Page 14 of Make Me Bleed

“What am I doing?” rumbles the male, and his voice is as deliciously deep and sinful as it was when he said the word ‘mate’. And then, as if I almost dared him to call me that again by remembering that charged moment in the woods, he says, “I’m here for my mate.”

There’s a moment where everything is quiet. Calm. His chest is heaving, fingers flexing at his side as though he’s prepared to go through Conall and Bridget to get to me. Conall braces his feet against the hardwood floor. And Bridget…

Her fire blossoms, growing in size, and I justknowshe’s about to toss one at the bear.

I yip. I don’t mean to do it, it definitely wasn’t on purpose, but the thought that my best friend could incinerate my beloved before I can fully process that he could be my beloved?

My instincts are screaming at me, telling me that I can’t let him get hurt. So I yip, and I poke my head out of the kitchen while saying quickly, “Bridget, no! Please, don’t hurt him!”

His pretty eyes land right on me. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. My blood—hisblood—heats up, and as he takes a pointed step in my direction, I find myself easing back inside the living room as though the blood-bond was pulling me to him.

Conall throws up his hand, moving his body so that he’s between the bear and me and Bridge. “You. Bear. Stay where you are.”

I’m still gazing up at his eyes so I see it when the honey color of his irises seem to darken to a burnt orange shade. “Are you trying to keep me from my mate?”

Conall doesn’t move. “You claiming Elise as your mate doesn’t make her so. You know how it works. Instinct or not, a mate has to choose.”

He must because he doesn’t simply knock Conall aside to get to me. And based on his side and the sheer power in those coiled muscles of his? He totally could’ve…

“Lise?” he echoes, cutting off the first syllable of my name with a deep rumble that goes straight to my pussy. Fear’s never been an aphrodisiac to me, but the way his eyes heat up as he looks at me? If nothing else, I’m definitely attracted to him. “Is that your name?”

My breath catches in my throat. It hits me that he’s waiting for me to answer him.

Why is it so hard to remember my name?

I exhale. I’ve only ever been this intimidated before, and it was the first time I was called in front of Thorn Wilkins. I knew, looking at the leader of the Cadre, that he was the male who had the power to destroy my life.

This shifter, should he choose to, could do the same…

“Yes,” I finally say. “My name is Elise van Duren.”

I don’t tell him that I’m a vampire. That’s pointless. Besides the fact that my scent and cooler body temp would make it obvious to another supe, he opened his eyes to find me sucking on his neck.

Plus, you know, there’s those tell-tale fang marks on his neck…

Fang marks.

They’rematemarks.

And if I had any doubt that his bear considers me his mate enough to keep my bite instead of heal it, that all changes in the next moment as he shudders out a breath, hard face melting into an amazed expression as he settles back on his bare feet, hands shoving deep into the pockets of his low-slung jeans as he barks out a gentle laugh next.

“Well, bless this ol’ bear. I finally found her. Lise… you’remyLise. My mate.”

I decide then and there that, whatever we are and whatever happens next, I’ll let him shorten my name if only in gratitude for the few mouthfuls of blood he allowed me while slumbering that seems to have completely knocked aside the last of my painful thirst.

And if that is another clue that he’s my beloved since vampire lore states that all it takes is a single drop of your true mate’s blood to satisfy you… I conveniently look past that as I hang back, still too hesitant to approach the massive male though every nerve in my body begs me to.

This is… this is more than I could hope for. He’s giving me a crooked grin, like he’s not only happy to find that his fated mate is a vampire who bit him, then ran, but he’s pleased by it. I’ve never heard of a shifter who didn’t struggle with their mate beingotherif only because the mating rules seem to differ. And, more often than not, the shifter is ready to mate instantly—their body and beast recognizing their mate, and their instincts telling them there’s no resign to hesitate claiming them—while a vampire mate or a human needs to more time to understand the enormity of what a mate bond with a shifter will mean.

Look at Conall. At first, he thought Bridget was a human, and he was sure she’d never want him. Then, after she lit his tail on fire, he discovered she was a witch… and he was still sure she would never want him as her mate. Mainly because, as a witch, she didn’t have a fated mate of her own, though she’s glad to be one.

Vampires can either create their beloved mate, or wait until Fate puts them in our path. I’ve always decided I would wait to find mine. It wouldn’t matter to me what they were—vamp, shifters, human, or some other type of supe—so if this maleismine, I would be happy to claim him.

But… but what if he isn’t?

There. My secret suspicion and the reason that I’m not flinging myself in his arms, letting him embrace me, relieved that I’ve finally forged a blood-bond with my beloved after all these years.

Is it the thrall? A vampire isn’t supposed to be able to charm their mate with their looks, their charm, and the magic inherent to our kind… but maybe I liked the taste of his blood so much I convinced myself he had to be my beloved—and then I convincedhimI was his mate.

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