Page 67 of Wynter's Bite

Her brilliant smile illuminated his soul. “We made it to Somerset.”

A measure of the tension in his jaw eased. They were safe from Ridley at least. “One more county to cross after this one.” He climbed out of the trunk, his muscles sore and stiff from being cramped in such a tight space. Exhaustion weighted his limbs and hunger chewed at his insides. Not to mention the burning pain in his side from being burned by Ridley’s poker. If he didn’t feed soon, the wounds would scar. He should be grateful for the slow healing, since that was the only thing keeping burnt linen from being permanently embedded in his flesh. As it was, he had to keep pulling his shirt from his wounds. The garment would have to come off at the soonest opportunity.

“Somerset?” He couldn’t hide his astonishment at the distance she’d covered with a mere cart. “You must have driven the mule all day.” The beast was now unhooked from the wagon and lying in the tall grass, idly cropping at the green blades.

She nodded and he noticed her ashen face and forgot about his own aches and weariness.

He could only imagine how Bethany felt after carrying out her daring rescue and then driving this rickety mule cart all day long.

“I wish we could run now, but we should find shelter close by.” Justus eyed the dark circles under Bethany’s eyes with concern. “You need to rest.”

“I need to rest?” Bethany lifted one honey-colored brow. “What about you? You haven’t fed in two nights, and you cannot have slept well either during your imprisonment or your time stuffed in a trunk.”

Her tone was alarmingly waspish. Yes, the woman needed sleep.

To be truthful, Justus hadn’t slept more than a few minutes in the last forty-eight hours. He was dead on his feet and weak as a kitten. But he couldn’t bear to admit it.

“Besides,” Bethany continued, absently rubbing a knot in her shoulder. “I’ve already found shelter for us, so there is no sense in arguing with me.”

Justus was too tired and too hungry to argue. “Where?”

“I found a way inside a book shop that has a cozy cellar.” Her lips curved up in a crooked smile. “I’ve become quite the criminal.”

“A book shop?” Justus couldn’t imagine a better place to rest his weary bones. He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the twinges of pain from his wounds. “I love you.”

He helped her carry the bags and they walked into the book shop right through the front door as Bethany had already unlocked it. Even though he was bone tired and weak as a mortal, the smell of old parchment, vellum, and leather bindings soothed him, like spring blooms after a winter chill.

Bethany lit a lantern and led him to a pair of massive overstuffed chairs covered in worn burgundy velvet. “We can go to the cellar before dawn. For now, you should sit down. You look pale.”

Justus laughed at her commanding tone as well as her words and tried to keep his tone light. “I’m a ginger. I’m always pale.” He stripped off his shirt, hissing as the fabric peeled from the charred wounds on his sides.

“My God!” Bethany cried. “What did he do to you?”

“Burnt me with a hot poker,” Justus grumbled, more angry at the worry in her eyes than the pain of his wounds. “Sadistic whoreson.”

She bent down to inspect the wounds, worry lines creasing her brow. “We must find a doctor.”

“No!” He barked out the word more harshly than he meant to. Bethany flinched as he grasped her shoulders and he gentled his grip and tone. “A doctor would wonder why I am healing so rapidly, not to mention ask questions that neither you nor I could provide satisfactory answers to. What I need to do is hunt. Blood will help me heal.”

“Feed from me.” Her eyes were intent as she moved her braided hair over her shoulder, revealing her creamy white neck. “You need to heal and regain your strength before you venture out again. I cannot fight off the Somerset vampires alone.”

“You should not fight them at all,” Justus growled, unable to forget the sight of her in Ridley’s dungeon, arms quivering with the weight of the blunderbuss as she’d aimed it at the vampire guard. “Furthermore, you need rest and nourishment as well.”

“I had a satisfactory rest at the inn in Gloucestershire.” Her chin lifted in implacable determination, affording him a view of her vein pulsing in her throat. “And I have eaten while I drove the wagon. I also have provisions for at least three days.”

Justus licked his lips, hunger roiling through him at the sight of her delectable neck. To avoid lunging for her, he sat and clenched his hands on his lap. Which turned out to be a mistake of epic proportions, for she cornered him then, placing her hands on the arms of the chair, and leaning forward so her braids caressed his cheeks. The scent of her, sweet and feminine, teased his nostrils, making his upper lip peel back to reveal his fangs.

“Please, Justus.” Her lips caressed his ear. “Let me give you what you need.”

His control was as tenuous as that of a newly made vampire. Every fiber of his being screamed for her blood. He wondered if his eyes were glowing yet and avoided her gaze in case he accidentally mesmerized her. “I can’t risk hurting you or taking too much.”

“Don’t worry so much. I trust you.” She tilted her head, her neck inches from his mouth.

Justus’s resistance snapped like try kindling. With a bestial growl, he yanked her into his lap and sank his fangs into her tender flesh.

She tasted better than he’d remembered. Passion and power infused him with every swallow, an intoxicating drug, tempting him to drink more and more. Bethany’s low moan was music to his ears, making him harden. Sweet torment wracked his form as her hips undulated against him. His strength returned in a mammoth surge that made his nerve endings sing.

When she sagged weakly against him, Justus’s senses returned and he removed his fangs. He cursed at her pallor as he healed the puncture wounds. He’d taken too much.

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