DOFAB#3

Chapter Ten

~ TRISTAN ~

The tang of cinnamon lies on my tongue, decadent and rich. It's pungent as it smolders, the vapors fueling an insatiable thrage.

Endatura Sani. Her life force beckons.

My one strike left says I can't afford to obey.

The temple priestess eevie's brows furrow as a shiver decorates her arm. We're tied together. My blood pumping into her through an IV transfusion hooked directly into my vein. A mound of blankets covers Kinley in the infirmary bed she lies, unaware a beast is sitting next to her, watching...waiting...

It's strange how her life force lacks the typical eevie pick-your-color-of-the-rainbow glow. That usually indicates a weak or close to expiring eevie. This one bled as she were mortal despite the immortality that clings to her. It's what makes her blood so potently delicious. An eevie that's turned mortal from being drain would never set my fangs on edge the way this one does. It's painfully addicting. This need she implants almost more than I can take as it feasts on me like the dead trapped in the hellmouth with me. It starts with a nibble. Before you know it, your being consumed, dragged down into red sands as you're picked apart, having to fight your way back to the surface. The only weapon insight the femur from your gnawed-off leg.

A twitch of Kinley's foot moves the blanket. Her eyes remain closed, fluttering beneath her lids as if she's dreaming. I lean over her, snuffing out the fluorescent lights. Up close, Kinley's brown curls take on a golden hue, her inner light seeping through. But it can't survive in my shadow. With me over her, there's no room for light to come between us.

Feathering lashes open. Kinley blinks one, two times before the covers she's swaddled in go flying. She bolts up, scrambling until she hits the wall parallel with my chair. She's trapped on three sides, her escape a narrow opening at the foot of the bed. She'll have to be able to get by me first.

"You," she pants.

"Me," I reply, muscles coiling at the combination of this petrified eevie and her honey spiced life force. Admittedly, it makes me what to do wicked things.

Her gaze moves from me to the ebony-filled line connected to her forearm. She tracks the IV tubing to its attachment to my arm. The tropical storm in her eyes hits landfall.

"You're inside me," she shrieks. "This is more than three drops!"

"Better my blood than my sword."

"Nonononono." She attempts to remove the IV catheter. The second she starts pulling on the 26-gauge needle, she wails and slaps her hand over the IV line that will not be going anywhere. This floralette's pain tolerance is on par with a pansy. "This can't be happening. This isn't happening."

What does this eevie fear more than seeing the beast she thought was still locked up roaming free? Bedding me.

"Who released you? Why are you here? What do you want?" She rapid fires like at any moment her body will betray her and my blood will turn her into a pussycat in heat. You know the ones that yowl and rub themselves against your leg.

"I'm here because I couldn't stay away." I forgo the chair and sit on the edge of the bed. "And, what I want is to stay close to you." I bop her on her pert little nose.

"You nearly killed me, you grubworm." She curls into a tighter ball, making sure all of her is as far away from my touch as possible.

The experiment of the day. I can't defile a temple priestess's soul, supposedly, but how much blood would it take to corrupt this one's fragile flesh?