Page 105 of Fated In Blood

“That’s just a sample, you vicious creature. Enough to tide you over until I take you somewhere safe.” I went limp as a kitten when he lifted me up, cradling me in his arms, then the world tipped sideways, icy cold wind whipping my face, the heavy southern heat turned freezing—dry and crisp like we were in the mountains.

Water gurgled somewhere close by and the damp air was cool and musty, smelling of ancient stone and drifts of rotting leaves and moss.

My savior repositioned me until my head lay comfortably in the hard cradle of a muscled arm, the warm skin of his wristpressing against my mouth, that pulse beckoning beneath my lips.

“Use those sharp little fangs and take a taste. You know you want to.” His deep voice was like syrup, smooth and honeyed and convincing. And Ididwant to, every piece of me straining toward the lifeblood coursing through his veins, keeping time with his steadily thudding heart pressed against my ear.

I still tasted the barest flavor ofhim, pure power coating my mouth.

His rough, calloused thumb stroked my cheek before he pushed his wrist—that thudding pulse—tighter to my mouth, my fangs denting the tender skin but not breaking through. I wanted to feed…wanted blood so bad…but I hesitated. I…didn’t know him.

I couldn’t even string together a coherent thought.

I should…wait for Blake. Or Riordan. I knew them. They were safe.

Despite my hunger, despite my savior’s intoxicating scent…something didn’t feel right about this.

“You aresohungry, Evangeline,” my savior crooned.

“Starving. You have to drink if you want to survive. You’re bleeding out, you see. I shouldn’t have made such a long jump with you, but I had no choice, really, given the circumstances. Now you are dying and if you wait much longer, even my blood won’t save you.”

A few words got through—drink, survive, bleeding out—you are dying.

He was right. I was definitely dying. My vision was going dark; I could hardly feel my heavy, leaden limbs. My heartbeats were slowing, I was so hungry I could barely think.

God, his skin tasted sweet.

I could only imagine how delicious his blood would taste.

“One bite, love, and you’ll feel so much better.” His fingers stroked slowly through my hair, and the sensation was sublime. No one had ever touched me like this, so tenderly, like a lover. Surely one little sip couldn’t hurt?

I clamped down, my fangs severing skin and vein, blood flooding my mouth like thick, dark wine. God, he tasted better than I’d imagined anything could taste, rocket fuel and candy, so richly decadent I couldn’t get enough, power sizzling through me.

Greedy, I took too much in at once, spluttered, then grasped his forearm, fastening my mouth over the punctures and devouring him, eyes still shut. I didn’t know who this male was or even what he looked like, and I didn’t care.

He tasted like heaven, that was all that mattered.

And there was something freeing in complete anonymity, something reckless in drinking from a perfect stranger.

I didn’t have to please him or worry he might betray me. Didn’t have to care that my name was Silverwood or how I’d once been his enemy, because when this was over, we’d walk away. Easy. Clean. Strangers.

Wave after wave of pure power swept me away, pain fading, replaced by a hum of carnal heat spreading through me like a tidal wave. Ruined skin healed, broken bones knit back together, and I became acutely aware of a stranger’s hard-muscled body pressed tight against mine, his corded forearm shifting beneath my greedy lips.

Silas hadn’t killed me after all.

Damn, he was going to be so fucking disappointed.

And I was drinking…from a perfect stranger.

My eyes flew open to take in the most handsome male I’d possibly ever laid eyes on.

He looked like something out of a fantasy book, long dark-blond hair braided back like a Viking’s, light brown eyes rimmedwith an edge of molten gold that danced like a ring of pure fire. His face was the perfect blend of handsome and rugged, and without the rough edges he’d be pretty, with his long lashes and strange, piercing eyes, but with such a strong jaw, pretty was the last thing this male was.

Powerful shoulders shifted beneath my hand, heat radiated from his body, along with the musky scent that coated my mouth, saturated my senses like a drug.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice pure, sensual suggestion.

“Who are you?” The minute I let go of his arm, he lifted his ravaged wrist to his mouth and made a show of licking the bite closed, long tongue working over the area far longer than necessary as that familiar heat settled between my legs and began toburn.

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