Page 13 of Beautiful Heart

He forced himself to go easy, to ease his fangs through her skin until he reached and punctured her vein. He drank slowly from her, until he felt their hearts, souls, and minds mingle, bringing them together as mates.

Once he had drunk enough to bind them together forever, he licked the holes closed. Lifting his wrist to his own mouth, Livingston bit through the flesh. When his blood flowed freely, he held it against her lips so the blood dripped onto her tongue.

“Drink, Princess,” he said using his glamour voice, which turned anyone’s will to mush. “Drink deep and live, my sweet mate.”

In response to his order, her tongue licked at his skin. Then she swallowed. Another lick and swallow and she latched onto his wrist and began to drink in earnest.

He allowed her to drink for nearly a minute before he pulled his wrist away. She grabbed his arm and tried to bring it back to her lips, but he pulled it out of her grasp. “Enough, mate. We’ll get you something more once we get home.”

Gerri made a whining sound as she tried to reach for his arm once again. He licked his arm wound closed, then shifted her so she sat across his lap with her head resting on his shoulder. “Sleep, Princess. We’ll be home soon.”

Gerri nuzzled her nose into the base of his neck and gave a whining sigh before relaxing fully into him.

“I’m, sorry, Highness, we couldn’t catch them,” Quinlan said softly from the front seat.

“That’s all right. We’ll catch the gutter rats another night,” Livingston responded softly. “For now, take us home. My mate needs to rest.”

“Mate, Highness?”

Livingston looked into the rearview mirror and met his right-hand man’s inquisitive gaze. “Yes, Quinlan, my mate. Once we’re home, I’ll need you to see to clearing her apartment and erasing her existence from the bland world.”

Quinlan blinked before turning his gaze to the street as he started the engine. “It will be my honor, Highness.”

Chapter Eight

Gerri woke feeling as if she had been run over by a train that had then backed up and run her a second and third and maybe even fourth time. Opening her eyes, she tensed when she didn’t recognize where she was. Tensing only added to the pain that seemed to radiate from every cell of her body.

This was not her apartment.

This room was bigger than her and her neighbor’s apartment, decorated in a sleek black-and-white and chrome style she would never, ever choose. Though she couldn’t afford it, she preferred a shabby-chic-boho sort of style—comfortable with woods and velvets and deep, jewel-toned colors.

Lifting her head from the pillow increased her headache, so she slowly lowered it again, sighing when the pain eased off just the tiniest bit. Turning her head to the right, she looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one wall of the room. All she could tell from the view was that she was on a high floor. Very high. But she recognized the nighttime city skyline so at least she had not been taken from the city.

But where the hell was she?

She listened, but there were no sounds to tell her anything. No neighbors fighting, no small dogs barking at everyone who walked down the hall, no little boy practicing the bagpipe like at her building.

Taking a deep breath, Gerri recognized the citrus and ocean scent that seemed to radiate from the bed. Turning her head further, she found the scent emanated from the pillow her head wasn’t resting upon.

Carefully rolling to her side, she buried her head in the pillow and took a deep, deep breath. Livingston’s distinctive scent relaxed her. At least until someone knocked on the door.

She didn’t answer, hoping whoever it was would just go away until she could figure out where she was, and how she’d gotten here. The last thing she remembered was leaving her apartment to meet Livingston at the café.

The doorknob rattled as it turned before the door slowly opened. A moment later, Livingston entered, followed by a woman in a maid’s uniform who carried a covered tray.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Livingston said softly as he crossed to sit on the bed facing her. He rested one hand by her shoulder and leaned down to brush a gentle kiss on her lips. “How do you feel?”

Gerri watched the maid place the tray on a small table near the windows before slipping back out of the room. Somehow she moved without making a sound, and never even glanced in the direction of the bed.

“Princess?”

“Where am I?”

“Our home.”

“How did I get here?”

“What do you remember?”

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