Page 14 of Kidnapping of a Myth

“What about blood?” she asked. “I know you aren’t like the myths. You have a heartbeat and can walk in the sunlight, but you drink blood. Will that help?”

“We are stronger when we consume human blood, yes.”

“So take mine.” Bel shoved her wrist into his face, but Eamon grabbed it and pinned her arm against his chest.

“No.”

“But it can help.”

“I said no.” His death-black eyes stared listlessly at her. “I already drank from you twice, and while the curse no longer demands your death, I still crave you. If I start… I can never taste your blood again.”

“Please. If it will help.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand what I tasted.”

“No, I don’t, so tell me.” She tried to pull her arm free, but he was too strong.

“Your blood, it’s my drug of choice,” he started, as if searching for the right words. “I’ve hurt you enough for one lifetime. I won’t do it again.”

“Taking my blood at my insistence is not hurting me.” Bel finally ripped her wrist from his hold and captured his face in her hands. “Seeing you like this? That’s hurting me. This Tinker person tried to kill me, and as a result, he almost killed you, or at least it looks like he almost killed you. I feel like I’m going to be sick, and I’m terrified that the Darling boys are already dead because it seems the Tinker doesn’t want money. IEDs on residential property don’t point to exposing a scandal, either. This case follows none of the normal kidnapping parameters, and he’s toying with us. I think this is a game to him, one he’s going to force us to play to the brutal end. He wants nothing but chaos and destruction, and that’s the most dangerous villain of all. He changed the rules with this explosion, and I need your help, so you don’t get to leave me. Not now. Not ever, so let me help you. Please.”

“Isobel…”

“I’m terrified.” She rested her forehead on his, holding his jaw so close that their lips almost touched. “And I know I shouldn’t need you as badly as I do, but I can’t hide it. I need you, Eamon Stone. I’m not afraid when I’m with you. I’m not alone.”

Eamon eased her away from his chest and studied her for a long moment before pushing her bloody sleeve up to her elbow and lifting her arm to his mouth. Bel braced for the pain. She braced for his teeth to rip into her flesh again, but Eamon simply pressed a reverent kiss to her bare wrist. His lips traced her skin, kissing the heel of her hand, her palm, her fingers. Hemoved slowly, seductively, lovingly, and when he reached her fingertips, he acted too quickly for her to register. His sharp canine pricked her pointer finger, and then he sucked it into his mouth. Bel gasped as their eyes locked. He held her gaze with an intense longing as he licked her clean, and when he released her fingers, he kissed the spot he’d pricked with worship in his movements. Bel inhaled a shaky breath at the sensation of his full and mesmerizing lips on her skin, his tongue tasting her blood as if she was decadence itself, and as he lowered her hand to his heart, his eyes almost rolled back into his skull in ecstasy.

“That’s it?” Her voice shook at the intimacy of how he’d tasted her, at how badly she wanted his mouth to claim her again.

“That’s all I’ll ever risk taking from you,” he said. And while Bel wasn’t sure how a single drop could sustain a beast of his size, Eamon’s black eyes darkened, their violence returning tenfold as his strength grew.

“Now come here.” He pulled her close, folding her smaller body against his chest. “I’ll feel well enough to stand in a minute, and then I’ll hunt down the madman who tried to kill you. I will make him regret waking up today, but for the next few minutes, just sit here with me so your heart can beat against mine. So I know you’re safe.”

Bel heldher hand against Eamon’s chest, afraid to blink for fear he might stop breathing and she’d miss it, but his powerful heartbeat did not falter beneath her palm. It thundered a steady rhythm, and his pale skin warmed below her fingers. He was always cooler to the touch than most men, his skin just pale enough to be a warning, but the blood loss had turned him ashade Bel couldn’t bear to look at. She needed him to regain his normal warmth, his normal coloring, and she pressed her hand harder against his chest as if she could force her life into his veins.

“How long have I been asleep?” Eamon groaned as he covered her hand with his broad palm, holding her tight against his heart.

“Ten minutes,” she whispered. “Maybe less.”

He grunted, and without opening his eyes, he lifted her fingers to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles, his lips feather-light against her skin, and then he opened his eyes to study her face. “I’m sorry,” he said, registering the unbridled fear electrifying her every cell. “I heal fast, but that knocked the wind out of me.”

“I saw your lungs.” Bel bit her lip to keep from crying. She’d finally wrangled her tears into submission, and she didn’t want to lose control again. “That’s more than getting the wind knocked out of you.”

“Better me than you.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Are you okay? Physically I mean.”

“My back is sore from hitting the ground, but I’m fine,” she answered as Eamon stood, hoisting her to her feet with him. His bloody shirt was in tatters, and he ripped it off before grabbing the hem of her ruined sweatshirt. He dragged it over her head, bunching it up with his discarded top, and then he twisted her around. With gentle fingers, he examined her spine. But she’d been telling the truth. The damage was minor, and the tenderness would fade in a few days.

“Come on.” He slipped an arm around her bare waist and guided her to his car as if she’d been the one injured, but by the way her heart thundered, she suspected he wasn’t entirely wrong. Eamon had known what would happen to his body. He knew the pain wouldn’t last, but she hadn’t understood howadvanced his healing was. For those terrifying moments, she saw the raw and pulsing lungs of the man she’d once been terrified of. The man who haunted her nights and craved her blood, and she’d braced for his death. She thought she would always fear him, and while their relationship had changed thread by intricately woven thread over the past months, seeing his ravaged back forced her to confront their truth. He was the devil wrapped in sinfully sculpted flesh, and she’d sold her soul to him.

“I always carry a change of clothes with me. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time an attack ruined my outfit.” Eamon popped his trunk and unzipped the overnight suitcase, and Bel wrapped her arms around her bare torso, the early fall air uncomfortable without his embrace. “Plus, since I moved to Bajka to be near you, I have to travel more for work, so I keep spare suits, clothes, and exercise attire in my cars.” He stripped off his destroyed pants, and under normal circumstances, Bel would’ve lost her breath at the sight of him in his tight boxer briefs, his powerful and glorious body on display for her eyes to feast upon, but as she stood there half-dressed and covered in his blood, all she could focus on was his back. The muscles and tissue had regrown, almost completely healed save for a few deformities, but gone were his ribs, his exposed lungs, and she couldn’t stop her fingers from tracing the pink flesh.

“I told you the hospital wasn’t necessary,” he said with a smirk, his still tender skin flinching under her touch.

“Don’t tease me,” she whispered. He was fine. She could see it with her own eyes, but witnessing him torn to shreds changed something inside her. Eamon had once confessed that he never experienced fear until he met her. His concern was for her life. For her safety, and she finally understood what he meant. It was one thing to fear for her own life, but the terror of losing him unlocked a new reality within her.I love you. I love you. I loveyou.They were his words, his feelings, but was he alone in them? Had beauty fallen for the beast?

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Detective.” He held out a black dress shirt to her. “Arms up.” She obeyed, and he slid the fabric over her body, then buttoned up the front in an act surprisingly intimate for putting clothes on. “Your pants are clean, for the most part. We’ll wash the blood off your skin and hair when we get back to the house.”

“I need to call Griffin.” Bel caught his hand as he rolled up the sleeves to fit her smaller arms.

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