Forbidden (The Preternaturals) by Zoe Winters

tongue
over his bite marks to seal and help heal them, even though he knew
she must have her own healing abilities.
    She sat quiet and still, her breath moving in and out of her like a
prayer. The back of her dress seemed to have a million buttons from
just below the middle of her back and going the rest of the way down.
He started to unbutton them.
    “W-what are you doing?”
    “Whatever I want.”
    Her breath caught in her throat, and she nodded. When he’d worked
through all the buttons, he pushed the dress down around her waist.
It was exactly as he’d thought when he’d held her against him. A
corset. The back was lower, but he hadn’t been wrong when his
fingers had pressed against the hard boning. Why did she wear them?
Perhaps his little angel liked pain.
    Hadrian still remembered the black corset underneath the dress she’d worn
the night she’d fucked him on the altar and turned him. That night
she’d seemed wanton and worldly. Now she seemed somehow innocent,
as if none of that had ever happened.
    “How long has it been?”
    A slow, shuddering breath was the only response. He wondered if she
knew what he was asking.
    An eternity later, she answered. “You were the last time.”
    “But that’s… six decades.”
    She shrugged, her gaze fixed on a marble St. Francis statue in the
corner. “We aren’t allowed… we don’t. Even what we just did…
it’s an abomination. If they ever found out that I…”
    “Who will tell them?”
    She gasped when he cinched the corset tighter and bit her again. He drank
less this time, having already been satisfied by the first feeding.
When he withdrew his fangs and sealed the wound, he carefully
buttoned her dress and nudged her off his lap. He could neither bring
himself to be particularly cruel or kind at the moment, still
processing the experience of her blood and the revelation that no one
else had taken her since that night.
    ***
    Angeline felt his eyes on her. She should leave. It had taken everything in
her not to flee when he’d called her little angel . It was
what Linus had called her. The endearment had always been followed by
something terrible when it had come from the mouth of her sire.
    She’d had to mentally remind herself that she’d watched Hadrian for
years. She knew him. He wasn’t Linus. A pet name wouldn’t
change that. And further, she’d seen plenty of reasons over the
years to trust Hadrian. Most evil acts for him occurred in a gray
area in service to a greater good.
    She wandered the basement. The decor was mostly modern. Sharp lines and
hard planes. Cold marble statues watching her and documenting all her
sins. Only a little comfort or warmth here or there… a comfy
leather chair, a rug, a large, ornate bed with sheer black curtains
around it. Lots of white candles and Gothic candle stands.
    Everything was black and gray and white with a few flourishes of gold here and
there. The only thing that didn’t fit the bland color scheme was a
wardrobe and trunk in the corner made from rich dark oak. The other
corner had racks and racks of wine.
    A familiar piece of fabric peeked from behind the trunk. It was the bag
she’d left behind years ago. She tensed, afraid the rosary would
burn when her fingers brushed over the cross, but of course it
didn’t. Instead, when she held it, she felt herself glow.
    “You kept this?”
    She jumped when his arms closed around her waist. He’d moved across the
room so quickly and quietly she hadn’t noticed him behind her.
    “I never bothered throwing it out. It’s not as if I live here all the
time.”
    She put the rosary and drawing back into the bag and placed it on the
trunk. It felt wrong to keep it. It only reminded her of things she
wanted to forget.
    “Do you want absolution, Angeline?”
    “I know that you’ll never…”
    “Answer me.”
    “You know I do.”
    “Even if the penance is difficult?”
    Angeline nodded. He released her and went back to the chair, and she could
finally