Black Blood (Series of Blood Book 4) Emma Hamm (popular novels txt) 📖

about her question. His hands flexed against her hips, fingers searching for ticklish areas where he might once more gain the advantage. Lydia did not let him find any. She locked her hands behind the back of his neck and gave him a forceful shake.

He burst into laughter. “All right, I admit. I might use sexual appeal to my advantage now and then.”

“Sexual appeal?” Lydia snorted. “You’re giving yourself far too much credit, my phantom.”

“I’m wounded!”

He slid her forward, stepping into the vacant space between her legs. One of his hands slid down her spine while the other tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Come out with me tonight.”

“Out?” She raised an eyebrow. “Were you serious about letting me go?”

“Why is that so surprising?”

“You haven’t let me out of this house for hundreds of years, Pitch.”

“Has it been that long?”

He knew exactly how long it had been, she was certain of it. Lydia had fairly counted the hours she had been entombed in this gothic abode. The idea of leaving, of getting a chance to see the world again, was both overwhelming and exciting.

Her stomach clenched. Her fingers curled against his neck. But she wouldn’t allow anxiety to stop her from experiencing the world once more.

“Why do you want me there?”

“I want you to see her. I want you to see the beginning of what you set into motion thousands of years ago. And I want you to see Malachi.”

“Malachi? That’s who you want me to see?”

“I think it’s important.”

“Explain.”

The outside world was intimidating, frightening even. She hadn’t even liked to go out when she was a Red Blood. Crowds and so many people had always made her breath catch and her palms sweaty. There were too many uncontrollable things in crowds.

Someone could slip a drug into her drink. She could go to the bathroom and be kidnapped on her way back out. Even something as simple as people laughing at her tripping on her own feet made her want to vomit.

None of these concerns felt as scary as before. Pitch’s shadows were already enveloping her, smoothing along her skin in a soothing caress. He would never let her feel as though she were the odd person out. He would never let her forget she was a Goddess in his eyes.

He leaned forward, pressing his nose into the base of her throat and inhaling deeply. “I can’t explain it, Lydia. There’s something inside my head saying it’s important you see him. You really see him.”

“We already know he’s not the mastermind behind all this madness. Do you think seeing him will trigger some kind of vision?”

“I don’t think you need a trigger. I think you just need time to unravel all the tangled webs of time rattling around in your head.”

“Then why?”

Pitch tightened his arms, pulling her flush against his chest. “I wish I knew.”

He was trembling, and Lydia understood why. Her fingers danced over his shoulder blades as she mused how the times had changed. He was willingly putting her in harm’s way because he had a feeling it was important.

Every fiber of his body must be shouting to not let her do this. He had always wanted to keep her locked away in her room, a pretty bauble only he could play with. Lydia had seen this in this Past, in this Present they shared with each other, and she knew she would forever deal with it in their Future.

She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“I will be fine,” she whispered against his shoulder. “You won’t let anything happen.”

“Never.”

Relief made her knees weak and her mind thankful she was sitting down. She had never had anyone looking out for her. Not like this. Lydia was pleased she could experience this kind of loyalty before she died.

“Am I going in my nightgown?” she finally asked. “Or did you know what I should look like on this adventure?”

He pulled back, the wicked grin returning. “I have the perfect dress for you.”

Chapter 13

“Do I want to know where you got this?” she asked as she smoothed her hands down the white silk.

“Probably not,” Pitch called out from the bathroom.

Lydia knew it was a beautiful dress, even though she couldn’t see it. The fabric slid against her skin like water rippling down a smooth stone. Enchantments ran in electrical currents through her vision, the magic looking like veins carrying life-giving substance from her neck to her fingertips. It did not billow around her legs, but molded to her natural curves.

She had gained a little weight, she noticed with pleasure. For as long as she could remember, she had been painfully thin. Multiple trips to doctors, too many allergies, and a limited diet had made it difficult to keep any kind of form.

But the body beneath her hands was not a twig. She had filled in, even in excess on her thighs and behind.

“What are you thinking?” Pitch asked. His hands framed hers, following the path she traveled.

“You are very comfortable touching me, all of a sudden,” she murmured.

“We’re talking about you, not me.”

“I was thinking how pleased I am to have a little meat on my bones.”

“Meat?” He squeezed her hips. “That’s a terrible name for it.”

“You can call it whatever you’d like.”

“Good.” He stepped away and circled her like a vulture does its prey. “You look stunning.”

“Do I?”

“Almost like a professional made that dress to fit your measurements exactly.”

“Did they?”

“I’ll never tell.” He reached a hand out for her to take, the nebulas in his fingers dancing.

“What are you wearing?”

“Red shirt. Black pants. What else would I wear, darling?”

When he reeled her in against his chest, Lydia’s palms met warm skin. She feathered her fingers from his warm collarbone and down the smooth planes of his chest. “Just a red shirt?”

“I’m not a bland man, Lydia. Have a little faith.”

He had dressed her all in white, virginal, innocent. Yet for himself, he dressed in blood and darkness. She had hoped to break him of these fanciful opinions of