Page 93 of Twilight Destiny

“Enough,” Saintcrow said.

Kincaid growled low in his throat but didn’t lift his head.

“Enough.” The master vampire spoke quietly but his power slammed into Kincaid, knocking him across the room.

Kincaid sprang to his feet, murder in his eyes, and then discovered he couldn’t move.

“Relax,” the master vampire said. “You’ve been at rest for two days.”

“Two days?” Kincaid shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

“What do you remember about going to Luca’s house?”

Kincaid frowned at him. Luca’s house. The cage. The silver manacles that had burned his skin like fire and rendered him helpless. The thirst—the excruciating thirst that had turned his insides to flame. The malice in the necromancer’s pale blue eyes as he had drained him to the point of madness. The welcome threat of the guillotine.

And then the blood. Rosa’s blood. Warm and sweet as it eased his thirst and made the excruciating pain bearable. He needed more. Much more to restore his strength, to satisfy his hellish thirst. “Let me go.”

Saintcrow shook his head. “I know you need blood. I’ll take you hunting.”

“I don’t need you to go with me.”

“Oh, yes, you do. You’re ready to drain the first mortal you see and I’m going to be there to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“Go to hell.”

“Not tonight. Are you ready?”

Kincaid glared at him, fangs bared, eyes blood-red, hands clenched into tight fists. “I want Rosa’s blood.”

“That’s not happening tonight, either. You can go hunting with me, or you can stay here and go without. The choice is yours.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you love her. Because destroying her would destroy you. And because I’m your friend. Now, what’s it to be?”

“I need to feed, dammit. Now!”

“Behave yourself,” Saintcrow said, releasing Kincaid from his power. “You won’t like what happens if you don’t.” He tossed a shirt and pair of jeans at Kincaid. “Change your clothes first. You smell like blood and death.”

Kincaid was tempted to try his luck at escaping the master vampire’s watchful eye, but what was the use? The man was unbeatable, unstoppable, and as tenacious as a bulldog. But the real reason was that he was just too damn thirsty to waste time trying to elude Saintcrow.

They left Morgan Creek and headed for New York. Known as the City That Never Sleeps, the moniker was certainly true that night. The streets were crowded with people—men, women, and couples crowded the sidewalk along the theater district, panhandlers plied their trade, homeless people and drug addicts huddled in front of shoddy tents. The air reeked of urine.

Kincaid strolled through the throng. It took all the self-control he had—and that was damn little—to keep from attacking anything that moved, and only the knowledge that Saintcrow was trailing behind him kept him from pushing the nearest mortal against the side of a building and surrendering to the need that burned like hellfire inside of him.

It took a surprisingly long time to find a woman alone, and by then, his nerves were raw. He practically dragged his prey into a dark alley, had to concentrate to mesmerize her before he sank his fangs into her throat.

Eyes closed, he drank. And drank.

Until Saintcrow forcibly stopped him. The master vampire sealed the ghastly wounds in her throat and sent her away.

He should have felt regret, Kincaid thought. Should have felt something other than the driving need to take it all.Rosa. He needed her blood. It soothed him, eased his hunger, his pain, as nothing else. Just a few sips to ease the torment. The awful thirst.

“Rosa.” He murmured her name, unaware that he had spoken it aloud.

“Do you think that would be wise?” Saintcrow asked.

“I don’t know.”

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