Blood Dolls by Sophie Stern Page B

for her, she knew.
    This was for Samuel.
    Fuck, she loved him more than she should. She shouldn’t be in love with a creature like him, shouldn’t have consented to being his, but she was and she had. She loved him.
    She wasn’t sure how vampire ceremonies worked when it came to taking a mate. It happened so rarely that she hadn’t met anyone who knew anything about the process. Still, she was sure this was part of it. He was asking her to publicly submit to him, to show her desire and adoration in this most obvious of ways, and she could do that.
    If it would make him happy, she could do anything.
    Suddenly, the touching stopped. She didn’t open her eyes. She stayed put. Maybe someone else would touch her, or maybe no one would, but this was where she belonged now. Until Samuel told her otherwise, until he urged her to move, she would stay.
    She would stay for him.
    She felt herself being lifted into two strong, warm arms. Still, she didn’t move. Her eyes were closed: her body relaxed. She knew it was Samuel by his scent, but he didn’t speak to her. He just carried her away from the party, away from the noise, away from the guests.
    “No one bit me,” she whispered.
    “Is that so?”
    “Yes. No one drank from me. All those people touched me, but no one drank from me.”
    “You’re going to be my mate, Celia. No one is allowed to drink from you but me.”
    “You’re going to do it now, then, are you?”
    “I am.”
    “I’m scared, Samuel. It’s going to hurt.”
    “And then it’s going to feel amazing.”
    He stopped walking, but didn’t set her down yet. They were close now. This was really going to happen. She heard a door open, but still couldn’t move. Celia snuggled closer to Samuel as he walked into the room and shut the door behind them.
    They were alone now. They were alone and he was going to take her. Samuel laid her across the bed and finally, Celia opened her eyes and just looked at him. He was beside her on the bed. He started tracing her cheek with his fingers.
    Samuel: with his long blonde hair and his fierce eyes.
    Samuel: with his sweet juxtaposition of kind and evil.
    Samuel: hers forevermore.
    “There was one before you,” Samuel said.
    “But she died,” Celia whispered. She knew he had lost someone. Samuel carried his wounds close to his heart, but his scars were deep and they were still painful.
    “I tried to turn her. I tried to turn her and she died. It broke me, Celia.”
    “I know.”
    “You healed me.”
    “I know.”
    “You might die,” he said. He didn’t offer not to do it. He was just stating facts now, and Celia wasn’t interested in facts.
    “I want this. It doesn’t matter what happens. This is where I need to be, Samuel. I need to be with you.”
    He stood up then and took off his mask. His shoes were quickly kicked aside. Samuel looked at Celia as he began to undress, watching her. She felt like he could see her, could see right through her. She felt like there was nothing she could do but feel alive in that moment. She had nothing to hide: nowhere to go. She was his.
    Samuel slowly stripped off his clothes. One-by-one, piece-by-piece, everything came off. Celia watched as he slid off his jacket. Then he unbuttoned the white shirt and dropped it to the floor. She stared at his chest as he began to unzip his pants. Her eyes roamed, settling on his hands as he pushed them down to his ankles, then kicked them aside. When he was naked, he climbed back into the bed with her and wrapped his arms around her.
    “Kiss me,” his voice was soft. She almost couldn’t hear it, but she moved slowly and pressed her mouth to his. The tender touch quickly morphed into something else, something dark. All the arousal that had been at bay suddenly came rushing back. A hundred hands had touched her and now, she felt every stroke, every scratch, every trace.
    She was wet and awake and needy.
    “Please,” she begged him, and he seemed to know what that meant, even though