Thrall (A Vampire Romance) by Abigail Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

the life.”
    He sank his teeth into his own flesh and bit, opening up a horrid, pale pinkish wound. His blood was dark, thick, like it had time to set up or dry out. It oozed down his arm and I was dying and he held it to his mouth and I watched his throat bob as he drew his own blood from the wound and snapped back down.
    I tried to turn away. I tried to die but he wouldn’t let me. He pushed his lips to mine and his cold tongue forced my lips open and then the blood came, cold and hot, mine mingled with his, and he mashed his lips to mine until, on pure instinct, I swallowed.
    A chunk of something slid down my throat. I felt it slip through my wound. It was moving inside me, ice cold, like I’d bitten off a squirmy, rubbery sliver of a glacier and gulped it down. It fluttered in my chest, hard and scratchy and I could hear it, like a moth caught between glass and a door, fluttering.
    He ran his hand down my cheek as gentle as a lover, smearing my skin with cold blood.
    “Mine .”

Chapter Five

    I’m dimly aware that I’m screaming and that powerful arms have locked around me, trapping my hands to my chest.
    “Christine, it’s over.”
    “It’s not over. It’s never over.”
    I can’t stop screaming, and sobbing. I feel tracks on my cheeks, feather light scratches, and when I touch my fingers to my skin they come away pink. I’m weeping blood. I pinch my eyes shut and will it to stop but my eyes are burning. It was like I was really there. It’s dark in the room now but he has the fire going, crackling and throwing long shadows across the carpet. We’re on the bed. I’m in his lap.
    He’s very warm, and strong. Too strong.
    Too strong to be human.
    “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. No one can get you here.”
    “No one but you,” I push him away and slide away on the bed. “Don’t touch me like that again.”
    It’s hard to see his face in the dark, but easy to see his expression crumple. He stands up and goes back to his chair, flops down, and pulls that notebook onto his lap. I sit on the bed in a twisted tangle of quilts and sheets, swiping at my face and leaving long red tracks on my forearms. He tosses me a damp towel and I take it, and clean myself off. The white terrycloth turns pink before I finish with it and throw it on the floor.
    “What happened to you is not your fault. There was no way you could have stopped him.”
    I can’t look at him. I stare down at my feet and wiggle my toes inside the scuffed toe-caps of my sneakers.
    “That’s easy for you to say.”
    “No, it’s not. I understand how you feel.”
    “You don’t understand shit . You don’t know what’s it’s like to be pinned down and… and I begged him to stop and he did it anyway. He thought it was funny. ”
    My head droops and I can barely choke the words out. I don’t even know why I’m telling him. I don’t owe this son of a bitch an explanation.
    “He made me like him.”
    “That’s not true.”
    I look over and glare. “How do you know? Maybe I enjoy hurting people. Maybe I like it.”
    “I already know you don’t.”
    “You’re right,” I shout, my voice tightening. “You’re right, I don’t. I hate it. Drinking blood makes me want to puke. I can’t stand it. Every time I do it, I’m like him. It’s like that night over and over again. He didn’t violate me once, it happens every time I have to feed. He… he made me this .”
    He closes the book.
    “I promised if you answered my questions I’d answer you yours. I can tell you what you are.”
    I rest my chin on my knees. “Will it help me stop?”
    “No.”
    “Then I don’t care.”
    “You are nosferatu . The undead.”
    “I knew that already.” I can’t help but laugh. “I’m a vampire.”
    “You think that’s funny?”
    “Vampires aren’t real.”
    He doesn’t get the joke. He just slumps in his seat. “There are seven species of hemophagic theriomorphs.”
    “Hemowhatic what?”
    “Blood drinking supernatural