Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
“Stop. You’re hurting me.”
Her words slapped him.
He released her, suddenly aware of how hard he’d been gripping her elbow and hand. She cradled her arm against her stomach, remnants of gauze still clinging, and hid the worst of the injuries from his gaze. But the image was seared onto his brain.
His throat went raw, as if he’d swallowed glass.
His head sagging on his shoulders, he raked his hands through his hair. He couldn’t stop hurting others, could he? And to hurt her, of all people. Maybe they’d all just be better off if he—
“Hey,” she said softly. The light touch of her hand landed on the back of his head. After a moment, she stroked him. Slow. Gentle.
Out of nowhere, a hazy memory slammed into his brain. The soft drags of her fingers in his hair, when he’d been injured, when she’d given him permission to feed from her vein. How shaken she must’ve been, how much pain he’d clearly inflicted, and yet she’d shown him tenderness, compassion.
“I’ll see the doctor, okay? You know, as long as he’s a real doctor, and all.” The soft cup of her hand petted over his hair again.
For a long moment, Nikolai absorbed the incredible warmth and gentleness of her touch. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself the smallest pleasure. He didn’t deserve it, but that didn’t keep him from wanting it, from needing it, like air.
Like blood.
Resigned to see fear or hatred or disgust in her eyes, Nikolai lifted his head.
She smiled at him, her eyes filled with what looked like understanding and concern. “Okay?”
Nikolai’s chest flooded with a foreign warm pressure. The hand that he rubbed against his sternum ached and the meaning of that sensation niggled at his consciousness.
What was she doing to him?
He swallowed, hard, and nodded, the flash fire of his rage dying as quickly as it had roared to life. “Okay.”
Chapter 7
Feeling that odd pull to her again, exacerbated by a deep and growing need to heal her, to care for her, to make her better, Nikolai turned his attention to the tray. Next to the plate of grilled shashlik was a pill bottle. He handed it to her. “Will this work for you?”
She read the label and nodded, then set about removing the plastic safety wrapping securing the cap. Her cheeks pinked, intensifying her luscious scent and making Nikolai realize he was watching her every move. He sat back on his ass, knees drawn up in front of him, and put a little distance between them as she swallowed the pills.
Eyeing the tray, she licked her lips. “Do you, uh, do you want some? Or, oh, maybe you don’t eat…”
“I do, but it’s for you.” Nikolai’s mouth went dry at the offer. After everything she’d given him, she was willing to offer more?
“I can share.”
“Please.”
Shrugging, Katherine picked up a shashlik skewer and pulled a piece of marinated, grilled beef from one end.
“I hope this is to your liking. The only human foods we eat are meat and spirits, and I’m sure the staff didn’t have time to prepare for our arrival.”
“It smells great. Anyway, I’m so hungry anything would taste good, so…” She ate the beef from her fingers, and sucked the juice from her thumb.
Her teeth, sinking into the rare flesh. The pink juice on her lips. The little, throaty sounds of pleasure and satiation. Nikolai’s erection turned to steel. Each bite taunted and seduced him. It was everything he could do to sit still and let her finish her meal.
Maybe diverting his attention from her mouth would help. His gaze dropped to the shapely fit of her sweater over the round fullness of her breasts. His palms ached to feel the heavy warmth of them, his fangs throbbed at the thought of penetrating the perfect mounds with his bite while his cock filled the cleft between her thighs.
He heaved a breath and forced his eyes to keep moving, but there was no place safe to look. The blood—his blood—smeared across the hem of her sweater and coating the front of her jeans from waist to knees unleashed a deep yearning in his gut.
He wanted her to have his blood, but not accidentally. He wanted her to have it because he’d knowingly offered and she’d willingly, wantonly accepted.
He sucked in a breath. There was only one way that happened. If they were mates.
Which was something he could never have. Not after what he’d done. He didn’t deserve the comfort, the solace, the satisfaction that a mate could bring to his life.
But, Jesus, she was making him think, making him consider, making him want.
No.
“How old are you?” he asked.
She swallowed the bite she was chewing and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Twenty.”
Nikolai dropped his head to his knees with a groan.
“Almost twenty-one,” she said, cracking open a new bottle of water Leo had brought in with the tray.