Page 27 of The Kill

I stop, teeth clenched and eyes closed, rage coursing through my veins like lava. “Let me go, Tyson.”

Still standing in my way, he reaches out to tip my chin up gently, making me look at him in those gorgeous eyes – so, I slam mine shut.

“Mandy, we need to talk about this. You don’t understand.”

Smug, condescending bastard. I know enough to know that no man who has found his fated mate goes to another woman for anything even remotely sexual. His thumb caresses my cheek.

“Don’t touch me! I mean it.”

My wolf is beyond irrational at this point, and wielding the primitive urge to bite the hand currently moving down my neck, caressing my skin. I growl, but he ignores me, rubbing his thumb over my carotid in a way that annoyingly makes my legs feel weak.

Did he touch her with those hands? Did he feel her pulse right before he bit her?

“I said, don’t touch me.”

My knee meets his crown jewels, and Tyson crumples before me.

He rolls onto his side, hands cupping his balls, red-faced and gasping for breath. I lean over him, jabbing a finger in his direction and giving him a hard smack in the chest.

“I understand plenty! Just not why you dragged me here if all you wanted to do was go off and feed from other women! If you choose not to tell me how this all works, or you want to keep getting your blood from Anya, go right ahead! But don’t expect me to sit around waiting for you while you bite other women and get off on it!”

Tyson coughs and grunts, clambering to his hands and knees.

“I don’t feed from Anya. She sells blood. In a bar.”

My brain takes a moment to process that. No biting. No orgasms. Just blood in a glass.

Oh. Oh no.

“Oh, well that’s different.” Shit. “I’m so sorry!”

As I stoop down, grabbing Tyson under one armpit and attempting to haul him to his feet, a realisation hits me like a ton of bricks. The true reason I’m feeling so upset is that someone else is meeting his needs when he should be able to get what he wants from me. And only me.

“I shouldn’t have done that but you should have told me, Tyson. How would you like it if I ran off without telling you what was going on and had my unfulfilled needs met by another male?”

He did leave me high and not so dry. How would he like it if the tables were turned?

Tyson curses as he steadies himself, concentrating on drawing in deep breaths. With one hand on his thigh, fingers splayed wide, he looks up at me from under his dark, messy hair, absolutely furious, and I take a step back.

“You are here because you are my mate. MINE!” His words are low and deadly, as he gets one foot and then the other underneath him, and stands to his full height. “My fucking mate!” he shouts, a vein in his forehead prominent as his blood pressure skyrockets.

Possessiveness shoots across our tenuous bond and nearly knocks me on my ass. Stalking closer, he scans me over, and scents the air, as if checking whether I was in fact out last night with another man. The cheek of him.

“You don’t need to sniff me. My unmet needs were ones I could take care of myself.” I try to sound bolder than I feel as he takes another step, the gap between us that seemed big a few seconds ago, suddenly eroded to nothing by his long strides. “But you get my point.”

I did no such thing, merely crawled into bed feeling sorry for myself, but he didn't need to know that I was sad and lonely. Better he thinks I was having a great time without him.

Defiant, I stare him down as he prowls closer, lust and jealousy blazing in his eyes as he stares at my hands.

“You thought I cheated on you, mate?” He visibly seethes at the accusation, and I swallow hard, shuffling back as a wall of his emotions hits me, drowning out the guilt I feel for kneeing him in the balls.

“As good as,” I mumble, staring transfixed as he takes my right hand gently, hesitating for a second to see if I’m going to hurt him again. Tyson then lifts it to his mouth and sucks my index finger gently and rhythmically, his deft tongue swirling around, tasting for my juices.

“Never, ever, would I do anything to betray you.”

He lowers my hand and steps nearer, burying his head in the crook and my neck, inhaling deeply. When he doesn’t pick up any other scents, he growls in approval, his wolf needing to prove for himself that I was just winding him up.

“You left me,” I spit out weakly, “and went to someone else for what you needed. Something vampires find sexual.” My insides twist as I force the words out, unable to disguise the anguish in my voice. I’m angry at him, yes, but, more than that, I’m devastated, in a way that I can’t comprehend being about a virtual stranger.

---