Page 73 of Rejected Exile

So does the woman on the outside.

"Ambrosia. Don't do this." Roarke's voice, floating on the wind, brings my attention around. He sounds firm and unyielding, but beneath that, he's almostpleadingwith whomever he's speaking to. "I know that you can. And I know I can't stop you. But please don't."

Another voice, low and ragged, so soft I can barely hear it. "Do it, Ambrosia."

Kieran's voice.

I run towards him in the darkness, my feet hitting the ground at the fastest pace they ever have, my legs pumping and my lungs burning. I cross more ground than I thought possible in the span of a few seconds. A few breaths later, I'm standing twenty, maybe thirty feet inside the woodland territory that surrounds Juniper, my eyes adjusting to a scene in the darkness.

Roarke stands in a small clearing, his hands up, his feet frozen as he tries to move towards two figures opposite him.

One of them is Kieran, his head stretched up, neck exposed, eyes open and wild as they stare into the darkening sky.

Behind him is another figure: a woman. She's wearing a long silk dress slashed up to the thighs, her breasts large and barely contained by her outfit, dark hair falling like water to her elbows. Her skin is as pale as snow, and her face, which is delicate and pointed at the chin, can only be described as gorgeous.

Taking a step forward, the womanwrapsherself around Kieran. That's the only word I can use to describe it. Her leg sensuously hitches forward to press against him. One of her hands flattens against his chest, and the other grabs onto his chin, jerking it up to expose more of his neck.

Even from a distance I can see her eyes spark with glowing light as she dips her mouth towards the beating pulse beneath his skin.

"Please," Roarke says, his hands up, this time his eyes on Kieran, "you don't have to do this. Don't... don't let her."

Kieran doesn't seem to even hear his best friend's words.

He does, however, moan as the woman slides herself against him and tightens her grip.

The moan deepens and grows in intensity as her lips peel back, fangs dart from beneath them, and she presses them quickly against his skin.

My nose catches the scent of fresh blood in the air.

The vampire's hand dips down towards Kieran's stomach, and he sags against her grip as a slack-jawed expression takes over his face.

Horror and nausea coils in my stomach. I feel like I've intruded on an intimate moment—and seen far, far more than I ever expected to see. The man listing back against the vampire woman's body as she drains him of blood isnotone I would've let press his lips to mine. I wouldn't have even given him the time of day.

As for Roarke... I don't know why he doesn't leap forward to tear the vampire from Kieran's neck. Why he just stands there, mute and silent, hands in fists as he watches it happen. Kieran's pupils grow as the venom takes over, his body twitching and spasming in her hands, and he does nothing.

I've seen too much. Whatever happens next, I don't want to be a part of it. Turning my head away, I creep as quickly as I can from the scene.

Only for my feet to fall on a twig that breaks so loudly beneath my shoes that it sounds like a firecracker.

There's a hiss in the darkness. A small sound, followed by the glow of a torch. Someone rumbles out a growl—it could be Roarke, I can't tell—and a moment later I'm staring at two... no, three vampires, pale and ashen, standing in the darkness not far from the morbid scene.

One of them, a male, takes a step forward and tilts his chin up to scent the air.

Then smiles wickedly.

"Who do we have here?"

Twenty-Five

Roarke

No.Delilah. She can't be here. It isn't safe—the vampires, quickened by bloodlust for werewolf blood, have been known to grow indiscriminate with their feedings.

More than that, though, this is something I never wanted to see.

As Ambrosia jerks her head up, fangs falling away from Kieran's neck, he wobbles. I reach out to catch him before he can fall to the ground, even as disgust churns within me, my movements bringing me closer to the female vampire. Her head jerks over in Delilah's direction, and all I want to do is reach out and claw her face off.

But I know where we are. How close we've come to the edges of their coven's main feeding site. There's a reason why the pack never hunts on the west side of town. We may not have a treaty signed in blood with the vampire coven, but we all know where they are, and only the unwary or those hungry for a high venture this way.

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