Thrall of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 4) by Bella Klaus (namjoon book recommendations txt) 📗

Tears rolled down my cheeks. When Valentine’s soul had said similar words, they had been romantic, expressing the depth of his admiration. Now, it sounded like a threat.

His magic tore the covers off the bed, fashioning them into ropes. My breath hitched as my mind conjured up a dozen ways for me to die. Suffocation, exsanguination… eventual starvation. It was hard to tell when I wasn’t sure how much control Kresnik exercised over Valentine.

“This is for your own safety, Innamorata,” he murmured so quietly into my ear that I thought I’d imagined the words.

My breathing slowed, and I whispered, “What?”

With the softest of touches, his fingertips grazed my skin, sending shivers of arousal down to my core. I squeezed my thighs together, hoping he just intended to put me over his knee for a spanking.

Valentine’s eyes darkened until the red of his irises became a thin ring around wide pupils. The tips of his fangs protruded from his lips, and he lowered his gaze down my naked body.

I swallowed hard, trying to think of a way to reason with Valentine. “You can’t keep me cooped up in this room, and if I’d known the sound healing would—”

Valentine lurched forward and plunged his fangs into my neck, and I opened my mouth in a silent scream.

As I prepared my mind for death, cold liquid seeped through my veins and spread across my skull. My eyes bulged. Keeping me under the influence of thrall hadn’t worked the first time. Why did Valentine think it would work now? As the substance worked its way through my system, all the tension around my muscles loosened, and euphoria spread across my chest.

My knees collapsed, but Valentine caught me with an arm around my back, and slid me into the warmth of the bed.

“This time,” he snarled, “when I order you to stay in this room, do not leave.”

My lips parted, and I exhaled a long breath. Anything I wanted to say got lost in the sensation of my soul rising to the canopy of the four-poster. As numbness spread across my limbs, Valentine adjusted the covers around my neck, wrapping me in a cocoon of blankets.

I don’t know how much time passed before I resurfaced, but when I tried to open my eyes, a familiar male voice said, “Dear oh dear, Miss Griffin. You appear to be in a rather sticky situation.”

Chapter Seven

The voice continued drifting in and out of my awareness. Sometimes, it sounded like it came from underwater, other times it was the barest whisper. Even when the words reached my ears with perfect clarity, they slid over my consciousness. Nothing, not even a disembodied voice taunting me about my current state, could penetrate the fog cocooning my consciousness.

My breath came in shallow pants as I placed my palms on the soft-as-clouds mattress and tried to haul myself up. Somehow, it felt like sticking my hands into mist and expecting it to be solid.

Betrayal sliced through my insides like a dagger. Valentine had said he was acting for my safety, but how could he drug me again and leave me alone in this room?

Something was off about him, and I wasn’t just talking about his deference to Kresnik. It was hard to tell if Valentine was hoarding me like he hoarded those men in the basement or genuinely wanted to keep me safe. From the way he had reacted earlier, I would say it was a combination of both.

Soft light streamed through my eyelids, and the crackle of the fireplace reached my ears. I exhaled a long breath through my nostrils and slid my palms over the silk sheets. At least the thrall was easing off a little… for now.

“Miss Griffin?” The voice from before reached me with perfect clarity, as though its owner leaned over the bed and spoke into my ears.

I sent a message to my eye muscles to twitch or open their lids a fraction, but they wouldn’t cooperate. My stomach hardened with the onset of frustration.

The voice huffed. “It’s been an entire day, and this cow is showing no signs of stirring.”

“Shut up,” I slurred.

“So, she’s awake,” he said.

A long breath heaved from my lungs. If I had to lie here semi-comatose, why did it have to be with this incessant chatter? Coral and I had never spoken about the effects of thrall, and I couldn’t remember if she said it brought on hallucinations.

My fingers twitched, and it finally felt like the beginning of normal sensation. Coral once mentioned the time she was high on faerie-synthesized thrall in Logris. It was when a shadow had frightened her into expressing fire. But it had been Kresnik all along, finally deciding she was ready to reap.

“Miss Griffin,” the voice hissed.

“Who is this?” I croaked.

Whatever he said next got drowned out as the thrall took control of my senses and swept me into a landscape of white. It was nothing like the void where Valentine’s soul dwelled, but a sea of clouds that carried my prone body in a cocoon of warmth.

Right now, nothing mattered. Not Kresnik or Valentine or even my impending fate. I guess this was why some people found thrall so addictive. My imaginary arms swept out to my sides, and I let myself glide over the fluffy expanse. Even though I felt no emotional attachment to the problems I left behind, they were still intriguing.

My mind drifted to our encounter with Kresnik. Someone who wanted to defeat the Supernatural Council and take over Great Britain should be busy mobilizing troops, consulting with spies, and planning their first few attacks. So why had he taken time to summon me about my sound healing session?

It had been a harmless attempt to ease their discomfort, yet Kresnik had warned me not to do it again. Kresnik had even made my life here more perilous by ordering the removal of the blood packs. The man wanted me dead, but I couldn’t think straight enough to fathom why.

If my