Chapter 107 Fragile Moments
I held my bare wrist out to him, hovering it inches from his mouth.
"I said no," he growled, turning his face away. The revulsion radiating through the bond was staggering. He wasn't disgusted by me; he was disgusted by himself. "I am a starving feral right now, Nerissa. If I taste your blood straight from the vein, I won't be able to stop. I will drain you."
"I trust you," I said.
"I don't trust me!" he roared, the sudden volume making him cough violently. He brought his heavy hand up, pushing my wrist away. His fingers were freezing. "You saw the beast in the arena. That is what I am without the Emperor’s leash. I am a monster that feeds on the living. Put your arm away."
I stared at the side of his face. I felt the absolute, bone-deep terror in his mind. He was terrified of hurting me. He had spent three centuries guarding my bloodline from the shadows, and the thought of sinking his fangs into my flesh violated every oath he had ever sworn to himself.
"Look at me," I commanded softly.
He didn't move.
I reached out, burying my fingers in his soft, tangled silver hair, and forced his head to turn back toward me. I didn't use magic. I used the sheer, unyielding weight of my own determination.
"You are going to drink," I told him, looking deep into his bloodshot sapphire eyes. "Because if you die on this bed, I will walk out that door and I will sing until this entire city is buried in ash. Do you understand me? I will rot the world to the ground. So if you want to save the Emperor’s precious Citadel, you will open your mouth."
He stared at me, the breath catching in his throat. He felt the absolute, terrifying truth of my words through the tether. I wasn't bluffing. I had nothing left to lose but him.
His eyes dropped to my exposed wrist. I could see the battle raging behind his irises. The dark, primal hunger of a starving vampire fighting against the iron will of the man I loved.
Slowly, his jaw unclenched.
"If I take too much," he whispered, his voice trembling, "push me away."
"I won't have to."
I moved my arm closer. I pressed the inside of my wrist directly against his pale lips.
He let out a ragged, shuddering sigh. His hands came up, weak and shaking, his large fingers wrapping gently around my forearm to hold me in place. I felt the soft, cold brush of his lips against my pulse point.
Then, the sharp, stinging prick of his fangs breaking the skin.
I gasped, my back arching slightly. It hurt, a sudden, burning pinch, but the pain was instantly washed away by a rush of profound, overwhelming euphoria that crashed through the blood-bond.
The moment my crimson blood hit his tongue, the tether between our minds exploded.
It was like standing in the center of a hurricane. I felt his sheer, unadulterated relief. The blood of the First King was a liquid fire, burning away the decay, knitting the torn muscle and shattered bone back together with terrifying speed. I felt his strength returning, a dark, heavy power rushing back into his veins.
But I also felt his hunger.
It was a vast, bottomless void. For the first few seconds, it terrified me. The instinct of the predator was blinding, an ancient urge to consume everything in its path. His grip on my arm tightened, his jaw working as he drew the blood from my vein.
Klaus, I pushed the thought through the noise, wrapping my free hand around the back of his neck, anchoring him. I am here. It is just me.
I felt him flinch. The monster retreated, slamming up against the iron wall of his own willpower. He stopped pulling. He didn't release his bite, but the frantic, starving draw slowed into a gentle, rhythmic pulse.
He was drinking my life, and he was treating it like a sacrament.
The intimacy of it was devastating. I could feel the exact shape of his love for me. He loved me more than he loved his own existence. He loved me more than the ocean.
I let my eyes drift shut, my breathing syncing perfectly with his. There was only the heat of his mouth, the steady thrum of the bond, and the slow return of his immortal strength.
A few moments later, he pulled back.
His fangs slipped from my skin with a soft, wet sound. He didn't let go of my arm. He pressed his lips over the two small puncture wounds, letting his own saliva seal the bleeding.
He opened his eyes.
The grey haze was entirely gone. His sapphire eyes burned with a lethal, terrifying clarity. The dark circles under his eyes had vanished. The skin of his face was no longer the color of ash; it was the flawless, pale ivory of a fully healed vampire lord.
I looked down at his chest.
The four deep ravines on his side had closed, leaving behind thick, raised silver scars that stood out starkly against his pale skin. Over his heart, the black veins of the curse still sat dormant, a permanent, bruising reminder of my family's sin, but the violent, pulsing rot was entirely suppressed.
He was whole.
Klaus released my arm. He sat up. The movement was fluid, effortless, devoid of the agonizing tremors that had plagued him minutes ago.
He looked down at me, kneeling on the mattress in my ruined, blood-stained dress. The heavy iron cuff on his right wrist clinked as he reached out, gently wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
"You are reckless," he murmured. His voice was no longer a gravelly rasp. It was a deep, resonant rumble that vibrated through my bones.
"I am alive," I answered, leaning into his touch.
Before he could reply, the silence of the suite was shattered.
It wasn't a knock. It was the heavy, synchronized thud of iron-shod boots hitting the stone corridor outside. Not two guards. Not four. It sounded like an entire legion coming to a halt.
The heavy iron handle of the door began to turn.
The sanctuary was over.
Klaus didn't panic. The fear that had consumed him when he was weak was gone. He stood up from the bed, his broad shoulders blocking the weak morning light. He looked down at his bare, scarred chest, and then at the locked door.
He reached out, his hand closing over the heavy silver dagger on the wooden table.
"Stay behind me," he ordered softly.