“It’s true. Aren’t you the least bit curious to know what it’s like when I bite you?”
Was she? His bite filled her with a warm, sensual pleasure. Did drinking from her give him the same pleasure in return? It hadn’t occurred to her that it might involve more than just satisfying his thirst.
He bit into his wrist and held it out to her. “What do you say, love?”
She stared at the blood, darker and redder than her own. Whatdidit taste like?
“Only one way to find out.”
She seemed to be standing outside herself, watching, as she lowered her head and licked at the blood. It was hot and thick on her tongue and it filled her with warmth and a surprising desire for more. Horrified, she jerked her head away. And then wished again that she had taken just a little more.
He smiled a knowing smile as he sealed the wounds, then drew her into his arms again.
She hid her face against his chest, embarrassed by what she’d done.
And anxious to do it again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
After leaving Rosa, Kincaid transported to New Orleans. It had been a good long while since he’d been there. The city had changed some—a few old buildings had been restored. There were a couple of new souvenir shops, a bookstore, a palm reader. At this time of night, only the bars were open.
He strolled down Bourbon Street, not really searching for prey, just familiarizing himself with the lay of the land. Passing by an alley, he caught the scent of another vampire, a young one. The sweet notes of soft jazz drifted from one of the nightclubs.
He headed for the last known address of the witch, Izabela, a small, two-story house located in an older section of town. A six foot wrought-iron fence surrounded the property, a thick chain secured the gate. A large Doberman prowled the grounds.
When Kincaid vaulted over the fence, the dog rushed toward him, only to come to an abrupt halt when Kincaid bared his fangs. With a low whine, the dog tucked its tail between its legs and trotted into the backyard.
Taking the porch steps two at a time, Kincaid rang the bell.
Three minutes later, Izabela pulled back the lace curtain that covered the window beside the door. She stared at him for a long moment before unlocking the door. “Kincaid.”
He nodded. “Mind if I come in?”
“Do you mean me any harm?”
“No. I only want to talk.”
He felt her power move over him before she unlocked the screen door. With a murmured, “Come in,” she stood back to allow him entrance.
He followed her into the parlor. Little had changed since the first time he’d been there. The living room was a large space crammed with heavy wooden furniture. Several bookcases held an assortment of volumes, ivory figurines, and a variety of other knickknacks. A dozen colorful throw pillows were scattered across the high-backed sofa. Dark green carpet covered the floor. A gray Persian cat lay curled up on a pink pillow beside the fireplace. A one-legged crow sat on a perch, watching him through black beady eyes.
“Sit,” she invited.
He moved a couple of pillows out of the way to make room on the sofa. She looked the same as the last time he had seen her, a tiny woman with a mass of golden hair, and pale brown eyes with yellow flecks. He had often wondered how old she was. Somewhere between sixty and a hundred and fifty, he guessed.
She settled into a large rocking chair covered by a brightly colored fringed throw. “What brings you here after so many years?”
“Someone I know has asked if you could fashion a protective band for him like the one you made for me.”
“Who is this someone?”
“A hunter.”
She lifted one brow. “A hunter?”
Kincaid shrugged. “He seems like a decent guy, for a hunter, but he got tangled up with Luca and now his life and that of his family is in danger.”
“When did you start protecting vampire hunters?”