Page 12 of Until Forever Comes
“They’re poison,” another added. “Feeding from a shifter is a death sentence.”
Ted took a step toward us, though it seemed fruitless at that point because Miguel had near about reached me and everybody else was too far away to stop him. And from what I’d just overheard, distance wasn’t the only thing that would prevent Ted, or the other vampires, from getting in Miguel’s way. He was stronger than the rest—the strongest. I was right when I’d pegged him as Alpha.
“Ted, don’t get in his way,” Ralph said. “This is perfect.”
“Perfect?” Ted asked, his tone making clear he figured Ralph was more than a couple sandwiches short of a picnic.
“Yes. You asked how we could stop him. You said he was too strong for any of us to get close enough to deliver the deathblow. Well, we don’t have to do a thing. Miguel’s bloodlust is going to take care of the problem for us.”
“No.” Ted sounded stricken. “We can’t let him do that. It’s a horrible way to go.”
“There’s nothing we can do,” a vampire said.
“At least it’s fast,” another added.
After that, I tuned them out because Miguel was within arm’s reach. I had been walking toward him, but stopped, letting him take the final steps, bracing myself for whatever was to come. I heard shuffling, noticed movement in my peripheral vision as the vampires skedaddled toward an exit lickety-split, and then there was silence. Well, other than Miguel’s heavy breathing. And the dragging chain. And our pounding hearts. But other than that, silence.
My mate didn’t stop until he was inches from me. I looked up and met his gaze, felt his breath on my face. It was coming out too quickly. His forehead was creased and his eyebrows scrunched, as if he was in pain.
“Miguel?” I said as I reached a trembling hand out and rested it on his hard chest. “Are you all right?”
“I can smell your blood,” he said and wrapped his long fingers around my wrist, flipping my arm so the underside was showing. That was where I’d cut myself that morning, and though the wounds were healing well, certainly faster than they would if I wasn’t a shifter, the marks were still clear. But they were no longer bleeding, so he shouldn’t have been able to smell my blood.
“I’m fine,” I said, instinctively trying to keep my voice soothing. It was only after the words came out that I realized what I was doing. I wasn’t scared. Some part of me had already decided that Miguel didn’t pose a danger, that his question was based on concern for my well-being rather than the bloodlust the other vampires had mentioned.
He traced the fading scars on my arm with one finger and the brown in his eyes bled until it was all I could see. “Who hurt you?” he asked through clenched teeth, his fangs slipping over his lower lip. It should have terrified me, but instead I found it exciting, arousing. I wanted those fangs on my flesh,inmy flesh.
“Is it true what they said?” I asked. “Is it true that you’ll be hurt or… or worse if you feed from me?”
I already knew the answer to the question. Shifter blood was deadly poisonous to vampires. That was a given. But something inside me balked at the idea, refusing to accept it. At least not when it came to this particular vampire.
As I stood in front of Miguel, I could feel my veins thickening, feel more and more blood flood my system. It was like my body was reacting to his presence. First, by sending blood south so I had a raging erection—a peculiar reaction, sure enough, but it felt good. And also by producing more blood in general—peculiarandpainful. I’d need to release it soon, or my organs would ache and then start shutting down right quick.
“Who hurt you?” he repeated. His nose twitched and he dipped down, running it against both of my arms, my neck, across my chest, until he was squatting before me, moving his face over my legs. “Here,” he said and looked up at me. His face was smack dab in front of my groin. “There’s blood here.” His hand was on my right thigh, where I’d wiped my knife. I dressed to the right, so his fingers were close to my swollen prick. I moaned. “Who hurt you?” he asked again, his voice louder, angrier. Then he reached down to his foot and yanked on the metal chains, snapping them like they were twigs.
“Nobody,” I panted, arousal flooding me. His presence was all it took to get me going. It was incredible and terrifying all at once.
He bowed up, jumped to his feet, and, in one swift motion, he clasped my wrist and lifted it so the marks were right in front of my face. “Don’t lie to me, Ethan. I smell your blood. These are new marks.” He was fit to be tied. “Who. Hurt. You?”
“I’m not lying, honest. I made those marks. I drew the blood.”
“Why?” Miguel sounded genuinely concerned, near about torn up. He wrapped one arm around my waist, drawing me close, and cupped my cheek with the other. “Why would you hurt yourself, wolf?” His voice was softer, gentler. Lord, I wanted him.
“I didn’t… I wasn’t….”
It was nigh on to impossible to concentrate with my mate so close, with his hands on me. I wanted to feel his bare skin against mine, wanted to taste his lips, wanted to mate. So much. But before I could have any of those things, I needed to address his concerns. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my frazzled nerves.
“I didn’t want to hurt myself, but I had to let the blood out. There was too much, and I couldn’t shift. I could barely breathe,” I said, my air coming out in short gasps once again. “Like now.”
“You’re having trouble breathing?”
He eased closer, as if he was trying to feel the breaths leaving my body, measure them. His mouth, so close to my neck, captured my entire focus. Vampires fed from the jugular. It wasn’t the only place, but it struck me as one of the most intimate. I trembled and whimpered with need.
My hand was in my pocket before I could think about what I was doing. I pulled out my pocketknife and took a step back, trying to make my fingers work enough to get the blade open.
“What are you doing?” Miguel asked. He covered my hands with his larger ones. I tried to shake him free. “Stop, wolf. Stop!”
I raised my gaze to meet his and wondered if it looked as frantic as I felt. It was too much. Everything inside me was too much. My heart was working so hard it felt as if I was being stabbed in the chest. My lungs had no room to expand. Even my stomach was cramping up.
