Fated to My Vampire Lord novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: Hunger

The cellar of Crowhurst House was long and cold, with a stone floor and racks of dark glass bottles to the ceiling.

Tiernan stood at the far end with his back to the stairs.

One hand was braced on a rack.

The other hung at his side, and it was dripping.

"Don't come closer," he said, without turning around.

Otis stopped on the bottom step and took off his glasses, which he did when he was frightened.

"He broke a bottle," Otis whispered. "He just squeezed it. I was getting a snack."

"Go upstairs, Otis."

"But..."

"Go, please. Wake the steward if I'm not up in an hour."

Otis went, and the flashlight in my hand shook.

I stood it on a barrel, pointed at the ceiling, and crossed the cellar.

When I stood close enough to touch him I stopped.

His shoulders were rigid, and I could hear that he was breathing in short hard pulls through his nose.

"I told you not to come closer," Tiernan said.

"You did."

"Willa. I am not safe."

"You're bleeding on the floor."

"I have not fed since before the Council. Tonight I should have, and I didn't."

"Why not?"

He turned his head, and I saw his eyes.

They were black all the way through, without a ring of grey left in them.

The blood on his hand was dark and slow.

"Because I did not trust myself to go back out," he said, "after that kiss."

My mouth went dry.

"Let me see your hand."

"No."

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