Page 32 of Taming His Vampire Mate
“I couldn’t what, wolf?” I was grateful for the spark of anger. It drove away the image of a thousand people just like Nicolas waking up with a hunger they didn’t understand. A thousand innocents who would ultimately turn into hungry, emotionless monsters that still thought they were themselves, even while they murdered their friends and neighbors with songs in their hearts.
“I mean… you can’t actually care about the victim,” he said cautiously, as if the idea were so absurd I might eviscerate him for even suggesting it.
And I did want to tear him apart—but not because it was absurd. But because if he understood, he would use it against me. Just like Magnus had.
“Of course I don’t care,” I lied. “I just didn’t want to be in a confined space with you a moment longer than necessary.”
His brows drew together, studying me. Something thoughtful passed over his face, as if he didn’t believe me. I fought the urge to hurl him through the convenience store’s front window. He’d probably survive. Unfortunately.
When it became clear he wasn’t going to speak at all, I clenched my fists and stormed away without another word.
I made it out of the parking lot and down the empty street, trembling with my fury. I didn’t move at vampiric speed—I wasn’t about to leave him to die pointlessly—but I couldn’t stand to look at him a moment longer.
Naturally, he’d had no reaction to the attendant’s death. He probably enjoyed imagining the violence. Just like he’d enjoyed hunting James and Pierce.
He might have James fooled, but he was every bit as bad as Magnus or Godric.
And I’d never, ever let myself forget that.
CHAPTER TEN || JEREMY
Ifollowed ten feet behind Thierry as he stormed down Rookwood’s deserted main street.
It dawned on me in stages why he’d left the manager’s office so abruptly.
He’d lied. His reaction had nothing to do with me.
Which meant the violence had rattled him.
In my defense, it was a tough pill to swallow—the idea that any vampire, much less Thierry, could give a single, solitary shit about a stranger he’d never met. It was just this side of ludicrous.
But he clearly did, didn’t he? That’s why he’d bolted. And then he’d gone on the attack, the way a cornered animal lashes out, the second I had boxed him in.
Other pieces clicked into place: first, his simmering anger toward me. And then there was the murderous gleam in his eyes when he’d brought up James…
It couldn’t have been just worry for James.
And if it was… did that mean they were—what?Friends?
I didn’t like it. Vampires didn’t have friends. They had victims.
“Thierry, stop,” I called after him, once we’d nearly reached the far end of the street without seeing a single living soul. “Can we talk about this?”
He didn’t look back. Didn’t slow down.
I hesitated, grinding my teeth at the thought of showing weakness. But maybe a little vulnerability would put us on even footing.
So, with effort, I added, “Please?”
He stopped immediately, shooting me a sharp, narrow-eyed glance over his shoulder. The seething rage on his face wasn’t exactly inviting.
“I was raised to believe vampires were blood-drinking monsters who didn’t care about anything but blood and sex. My father taught me that. His father taught him.”
“Who says I’m not?” Thierry’s voice was cold. “You don’t know me at all.”
“I won’t hurt James,” I said, watching him closely for a reaction. “You have my word on that.”
It landed. Some of that fury flickered, and for just an instant I could’ve sworn I saw relief in his eyes.
