Page 22 of The Way You Bite
“Hurts,” she complained.
“Let me do this for you. Call it making us even.” His beautiful voice rumbled close to her ear. Soothing. Hypnotic. All pain disappeared, as if he’d applied a topical anesthetic. Weird.
She needed to get her arms working and fight. She should want to battle him to death rather than let him touch her like this. But her mind drifted, woozy. The short strokes of his fingers felt so good. Better than any massage, reflexology, or hot stone therapy.
“What doescatifeamean?” She’d forgotten to Google it.
“Velvet.” His mouth tickled the skin near her ear in what could’ve been a kiss. Or maybe he smelled her hair. “Relax. Soon this won’t hurt anymore.”
Lethargy swamped her brain. She already felt better.
…
“Are you asleep?” He nudged her shoulder.
Out.
Incredible that she’d remained upright so long.
Lexan allowed himself to catalog the damage to her beautiful skin. The knife wound was no more than a few inches, but it had bruised into a cantaloupe-sized circle. So much blood had crusted on her back and clothes. Too much.
Before, he’d suppressed emotion when he’d first glimpsed the knife wound. It’d heal. It was a scratch in comparison to wounds he’d seen over the years, but injury on her twisted his gut into something fierce and brutal with a violent need to retaliate.
Who the hell knifed her? Dominic? Ambrose?
And why?
He fingered the wrecked fabric of her dress. The soft material was as marred as her skin, although the material was irreparable. The wolf in him reacted lightning fast with a dangerous need to strike. Had he allowed himself to respond to this damage earlier, he would’ve terrified her with the depth of his rage.
A growl, long and low, started in the depths of his chest as the animal within pushed for freedom. It wanted to hunt her attacker. It wanted to taste the blood of the leech’s throat as he yanked it out. He jumped away from her, strode to the bathroom, and shut the door. He gripped the counter, fighting the need to shift into his wolf form.
Not here. Not now.If he went to wolf form with this much drive and anger, he’d hunt with single-minded focus until his prey was dead. He wasn’t even sure who’d done it, but he’d kill all of them. No remorse. He’d call all of his Elites off their duties to aid him in this hunt. They could easily annihilate the Squad vamps and rip Dominic’s estate to shreds, especially now that most of the vamps had left. Ambrose and his guards posed no threat. But this wasn’t their purpose here.
Deep breaths.You will have your chance.He soothed the animal side of him. Next time he saw Dominic he would tear him apart and watch him bleed out in the sun.
His cell phone chirped. He yanked it out of his pocket, answering harsher than intended, “Yes?”
“The guys in the truck trying to kill you were low-level Squad vamps. They’re peons. They didn’t have much to say,” TC reported. “We will take care of the survivors. You want them dead or minds erased?”
“Just erase their memories. It’s more compassion than they’d show us, but I’m feeling merciful.” Useful talent TC had.
“Are you…alone withher?”
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Ambrose DiFalco called.”
Not good. “Why?”
“He wants a meeting. Actually, he didn’t ask. He gave a time. One hour before dusk at a coffee house in the city.”
“Arrange it. Text Eric the address. I’ll want you there, too.” He hung up and exited the bathroom. With a peek out her blinds, he confirmed Eric remained at his post outside on guard duty.
He lifted her upper lip. Her gums were pale to almost white, not a normal pink.
He removed the bloody dress. With a wet kitchen towel, he wiped away all residual blood.
He watched her sleep for a while. Few females could walk with this level of damage. None would challenge a male wolf more than twice her weight and with a shitload more battle experience. Remarkable. When her eyes had flashed an emerald challenge, respect had notched itself to the highest level. Nothing impressed him more than a true fighter. Ah, to hunt a fighter…and the sex upon winning…unforgettable.
If circumstances were different, and he wasn’t who he was with too much political responsibility to his species, and she wasn’t who she was, he’d have definitely enjoyed the chase. He’d be damned if staring at all her smooth skin didn’t make his mouth water with need to taste her. And her scent…it alone could be addicting.
He moved her to the bedroom. For endless minutes he stood above her. As he gazed at her slumbering form, animal instinct gripped him hard.She’s mine.It pushed him to mark her.
Absurd.Chemistry was unpredictable, but in this particular instance, he would fight it. He touched the giant emerald on her ring finger. She was marked as belonging to another, even if it was an arranged engagement to one of the more treacherous of the DiFalco hoard. Ambrose’s lust for power had earned him exile in the States after a clumsy attempt to kill his father. In most vamp families, that would’ve ended in Ambrose’s execution, but the DiFalcos were always trying to kill each other. It was a way of life. Viktor labeled it survival of the fittest. It bred devious minds, distrust, and never-ending political maneuvering. Marrying into the Scarpas, though, wasn’t a move he understood. Maybe it was a way to align themselves with one of the few larger families that wasn’t intermarried with them.
Lust clawed at his brain and body, uncaring for her engaged status. He sorted through the anomalous physical reaction, dissecting it in his mind like one would a dead animal in a grade school class.
Bloody hell.
He finally figured out how this demisang had hijacked his body. And she wasn’t going to like his explanation.
