Grave Sight | A Reverse Harem Romance

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕠

My ass hurt. I'd been thrown on the ground so many times that I lost count. I was sweating, which was normally difficult to accomplish since my body temperature was naturally so low.

I ultimately just fell onto my back and closed my eyes, exhausted and done for the day. Sure, I learned some things, but I was still new at fighting and Kieran wasn't letting me off easily.

He didn't hurt me at all. The most he did was throw me to the floor, but he always protected my head. My ass, however, he let hit the floor so many times that I questioned whether that was a kink of his.

I heard him sit down beside me, and I opened one eye. "I'm not doing it anymore."

He laughed. "I don't expect any more for tonight. You did well. You have a talent that is rare in a lot of people."

"A talent of bruising my ass," I joked.

"No." He was smiling. "A talent to watch someone do something, and repeat it perfectly."

There were times I watched him do something to turn around and repeat it, but I didn't think I was close to perfecting it. I felt like I was a toddler trying to mimick an adult who had far longer to practice than I did.

"Can I ask you something?" I sat up.

"Anything." He stretched one of his legs out beside mine, and I was once again in awe of how tall he truly was.

"How old are you?" It might have been rude - heck, was definitely rude. I knew better than to ask a vampire how old they were.

He was silent for a moment. "If I tell you, do I get something in return?"

That should have been a red flag, because his answer could have been so simple and his request so complex. If he was only one hundred, any request would be eye-roll worthy. On the other hand, if I knew he lived for a few hundred years, that'd be interesting enough to give him something.

"I'm not joining your clan," I said. That was the one thing - or one of the things - that was a hard no.

When Mateo brought up my joining the clan, it would be a lie if I said that my hackles didn't rise slightly. It meant he seriously considered asking, at least at one point.

"My answer isn't worth your life," he said. "So that's not what I'd request."

"Then?" I wanted to know what I was agreeing to.

"I want to drink your blood again." It was stated casually, like he was talking about the weather. "I won't mark you. I just want to taste you."

He said his answer wasn't worth my life, but his answer was worth a few swallows of my blood. The question was...did I really want to know badly enough that I'd put myself in a position where he could overtake me completely? Did I trust him enough to stop when I told him to, or to stop when he knew he should, if I got too lost in whatever pleasure his bite may cause?

He didn't look like he would push the request, so long as I didn't push mine.

I nodded slowly.

"I was born in 1271," he said calmly, like he didn't just admit to being over seven hundred years old.

"Yeah," I said, my words spilling out before I could think through them, "I think you're a tad too old for me."

He raised an eyebrow and grabbed me around the waist before pulling me up onto his lap. He nuzzled his nose against my throat and hummed.

"I died when I was twenty seven," he murmured against my skin. "Have you ever heard of the Battle of Falkirk?"

I hadn't, because the history teachers I had never went that far back. It didn't sound familiar to me in the slightest.

"It took place on July 22, 1298," he continued when I didn't answer. "It was one of the first battles in the war for Scottish independence. Stupid me moved and joined the army, and that was the first and only battle I ever fought."

When I didn't press for more, even though I wanted to, he ran his tongue up my throat. I had so many more questions to ask, but I was afraid that if I pressed too hard, he'd expect more than what we agreed upon. So I stored those questions in the back of my mind for another day, when he seemed to be in a good enough mood to just tell me and not expect anything in return.

His teeth sunk into my skin and I flinched. The sudden jolt of pleasure shocked me, and my hands flew up to hold onto his shoulders as he took his first swallow.

A low, satisfied groan vibrated against my throat. His hands slid around my body and he pulled me harder against him.

My eyes rolled back and my head fell forward to rest on his shoulder as he took another swallow. Each pull he took sent electric shocks to my lower abdomen until a familiar heat began to twist inside of me.

"W-Wait," I whispered. "Kieran, I'm-"

One of his hands came between us and he took a breast in his grasp, squeezing just enough to make that heat burst into flames inside of me. He massaged my breast as he continued to drink my blood.

He pulled away, licking the wound enough to close it, before he pushed his blood-coated lips against mine. I could taste my blood on his tongue, so oddly sweet against the roughness of his kiss.

"You're shaking," he murmured. He ran his tongue over my bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and pulled gently.

His violet eyes raised and met mine, which were glowing from drinking my blood.

I was shaking, he was right. It almost felt like I was the one who drank his blood, versus the other way around. His bite did the same thing to me as Lucian's pheromones did, and I knew I couldn't hide behind ignorance anymore.

I wanted Lucian the same way I wanted Kieran, and the same way I was starting to want Kyler.

That wasn't good.