Page 58 of Make Me Bleed

I’m asking for an eternity, and as his thick fangs jab into the point where my neck meets my shoulder, swallowing the first mouthful of blood I’ve ever shared, I send up a silent thank you to Fate—and a secret apology to my beloved for being a selfish lover.

As Hank bites me, our bond snapping into place, he growls around his bite as he begins to come.

But me?

I went off the second he tasted my blood.

And, believe me, it was totally worth the wait.

EPILOGUE

A MONTH LATER

When Hank is the light of my life, I don’t fear the dark nowhere near as much as I used to.

I don’t even realize it. Between the gap in his cave serving as a skylight letting in illumination and the candles that I bought at the commissary and brought to his—ourden—it’s never really dark, and when it is, just having Hank’s warmth surrounding my body reminds me that I have nothing to fear with my beloved near.

This past month, we’ve been inseparable. I finally understand why Bridget and Conall were attached at the hip in the first few weeks following their bonding. Predatory shifters have this obsessive need to watch over their mates, keeping them close, and repeatedly claiming them as though their instincts demand that they cement the bond again and again.

We might have finalized ours in my house in Dyea, Hank’s arms still dotted in Julian’s blood, but once the initial rounds of mating were complete, my bear convinced me to return to his den so that he could do it all over again on his territory.

After that, we just… stayed. It’s not permanent. The next morning, Hank asked me if I was ready to return to Dyea. With Mayor Lou’s approval, Hank was allowed to stay with me inside of the sanctuary, but my beloved isn’t the only possessive one. I haven’t forgotten how the other females eyed his glorious naked body after he shifted from his fur to his skin. That cock belongs tome, and my normally subdued bloodthirsty nature had me baring my fangs whenever I thought about other shifters and vamps ogling my bear.

Add that to how my house seems almost stained by my last confrontation with the rogue, and I was happy to stay with Hank in his den until I felt up to going home.

It’s June in Alaska. The weather is nothing like how it was in Clarity. In the Fang City, it was usually in the eighties, even the nineties in summer. In Dyea? The high tops out at sixty. Not like it matters to us. As a bear shifter, Hank already runs nearly as hot as Bridget does. His bear provides him a fur coat on the inside, and he adores the slight chill to the outdoors.

Me? I’m a vampire. Hank’s blood warms me up, but I can tolerate any temperature. Which is why the two of us spend our nights together in the den, and our summer days lazing about on the river on the edge of Hank’s territory. It’s not just because of the free-for-all fish buffet, either. Turns out, grizzly bears—wild and shifter—love to swim. Hank’s amazing at it, too. When he’s in his fur, he’s super buoyant, too, and he bobs in the river while carrying me on his back, my own personal furry float. He’s anal about keeping me slathered in SPF-5000 so that I don’t burn, but I love the sun almost as much as I love Hank.

Bears aren’t ruled by the moon like wolves are. They do their own thing, and after seventy-four years of doing what was expected of a van Duren, I’m enjoying myself as Elise Barrett. Hank’s rubbing off on me, I guess, but there’s nothing like watching a massive grizzly expertly climbing a large tree,searching for the rare beehive producing honey. Like Hank, the native bees in Alaska are solitary, but enough of the local beekeepers had imported European honeybees to the area that my honey-sniffing beloved can always find some. And if not, Bridget and Conall always bring a jar of honey from the canteen when they visit.

Then, when they leave, my beloved drizzles it all over me before lapping it up with his tongue…

The mated couple gave Hank and me three days after we left Dyea before they stopped by the den to make sure that I wanted to be there. Conall’s slightly embarrassed expression as Bridget interrogated a slightly dazed told me everything I needed to know: the shifter knew that there wasn’t anywhere I’d rather be, but Bridge? She needed to be sure.

Just like she wanted to know what I planned on doing next.

Obviously, heading back to Clarity was out of the question. At first, I stayed in Dyea because I didn’t want to leave Bridget. Now, I plan on living in Alaska because this is Hank’s home. My solitary bear would never be happy in a Fang City, and that’s assuming Thorn let him be the first shifter to live in Clarity. No. I was more than happy to stay, especially when Hank and I decided that we could live in the sanctuary full-time where he could rely on others to help keep me safe, and still visit his den when we needed some more alone time.

I’m the one who offered a month timeline. Hank and I would have our own version of a supernatural honeymoon, spending the month together to strengthen our amte bond and get to know one another even better. To a human, they’d never understand how a supe could tie themselves to another person for an eternity so soon after meeting them. I know I made the right choice, claiming Hank right after he destroyed Julian like that. I made him my beloved, and every moment we’ve spent together since only reaffirms my decision.

And then, only a few days before the month was up, Bridget and Conall made another visit. The previous ones were fleeting, usually Bridge bringing something that she was sure I’d need as an excuse for some ‘girl talk’ while Conall and Hank hung out by the river, fishing together.

Not this time.

This time, it was Conall who led the way, Bridget hanging back, nervously snapping her fingers, forming small fireballs before vanishing them. For a moment, I was concerned that something happened while we were gone. That the witch hunters had come for her, and that I’d missed it while I was bonding with my mate.

And that’s when Conall said, “I think I found Peter,” and if Hank wasn’t there to catch me when I stumbled, I might’ve fallen right to the grass outside the den.

He was dead. Just like I figured, and considering the state that Conall found him so far off from the edge of Dyea’s borders that it took this long to track down the body, Peter’s been gone a long, long time. No one can say for sure how was killed. Whether Julian did drain him, or it was the animals who tore him to pieces, but there was enough left of the male that Bridget was able to identify so that I wouldn’t have to.

Ah, Bridge. No matter what, my witch will always try to protect me, and I love her for it. I really do. And when she took my hand, telling me that it’s not my fault his obsession did kill him, all I could do was throw my other arm over her shoulder, squeezing her tight as both relief and regret warred inside of me.

The only one to blame for Peter’s demise is Peter. I believe that. I’d told him time and time again, there was no future for us once he took Delilah’s fang. He thought he could convince me otherwise. He said he could find my anywhere, and while he proved he was right, tracking me down to Alaska, he couldn’t get into Dyea, could he?

Now he’s dead—and when relief won out, I just squeezed Bridget until I felt strong enough to release her so that I could launch myself into my bear’s waiting embrace.

Predators are known for being possessive. Just knowing that his mate has someone else’s scent on them—whether it’s from hugging a friend or not—is usually enough to have them growling. They can’t help it. But Hank?

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