Page 21 of The Huntress

She pressed her wrist to his soft lips. “Please heal.”

He released her shirt, and with the lightest of touches, grasped her hand. He held her still as his fangs grazed her wrist. She trembled but didn’t move away. His teeth pierced her skin, but along with the pain came breathtaking pleasure. Like nothing she’d experienced before.

A moan tore from her, and she buried her face into his T-shirt-covered bicep, shivering as rush after rush of exquisite endorphins swept through her.

Chapter Ten

A MYSTERIOUS WOMAN

Gabrielhadnointentionof rescuing any woman stupid enough to participate in the festivities. Leo had called to him, desperation seeped in his mental voice—a tone he’d never heard from the stoic vampire—begging Gabriel for help. Leo said he picked up not one, but two dark spots in his mental scans of the eager festival participants.

Val had taken the bait as expected, but Callie’s presence complicated things. Leo couldn’t protect Callie and Val. The need to ensure they were both safe was driving him to panic. That Leo had revealed some of his emotions in the mental conversation said more than his words ever could. Gabriel could not recall seeing his friend so vulnerable, so human with his feelings.

Not understanding how Leo’s gift worked, Gabriel assumed he’d compelled Callie to run toward him. When unusual shadows fell across his skylight, along with the beat of running feet, he’d sighed, abandoning an old text on Greek mythology to move into the stock room. He wouldn’t leave his sanctuary, but should she venture into his domain, he’d come to her aid. For Leo.

She’d descended the ladder as he had mentally influenced her to. Her enticing backside swayed as she clambered down until her scent hit Gabriel. Fragrances he hadn’t experienced in centuries—vanilla, peaches, chocolate, and musk. Sweet flavors and tastes he’d lost upon conversion.

As she fumbled her way deeper into his life, he’d gaped at her in frozen disbelief, not understanding his body’s reaction to her. The need to go to her, to hold her, to taste her life’s essence…almost brought him to his knees. Was this Leo’s doing? He shook his head, having not sensed a compulsion.

When Darius descended, a fierce possessiveness claimed Gabriel. He wouldn’t, no, couldn’t, share her.

Her courage amazed him. Her ability to resist Darius’s pheromones intrigued him—as Leo had mentioned—though he hadn’t believed him at the time. When she’d spotted him, her arousal’s scent only for him, had his instincts reacting, his control non-existent. He clenched his fists to rein in his volatile emotions, and he barely succeeded.

Darius wouldn’t have her.

He’d clawed Gabriel’s torso a second before Gabriel had pinned the male in a chokehold. The fact he’d allowed the younger vampire to wound him was beyond acceptable, but worth it when she insisted on helping him.

Who was this woman?

He knew her name and what Leo told him, but she was nothing like the crazies who toyed with vampirism. With her desire not to be food, to die, or convert, it confirmed his impression of her.

As gentle as he could, Gabriel bit into her wrist. He didn’t need her blood. He said he did to observe her reaction. He found her determination to help admirable, and the temptation to taste her was more than he could bear. That was a surprise, especially when his control was legendary.

The taste of her blood made him growl. The sound tearing from his throat was one he hadn’t released in years. Sheer ecstasy.

Peaches. She tasted like peaches.

At her throaty moan, he hardened to his full length, having been in a state of semi-arousal since she’d intruded. The scent of her desire hit him at the same time her blood altered to taste like…chocolate? He tightened his grip on her wrist. He moaned and drank deeply.

Damn. A human woman not enamored with vamps. Someone who tried to save him and even offered her blood. One whose blood was sweet… Who was this intriguing woman?

Gabriel stared at the heavy auburn braid falling across his right arm. She’d moaned and clung to him, experiencing the thrill his saliva bestowed upon his prey—and for the first time, by the looks of it. Her emerald eyes widened in surprise before narrowing into a heated expression he yearned to see again. Her reactions were pure, impulsive, and instinctive. Desire and need rolled through him, parting his lips on a soft gasp. Pounding in his ears, his heart leapt and danced in excitement. Every instinct within him demanded he learn all he can about her. What an enticing creature she was.

When she slumped to the floor, he ran his tongue over the puncture wounds to heal them.

His heart lodged in his throat with an unfamiliar fear squeezing his lungs. Gabriel drew in a long calming breath. Fool. He’d drunk too much. It had been centuries since he’d lost control.

With an angry growl, he sat up and scooped her onto his lap. He listened to her faint heartbeat as panic descended upon him. Vampires didn’t panic. He cursed himself even as he fought for breath with his eyes squeezed shut. It seemed as if the Devereaux sisters had a talent for inducing panic in ancient and battle-honed vampires.

After slicing his wrist with a sharpened fingernail, he pressed it to her parted mouth, compelling her to swallow. She did. Her throat working was a sensual delight. After licking his wound closed, he ran his tongue over her lips, cleaning her of his blood droplets. Moon above, the taste of her ripped through him. He jerked away, studying her upturned face before gathering her close to him.

He sat there in a state of unbelievable bliss, with tears dewing his lower lashes. Just holding her close to him gave him indescribable joy, an emotion he rarely experienced. In fact, the warm and pleasant sensation solidifying in his chest required focus to identify. He fought the urge to crush her to him, as if keeping her there would freeze time.

With trembling fingers, he traced the curve of her jaw, to clasp her chin between reverent fingers. Her unconsciousness allowed him the luxury of admiring her features without the distraction of her emerald eyes. Long, dark red eyelashes brushed alabaster skin marred by shadows. Concern? Fear? What could’ve caused her sleepless nights? Valerie’s sickness?

His vision blurred as he blinked at her—dazzled. Amazement coursed through him at his interest, at his dislike that she suffered. When last had he cared for a human? Abigail? He dismissed her image before it formed, clinging to the woman in his arms instead. Fondness, Leo had called it. To feel such emotion so swiftly worried him. He was not one to act in an irrational manner. Nor was he one to form an immediate attachment.

Witchcraft. It had to be. He’d seen much in his centuries of existence, so it was plausible.

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