Chapter Nine
One day to Christmas
“How are you?”
Ryan didn’t answer, and he didn’t open his eyes. He recognized the voice. Winter. She’d saved him, taking down two of the biggest motherfucking werewolves he had ever seen. Clearly, he’d underestimated her.
And Liam was safe. They hadn’t kidnapped him. And Ryan wasn’t going to give them the opportunity. He’d go collect his nephew and take him back to the Order. Piers would just have to live with it.
How was he?
Relieved. And hungry.
Really hungry.
He sniffed. Her blood was sweet and so near. Just a little bite away.
She’d let him drink from her at the hospital. How could he have ever guessed how different it would be, feeding from another living being? Not the taste of blood, but the taste of life. Now he would never forget, and he would always crave.
“Ryan?” She touched him lightly on the shoulder, and every muscle went tight. His fangs elongated, and his dick came to life. Which was a problem, because he didn’t have enough blood to spare for nonessentials right now, and it left him a little light-headed. His dick jerked as though to argue its case for upgrade to essential.
Forcing his lids open, he stared straight into her face. She was so close. He balled his hands into fists.
“I think you’d better back off,” he muttered.
Her eyes widened. But she slowly straightened and took a step back. He risked a breath. No, still too close. “Farther.”
She backed away until she was against the wall, then lifted one brow. “Far enough?”
Maybe. Maybe not.
“I’m hungry,” he said in explanation.
“I know, and I’m sorry. But you’re just going to have to forget your principles for tonight.”
He pulled himself up so he was leaning against the wall and watched her warily. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
She held out her arm, wrist up. “I’m afraid I’m the only food around right now, and you need to eat.”
He went still, his gaze locked on the outstretched arm. Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting?
When she’d fed him in the hospital, he’d been unconscious. At least at first. He’d had no choice. Now he stared at her wrist with the blue tracing of veins, and hunger roared inside him. He forced it down. He’d always sworn he wouldn’t be one of those vampires, that he would not take from a human, though Piers had always told him there were plenty of volunteers willing to give. He’d refused, seeing it as a matter of pride.
But he wouldn’t be taking from Winter because she was offering freely. Or did she just think this was part of her job? “Is this because you’re my bodyguard?” he asked.
She stared back. “No. It’s because I’m your friend.”
As the words sank in, he closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted this, but had a feeling that it would change things forever. Maybe he’d never really considered himself one of the monsters. After this, would he be able to deny it?
“You’re not a monster,” she murmured.
“Can you read my mind?”
“No, but your face is pretty expressive. Sometimes you have to take what’s offered in the name of friendship, Ryan. It’s the way we all survive.”
She took a step closer, and he breathed in her sweet scent. He wanted this so much. But he couldn’t hurt her, and he was afraid he would lose control. What if he killed her? She was helping him, and he’d lose control and rip out her throat and…
She sank down onto the edge of the bed. And he didn’t tell her to go. His breathing was speeding up, his heart racing. His fangs were fully elongated now, and he ran his tongue along them, tasting the sharp metallic twang of his own blood. It just increased his craving for hers.
His eyes fixed on the vein in her wrist. There was a faint mark where she’d bled for him last night. She healed fast.
She lifted her other hand. Her index finger extended, lengthened, white like ice, into a point, and she ran it across her wrist so the blood welled up, and he was lost. He took her arm, held it with both hands, and lifted it almost reverently to his mouth.
Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it.
He kept his gaze locked on hers as he licked along the cut and almost swooned. A shudder ran through him. Winter’s was different than the other blood he’d had, richer, warmer, full of life. He latched on, sucked hard, felt the warm blood fill his mouth, trickle down his throat, warm him, bring life back to the dead places. And deep inside him, his wolf blinked sleepily.
I can do this.
He took a deep breath, stroked his tongue along the cut, and held her away from him, just to prove he could.
She grinned. “That’s really impressive. I mean, I am really impressed. It’s a little scary how much control you have. Not normal. But you should take more. You need to be back to full strength, just in case.”
“You don’t mind? Does it hurt?” Roz had once told him that it could feel amazing, that Piers could make her come just from his bite. He’d informed her that was TMI—too much information. At the time, she’d been trying to point out that eating from the source wasn’t a bad thing, that in fact, it could be a very good thing. Maybe for her and Piers. They were in love.
“No, it doesn’t hurt,” Winter said. “It feels…sexy.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You ever fed a vampire before?”
“Are you mad? My dad would go crazy.”
He still had hold of her arm, and he tugged her closer. “I’m glad. I don’t want you feeding any other vampire.” One last tug and she fell against him, bracing herself with her free hand, her palm against his chest. “Just me.”
