Page 12 of Taming His Vampire Mate
But how was this possible?
Vampires were cold, unfeeling monsters. Every wolf knows that. They’re an affront to nature. Everything has seasons: it is born, it flourishes, it grows old, and it passes back into the shadows. Even werewolves, with our long lifespans, eventually age. Not even nature herself is exempt. She follows the same cycle each year.
Everything living does.
Except vampires. They’re outside the eternal dance of life and death, stealing vitality from others.
How could this… thing… be my mate?
It wasn’t possible. Wolves don’t mate with vampires. Sometimes with humans. Rarely with witches or warlocks. Mostly with other wolves.
Never with the dead.
The irony was sharp.
I was already broken. First by losing Ian, then by the savage way I had tried to replace him with James. I had tried to twist my pack into monsters just as bad as the ones we hunted. As bad as the one curled in my arms right now, no doubt.
Though he hadn’t seemed so awful when I was making love to him.
He had seemed like a miracle.
Which probably showed just how far gone I was.
Maybe this was fate doing me a kindness. I had failed to save Ian. And now I knew it was better—safer—not to love anyoneever again. To shove everyone away before I could lose them too. Before my choices could cost them their lives.
But this golden-haired vampire could never love me. Vampires aren’t capable of love. Or any real emotion at all. The only thing they care about is pleasure. And survival.
That thought decided me. The trees would provide plenty of shade from the sun, even if he was young enough for it to weaken him. He would be fine. He could take care of himself.
I needed to leave. Preferably before he woke and tried to talk to me.
As if hearing me, he rolled away enough to free my arm, still deep in sleep.
Warily, I pushed to my feet, trying to make as little noise as possible.
The forest was silent and murky with the first traces of dawn. The cloud cover overhead was rapidly lightening. Moisture hung in the air, promising rain. Better to be in wolf form for that, and to find cover.
I turned to go.
Then, behind me, the vampire let out a soft whimper.
I froze. The sound was a knife to my heart.
Slowly, I turned back.
He moaned low, curled into a ball, his back to me. He looked almost small.
Another ragged sound escaped him.
“No,” he whispered, thick with sleep. He shuddered, drawing tighter. “Not him, please. Don’t.”
It was the only evidence he was still living.
Or whatever vampires do.
Still, he was clearly having a nightmare. Strange, because what could scare a monster with no emotions?
I gritted my teeth. But I was already too far gone to let him suffer another second.
