Bloodspell (The Cruentus Curse, #1)(109)

"We need to leave," he said, trying not to breathe as he pulled her to him.

"Yes," she said, as her legs gave out from beneath her and she grasped his shoulders for support, the room starting to spin. That last spell had been intense despite the amulet's help, and her knees buckled. Christian hooked an arm under her legs, cradling her against his body. She buried her face in the contours of his neck as they made their way out.

"Where are we going?" she said, as they exited to the quiet and deserted street level of the alley.

"We'll go to my apartment. It's near here," he said.

AT CHRISTIAN'S APARTMENT, Victoria felt shattered and confused. Other than a destroyed secret room, there was no visible evidence that any of the events had taken place. Everything seemed entirely too surreal—Gabriel's betrayal, Charla's murder, Enhard's death, and Christian's own possession by her demonic blood.

Surreal was the only word to describe it, and a part of her kept waiting to wake up from what she felt must be an impossible dream. But it wasn't a dream. People had died. She had killed some of them. Even Gabriel was dead. Her blood trilled softly and she shivered, turning toward the only comfort she knew.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked.

"Yes," Christian said, depositing them both on the sofa. "For as long as you need."

Forever, she thought.

Victoria nestled against his side and within minutes, he could hear her deep, even breathing. She was childlike in sleep, barely resembling the fierce fighter she'd been earlier. He frowned at the dark smudges under her eyes and rubbed his thumb across her cheeks as she sighed in her sleep, burrowing deeper into his side.

Memories of the night assaulted him, and Christian's head swam with unwanted images of Enhard as he bit back the hot wave of agony that filled him. He took several steadying breaths, and was unprepared for the sudden potent scent of Victoria's closeness.

It was unexpected. It was intoxicating.

It was torture.

The craving of his body for her blood was not unfamiliar, but what sickened him, was that despite knowing its demonic power, he still wanted it with a fervor that he could barely control. He remembered its thick, rich taste as it had flowed over his tongue and into the back of his throat like an elixir, so pure, that it had healed him in seconds. He had never dreamed of anything like it. Christian sighed wearily. He'd accepted the blood magic into himself knowing that it had been the only way to save Victoria from his brother. But its possession of him had been consummate.

He wondered if he could ever forget it. Or escape it.





WHAT SHOULD HAVE been been a fun and carefree time at year-end seemed forced and empty. The last few weeks had been overwhelming, and busy.

The news had broken across Windsor that Charla and Gabriel had been killed in a terrible hit-and-run accident while they were in New York, and the school had held a service on their behalf. Angie had been inconsolable, and the loss of her brother and her friend, despite their ultimate treachery, had only really hit her when they had all returned to Canville.

Victoria had closeted herself in Christian's house. She couldn't bear to be alone, especially at night when she was assaulted by horrific images of what had happened, and she'd only been able to get through finals with Christian's help. After the dramatic, life-changing events in New York, finishing high school seemed anticlimactic.

Angie's foster parents had let her return to campus despite their adamant wishes for her to remain with them in New York. Angie had told them that she'd called 911 when Gabriel and Charla had been hit while running across the street after a late-night party, but the paramedics had been unable to do anything to save either of them. The deception had been essential to protect not only Victoria's identity, but also those of the vampires. Christian had made a call that same night to recover the bodies from the underground room. It was amazing to see the power of The Council. It had been a tragic but necessary facade, and somehow the police report corroborated Angie's story.

Victoria sighed, curling up on the sofa while Christian lit a fire in the fireplace as the temperature had dipped a bit since earlier in the day. She didn't want to think about what Christian had done to make that happen. It seemed that the supernatural world had its fingers and connections everywhere ... more so than she'd ever imagined. She wondered if she would ever get used to being a part of that world—the world that existed in the shadows on the periphery of human reality. For better or for worse, she was a part of both now. She sighed.

"Are you all right?" Christian asked quietly, joining her. She nodded leaning against him. He inhaled the strawberry smell of her shampoo with the heady scent of her flickering beneath it. His longing for her, and her blood, had only gotten stronger. All he wanted to do was to bury his face in her neck and take and take until he couldn't take any more, even knowing that her blood would consume him, consequences be damned. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Have you talked to Holly?" he asked, resorting to conversation as a suitable distraction.

"Yes, earlier today. I don't know if I ever told you that my grandmother had confided to Holly about us, about me. She knew. But she wasn't prepared for Gabriel. None of us were." Victoria faltered, the sense of betrayal still keen. "She says Leto is doing much better too. I think the magical therapy I did might have actually worked, thanks again to the blood magic," she said. "I think it will take him a while to come to terms with you and me though. Overcoming centuries of hate will take time." She smiled wryly. "Did you talk to Lucian?"