“What thefuck,Loch?” he growls.
The scolding tone feels so familiar that it reminds me what I’m doing here, why I risked coming when I knew sunrise was getting close. I miss him so fucking much. There are leaves tangled in his long, silvery hair, and I want to reach up and pick them out for him, but I can’t seem to make myself move.
“Shit. Okay, I need to get you inside so I can figure out what’s wrong with you.”
“Sun,” I croak.
“No shit, Sherlock. I’m guessing you’ve already been reminded of that lesson the hard way at least once this morning.” He turns a pointed glare on the burns on my hands and forearms where I used them to block the sunlight from scalding my pretty face.
Fuck, he’s mad. Is it weird that I kind of like that he’s mad? It means he still cares, right?
He tugs his shirt over his head, and even though I might be dying—probably not though—I spare a second to enjoy the view. There are a million things to love about Jareth that are in no way physical, but damn does the man have a body that begs to be worshipped. Massive pecs dusted with silver hair, chiseledabs I’ve drizzled chocolate sauce over and licked clean more than once, and intricate tattoos lining his jacked biceps that glow a faint purple that I’ve only been able to see since I was turned.
Jareth throws his shirt at me, interrupting my lingering stare.
“Use this to cover your face and arms. It might still hurt a little, but we’ll go fast, okay?”
“Fast, sure,” I say, even though I’m not sure I can even stand up.
“Fuck. Okay, I’m going to carry you. Ready?”
I nod and then pull the shirt over my face, tucking my arms inside of it just like he said. The world spins as he lifts me off the ground, and that delicious smell gets even stronger. He’s so warm, and his skin is so, so soft. With the fabric of the shirt between us, I press my face into his chest and inhale deeply. The wet, steady thump of his heart brings my awareness to just how dry my throat feels and makes my stomach cramp painfully. He jostles me so he can open the door to his cottage, and a minute later, I’m set down on something soft—his couch, I think.
“Don’t take the shirt off yet,” he says.
I listen as he moves around the space, and I can hear the sound of windows being shut and curtains being drawn. The mouthwatering scent is still at the forefront of my mind, but the other familiar scents in his house make me ache in a completely different way. The scent of drying herbs and lavender tea remind me of mornings waking up in his bed.
“Okay, it’s safe,” he says, but he doesn’t wait for me to pull the shirt off myself. He tugs it roughly and I look up at him, towering over me with disapproval etched on his face. “What thefuck, Loch?” he asks again.
“Wanted to see you,” I rasp.
Jareth rolls his eyes, but I swear I see something soft in them for just a second first.
“We’re not doing that right now,” he says gruffly. “What happened to you? Why aren’t you healing? Did someone poison you? Did you drink from someone who’d been poisoned? Piss off another mage and get cursed?” He rattles off some possibilities and I shake my head.
I don’t know what happened, but it’s none of those things.
“Haven’t fed,” I try to explain, but his expression gets even darker.
“Dammit, Lochlan,” he shouts. “You wanted to be a vampire so fucking bad, and you can’t be bothered to take care of yourself?” He shakes his head and crouches next to the couch. He holds his arm out in front of me, and I see deep scratches that must have come from the rose bushes oozing crimson blood. My mouth waters and my stomach cramps again.That’swhat the delicious smell is. “Drink.”
I shake my head.
“I’ve never met anyone more stubborn than you,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pocketknife he always carries with him. I asked him why once and he told me that sometimes you need to do a blood ritual in a pinch and you should always be prepared. He thought it was funny how green I turned at the mention of blood, and I didn’t ask any follow-up questions because I honestly thought I might puke if I had to imagine him cutting himself open to do some kind of magic spell.
