The Blood Ruby (The Arcane Artifacts #2)

Chapter 21 - Cinnamon

I woke gasping, chest rising and falling in bursts. Light perspiration coated my skin, almost sticky. I ripped my covers back. I'd been dreaming, but not of the witches. It would have been better if I had.

Laurent. Fucking Laurent.

My heart pounded. I rushed to the bathroom, stripping bare, slipping beneath a cold shower. I gasped, letting the cool water rush over my burning skin. It didn't do much. Thirsty, I was so thirsty. I turned off the water and stepped out, dripping as I grabbed a glass and filled it at the sink. I drank and drank until my stomach was full, then braced my hands on the conter, looking at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, and the look in my eyes...

Hunger.

If you wish it, my blood is yours.

"No," I whispered to myself. "No!"

My throat ached. My chest itched. The place between my legs throbbed.

I needed.

"No," I groaned again, eying the shower. My thoughts were disjointed. Scattered. Lacking their usual logic.

The minutes ticked by, punctuated by my heavy breathing. I was fighting a battle, and losing.

I stood up, shoulders pulled tight, lips pressing into a firm line. Laurent Sarkas had taken everything from me. Everything. Perhaps it was time I return the favor.

Searching for a robe, I covered myself and slipped from my room. I found him in his study. His head was fixed on the door as I opened it, like he was expecting me. At the sight of my attire, his eyes widened tracking up and down my body, my hair still dripping. "Miss Shaw—"

"I want it," I said, stepping into the room, closing the door. "Your blood." His lips parted. He gaped at me—surprised, completely caught off guard. I felt a mild sense of satisfaction. "I'll have it now, that is, if you meant what you said earlier."

He huffed, leaning back to run a hand over his moonlight colored hair, tied back at the nape of his neck. I simply stood there.

Slowly, with his eyes locked on me, he stood. "All right." His voice was calm. He walked around the front of his desk and leaned against it, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans, watching me.

I looked him up and down. He looked...different compared to usual. Tired. My brows pulled together. "What...what happened earlier? When Zola called?"

A breath left him. "She checked in on one of our houses—our children."

"Your children—wait, like, you and Zola?" My stomach roiled. Why hadn't I realized? I'd never seen them intimate together.

"Fuck. No. Not like that," he clarified, then sighed. "Vampires do not procreate."

"You don't have sex?"

"Some do. We can't create children in that way. It's not how we sire."

Oh, right. He'd mentioned something earlier, about the way vampires were created. With death and hearts and blood. I didn't really what to think about that at the moment. "What happened to your children?"

"They were...Zola's. They're dead. Most of them, anyway. The newborns. The older ones are missing."

My eyes rounded. "Zola's children?" I whispered. He hummed in confirmation. "But...is she okay?"

"She will be fine."

"But...she lost her children."

"She has more."

"But doesn't she care about them? Love them? They're her children."

"Vampires do not love, Miss Shaw. We do not feel. We do not have the capacity for such things. We are empty. Creatures with instincts and cravings." He said this without a shred of emotion, and it sounded so very rehearsed.