The Midnight Feast

Chapter 4: Broken Oaths

Camilla squeezed her eyes shut as Julian’s ice-cold hands slid lower, tracing the trembling line of her stomach before firmly gripping her hips. Her back was pressed flush against his rigid chest, and every place their skin met felt like an electric shock. She was a weapon of the Order, trained to be numb, trained to kill. But under Julian's touch, she was nothing but a mess of raw, chaotic desire.

"Say it," Julian whispered again, his voice a dark, velvet purr that vibrated against her bare shoulder. His lips brushed the column of her neck, hovering just millimeters away from the pulse point that hammered frantically beneath her skin. "Tell me why you ran through the rain to my door, Camilla."

"I need..." She choked on her own breath, her fingers clawing into his solid forearms. The crimson fever inside her veins was screaming, demanding the only medicine that could quench it. She hated her weakness, but the dark romance of his dominance was intoxicating. "I need you to make it stop. Please. Bite me."

A low, deeply satisfied growl rumbled in Julian’s chest. In a single, fluid movement, he spun her around and lifted her, tossing her onto the mattress of the massive bed. Camilla scrambled backward against the headboard, her dark hair splayed across the white pillows, her chest heaving as Julian crawled over her like a shadow blocking out the moon.

He pinned her wrists beside her head, his heavy body locking her thighs in place. Camilla looked up into his face, her breath catching. Julian’s aristocratic features had sharpened; his cheekbones looked more pronounced, his lips parted slightly to reveal the deadly, gleaming white of his extended fangs. His eyes weren't black anymore—they burned with a brilliant, predatory crimson.

"You are a terrible hunter, my sweet girl," Julian murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over her inner wrist, where her pulse was jumping erratically. "But you make an exquisite captive."

"I'm not your captive," she gasped out, tilting her chin up in a final, desperate flash of defiance.

"Aren't you?" Julian smiled, a lethal, breathtaking expression. He released her wrists, knowing she wouldn't run, and slid his hands into her hair, tilting her head back to fully expose the long, elegant line of her throat.

He didn't rush. He let the tips of his fangs drag lightly over her skin, teasing her, making her shiver and arch her back in agonizing anticipation. Camilla whimpered, her hands flying up to grip his shoulders, her fingernails digging deep into his dark coat. She was begging for the strike, entirely undone by the dangerous chemistry between them.

"Yield to me, Camilla," he commanded softly.

"I yield," she whispered, breaking her sacred oath to the Order with two short words.

Julian drove his fangs deep into her neck.

Camilla gasped, her body stiffening for a fraction of a second as the sharp sting of the bite registered. But immediately after, a wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy washed over her. Julian’s venom flooded her nervous system like a heavy, golden narcotic, erasing the painful fever and replacing it with a thick, paralyzing bliss.

She let out a long, shattered moan, her legs curling around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer as he began to drink. Julian drank with a slow, possessive rhythm, his large hand sliding down her thigh, lifting her leg higher to deepen the embrace. The contrast between his absolute coldness and her burning, frantic vitality was driving them both past the point of sanity. She was giving him life, and he was giving her a dark, addictive pleasure that no human man could ever replicate.

They were completely lost in the crimson bond, tangled in the sheets, on the absolute verge of crossing the point of no return.

BZZZZZZT.

A harsh, mechanical static suddenly shattered the silence of the room.

Julian’s movements froze instantly. His fangs remained embedded in her neck, his body rigid as stone.

“Squad Alpha, this is Marcus. We have bypassed the hotel’s rear security. Moving toward the catacomb entrance via the basement laundry chutes. Camilla, what is your status? Report immediately.”

The voice was muffled, coming directly from the pocket of Camilla’s wet leather jacket that lay discarded on the floor near the bed.

The intoxicating fog in Camilla’s mind vanished in a split second, replaced by a cold, sickening dread. Her eyes snapped open, meeting Julian’s crimson gaze just inches above her face. He slowly pulled his fangs from her neck, a single drop of her dark, sweet blood glistening on his lower lip.

The low rumble that came from his throat wasn't sensual anymore. It was the sound of a monster realizing its territory had been breached.

“Camilla, do you copy? Report status or we initiate full tactical breach of the entire sector.” The radio buzzed again, Marcus’s voice tighter, more demanding.

Julian stood up from the bed, his dark silhouette towering over her as the crimson in his eyes flared with a lethal, terrifying light. He looked down at Camilla, his face a mask of cold, dangerous calculation.

Her squad was downstairs. They were here to kill him. And she was lying in his bed, covered in his bite marks, trapped between her duty and her monster.