Page 11 of Make Me Bleed

She never mentioned any above ground caves. I’m looking at one now, but that’s not all.

Sprawled out on its belly, snoring so loudly it’s like constant rolling thunder in between breaths, is an oversizedbear. A grizzly, if my guess is correct, and since I can’t even tell what kind of bear it is, it’s no surprise I have no clue if the monstrous beast is simply taking a nap or if it is hibernating.

That’s something bears in the wild do, isn’t it? Hibernate? If so, I thought that might be only in the winter, but even in May, I passed more than a few stubborn piles of snow that haven’t quite melted yet. It’s possible the bearcouldbe hibernating.

Or maybe I’m hoping so because then I could risk taking a sip or two without waking the beast up.

And that brings me back to my question:

Has hunger ever made you do anything crazy?

Like, I don’t know, maybe drink abear?

Because that’s exactly what I do.

Tiptoeing close to the slumbering bear, I look it over, searching for the best spot for me to sink my fangs in past the fur, past the solid fat, past the muscle. There’s no way to find a vein, but as big as it is, I’m sure it has blood to spare for a vampire in need.

I pin down the bear’s shoulder. Just in case I wake it up, I use my strength to keep it down, then strike likeIam a rattlesnake, digging the points into whatever part of its flesh I can reach.

My lashes flutter, my eyes rolling back in my head as I take my first sip.

The bear tastes like spiced honey…

It tastes like…mine.

The taste of the bear short-circuits my brain. I know a wild animal can’t be my beloved, no matter how many times I was told as a fledgling that I would know my fated mate from the taste of his blood alone. For all these years, I’ve waited for that recognition and it never happened.

It can’t be happening now. I’m just so, so thirsty so I drink?—

One second, the bear was sprawled out on the rock, fast asleep. Within the first few pulls of that ambrosia-like blood, something happens. Its form shifts, and I don’t just mean the creature wiggles to move away from my piercing fangs.

I mean, itshifts—and, suddenly, my fingers are digging into hard muscle covered in golden skin, my fangs plunged into a thick neck. The soft edge of his thick, shaggy dark hair—the same color as the bear’s pelt—feathers against my cheek.

The male… because it’s amale… groans as I suck.

The throaty sound hits me a moment after the realization that the bear I’d been feeding from is truly a bearshifter. Tearing my fangs out, leaving two large gaping holes in the side of his neck, I scrabble back. My heels catch in the dirt, snagging on the grass, but I manage to put a good fifteen feet between us as the male rises gracefully from his former sprawl on the rock before turning to face me.

He’s naked. I mean, of course he’s naked. Shifters are in their fur or in their skin until they pull on clothes. The bear wasn’t sleeping in jeans so it makes sense that, as he sluggishly turns, searching for the female whobithim, he would be naked.

But what about the monster erection jutting up from the juncture in between his wide hips?

I get an eyeful of the thick, long cock, feel all of his blood rushing right to my cheeks, then force myself to meet his gaze.

His eyes are the prettiest gold. Closer to the color of rich honey, they peer at me from beneath heavy eyelids. His breath issoft, his chest heaving slightly, and I get the feeling he’s still half asleep.

Is he dreaming?

AmI?

He extends his hand, gesturing at me. And then, in the deepest, roughest, sexiest voice I’ve ever heard, he says one word that has me freezing in place.

“Mate.”

Mate.

Maaaate.

My lips part. He growls softly.

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