Under the sheet, his dick was hard, and his balls ached viciously. Last night, back in his apartment, before this had all begun, she’d nearly seduced him. Maybe it was time for the hunter to become the hunted. There were other veins he could drink from. He wanted to explore her body with his hands, his mouth. Taste her everywhere.
As he released his hold on her wrist, disappointment flashed across her face. But not for long. He grabbed her shoulders and hauled her across him, so she straddled his hips. Her eyes were wide.
He buried his face in the side of her neck, found the pulse point, bit down, and felt her stiffen against him. She tasted so good. He pulled back, then stroked the small bead of blood from her white skin with his tongue, sealing the wound.
“Wasn’t this where we were last night?” he asked. “Before we were so rudely interrupted.” Sliding his hand around the back of her neck, he urged her face to his, and kissed her, tasting blood as his fangs nicked her lips. This was obviously a learning process. He licked the blood away, savoring every drop, then kissed her again, careful and slowly, pushing his tongue into the sweetness, feeling her squirm closer in his arms.
Then he kissed along her jawline, nibbling, licking, intoxicated with the taste and scent of her. His tongue dipped into her ear, and she moaned and pushed against him. He kissed the pulse point in her throat, felt his hunger rise like an icy fire inside him. His wolf growled, and the hunger calmed. Raising his head, he stared into her dazed eyes.
“You want this?” he asked.
She ran her hand down over his cheek, her fingers trailing across his lower lip, then she leaned down to kiss him lightly. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.”
Really?
He’d ask her more about that when he wasn’t in such a hurry.
Slipping his hands under the hem of the robe, he tugged it open, slid it off her shoulders, and tossed it on the floor. Beneath it, she was naked, totally naked, and quite the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her waist was tiny, curving out on either side to generous hips and firm, full breasts, tipped with dark red nipples, now tight little buds. Unable to resist, he lowered his head and kissed one carefully, licked it, holding her as the tremors ran through her body and her spine arched.
He shifted his hands to her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and then turned her quickly so she lay on her back, her eyes wide as he leaned over her.
For a moment, he just stared. Her skin was pale and flawless. The hair between her thighs midnight black.
He kissed her throat and then her breasts, sucking and nibbling and licking down her body. She tasted of ice cream, cool and sweet and totally delicious. He nipped at her nipples, and she squirmed, then he laid a trail of butterfly kisses over her flat belly, blowing softly on the curls at the base. Her thighs parted temptingly, and he shifted down the bed.
His dick was so hard, he might explode at any moment and that would be a waste. First, he needed to make her come, because he was pretty sure he was going to last no time. And maybe just one more little taste.
Lowering his head, he stroked his tongue along the seam of her sex, then kissed her inner thigh, ran his tongue along the line of the vein and felt the thrum of her pulse.
When he glanced up the line of her body, he found her staring down at him, her lips slightly parted. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, and his breath caught. But he wanted this, needed this. His hunger was overwhelming. He lowered his mouth again to her flesh, bit down, felt the moment his fangs pierced the vein and her warm blood filled his mouth. Heat and life flowed through him. And his need built inside him.
How had he ever done without this?
His hand slid up her other thigh, parted the folds of her sex, finding her hot and wet. He forced his fangs from her vein, licked at the small wound, then shifted slightly so he could place his mouth on her sex. She went still beneath him, then her hips lifted, pressing against him.
…
Holy moly.
Nothing had ever felt this good. Ever.
Winter closed her eyes and let the waves of pleasure wash over her, coalescing in her belly, building…
His tongue stroked along the length of her, lapping at her, teasing circles around her clit until she almost screamed with the need. She pushed up against him, and at last, he was there. Sucking and nibbling, pressing with the flat of his tongue, then teasing with the tip. Everything tingled, as if she was filled with fairy dust, and she was going to burst into flames and be totally consumed. Then he bit down gently, and everything tightened. He stroked with his tongue, and she exploded into a thousand glittery pieces. As she tumbled through space, he kissed her, and she was flying.
She opened her eyes as he crawled up the bed, settling between her thighs. For a second, he stared down at her, his eyes glowing crimson, and she could smell the woodsy scent of werewolf. Then he pushed inside while her orgasm still rippled through her. He was big, and he stretched her, the sensation bordering on pain, and it felt so good.
He pulled out, and pleasure shivered through her. Then he shoved back in, grinding his hips against her. Her spine arched, and she came again.
She was vaguely aware of him coming inside her, but it was a blur of mingled pleasure and pain. He crashed down onto her and the air whooshed from her lungs. Then he rolled her so she was sprawled across him, his big hands holding her tight.
“Thank you,” he said.
“My pleasure. Really, it was.”
A chuckle rumbled through him.
They had to move, make a plan. But she allowed herself just a few moments, with him still inside her. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was growing hard again.
Well, maybe there was time for a quickie.