Chapter Three
She had to feed. Dammit. Isabella slapped her hands against the dirty brick wall on the outside of a blaring bar. She was far away from the main Vegas strip, on a side of town that tourists wouldn’t visit. Music blasted, the scent of cigarettes drifted in the air, and her whole body trembled.
She’d used too much energy running—and then healing. Now her bones were back in the right place and her cuts had mended, but she staggered with each step she took. If she didn’t feed soon, Isabella knew she’d be passing out. She had to find prey, fast.
Her eyes squeezed shut. She could do this. She could walk up to the bouncer, give him a smile, compel him, and get her ass in that bar. Once inside, she’d find some drunk asshole to be her lucky victim. Easy. Maybe.
A rich, woodsy scent teased her nose. She pushed away from the wall and swung toward—
“Going somewhere?”
Her knees almost buckled. It was the werewolf. Only he was looking a whole lot less beast-mode. He’d reverted back to his human form. His hair was dark, his eyes a vivid green, and his face…beneath the flickering street lamp, he looked scary as hell.
Scary not like a wolf, but like…like the kind of trouble a smart woman steered clear of. Dangerous, bad, sexy scary.
He was tall, with wide, strong shoulders. His shoulders stretched the fabric of the black t-shirt he wore. A pair of jeans hung low on his hips, and boots covered his feet. She didn’t even know how the guy had gotten new clothes so soon. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been ripping through the garments he wore. Literally tearing them to shreds with his claws.
He took a step toward her.
Isabella immediately backed up. “Stay away from me!”
He stilled. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
They were on the side of the bar, on a street that looked empty, and she knew better than to believe his lies. “So says the werewolf.” She licked her lips because they were desert dry.
His gaze immediately fell to her mouth and…heated?
Why was his gaze warming while he stared at her lips?
She threw out her hand and hit the brick wall, steadying herself right before her knees would have buckled.
“You’re…hurt. I smell the blood on you.”
“Right, well, that happens when you jump from a seventh floor window.” Her breath rasped out. “But don’t worry. I’m all healed. No more wounds.” Just weakness. A weakness that will go away when I get a little liquid power in me.
He took another step toward her.
“No! I said stay away, werewolf!”
“I’m not a threat to you.” His voice was deep and rumbling, and it seemed to sink right beneath her skin. “And in case you missed it when we met before, my name’s Griffin.”
No, she hadn’t missed it. She hadn’t missed anything about him. Her wrist throbbed. Burned. That was so weird. The closer he got to her, Isabella swore she could feel his bite actually warming her skin. “You’re not a threat?” Isabella lifted her chin. “My mistake. I wrongly assumed the guy who tried to stake me before might be dangerous.”
He growled.
She shivered. Why am I shivering? Growls aren’t sexy. This guy isn’t sexy. He’s probably a werewolf psychopath!
“Things are…different now.”
Isabella had no idea what that was supposed to mean. “Just get out of my way, okay? You say you’re no threat. Fine. If that’s the case, then leave. Because I’ve got places to go.” And people to bite.
Instead of leaving, she blinked and the guy was right in front of her. Griffin reached out and his fingers curled beneath her chin. As soon as he touched her, a surge of electricity pulsed through her entire body. She found herself gasping, and—very, very embarrassingly—her nipples hardened. She also realized that rich, woodsy scent that she’d detected moments before? It was coming from him. A wild scent…an oddly alluring scent.
“Your heart is beating too slowly.”
“You can hear that?” And she’d thought she had good hearing…
“Werewolf senses, sweetheart.”
Since when was she sweetheart?
“Your breathing is labored, and you’re trembling.” Griffin lightly stroked her chin with his thumb. “Why did you jump? Were you so upset by what happened between us that you thought the only alternative was—”
“You’re insane.” Isabella just broke right through his words because she’d come to that important realization—the werewolf is crazy. “I jumped because some assholes with guns broke into my hotel room and tried to kidnap me. The only way to escape happened to be through my window.”
A faint furrow appeared between his brows.
Her gaze dropped to his throat. “What I wouldn’t give for a taste,” she whispered as she stumbled toward him.
Quite a few things happened then…
Griffin swore and pulled her…closer.
Footsteps raced toward them.
A man shouted, “I see her!”
And bullets blasted into the night.
Isabella opened her mouth, prepared to scream as those bullets sank into her. The assholes had found her. As weak as she was, they were going to take her. She was helpless.
But the werewolf lifted her into his arms and he leapt up into the air. The move was insane, so incredibly fast, and Isabella was sure she felt the heat of the bullets race by her skin—yet those bullets didn’t strike her.
Because of him.
Griffin touched down on the roof of the bar. She was still held in his arms, gaping at him in surprise. He’d just saved her ass, big time. He leaned his head close to hers, putting his lips just an inch, maybe two, from hers. “They’re dead,” he promised.
It took her a moment to process what he’d said. And when she did, it was too late. He’d already let her go. He placed her on the roof and then he leapt back down to the street below. She blinked after him, then screamed, “No!” because she didn’t want to see the wolf get his body riddled with bullets.
But as she watched, clinging desperately to the edge of that roof, he went right for his enemies. There were two humans there. One fired at him, but Griffin dodged the bullet and then his claws swiped at the man who’d just tried to kill him.
The shooter went down. He didn’t get up.
The guy’s partner aimed—
“Look out, Griffin!” Isabella yelled.
He turned at her shout. A bullet grazed his shoulder. It didn’t slow him down. He leapt at the shooter before the man could fire a second time. The human hit the ground.
Two dead bodies.
So much blood.
Then Griffin looked up at her. His eyes were glowing. His face was harsher, sharper than before. He appeared as a combination of man and beast, and fear clawed at Isabella’s insides. She whipped around and scrambled across that roof.
He’s too comfortable with death. He’s too dangerous. He’s…
In front of her. He was right in front of her, again. Griffin was standing right in front of her and his hands—tipped with razor sharp claws—were reaching for her.
Those same claws had just killed two men.
“I told you,” he said, “they’re dead.”
She gaped at him.
He frowned. “You’re welcome.”
He expected her to thank him for death? Was the guy straight-up crazy? Wait, yes, they’d already established that he was.
“You’ll come with me now,” Griffin said.
“No, I won’t.” He didn’t know her. Didn’t know about her strict no killing rule. And he didn’t know how close she was to a serious freak-out. “Go away, wolf. How many times…” Weakness weighed down her limbs. “Do I have to say…go away?”
“The humans in the bar heard the gunshots. Cops will be called. Do you want to be here when they swarm the scene?”
No, she wanted to be far away.
He pulled her into his arms. Held her. Seemed…oddly happy. “You fit me.”
Crazy werewolf. Her eyes were on his throat. One bite, just one…a few sips of blood and she’d be back to her normal power level. She’d be able to get away from him.
“I was told…it was wrong. Taboo. It’s not.” He turned his head. His glowing eyes met hers. “We’re not. I’ll fight anyone who challenges my right to you.”
Yes, well… “I’m sorry that you’re crazy.” His throat was just too close—and if she didn’t get blood soon, she’d be passing out. “May I bite you?”
He blinked. “You bite me, and we’re going to fuck. I want you too badly.”
Uh…
He leapt off the roof. Since she’d recently taken a fall that ended with broken bones, Isabella immediately closed her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood for more pain.
She didn’t get pain.
They didn’t crash into the ground. He landed on his feet, not even swaying a little bit. He held her easily in his arms. Her eyes opened as Griffin ran past the dead men, and then he was snaking through twists and turns in the city, stopping right next to a motorcycle. He put her on the seat and climbed on before her.
“Werewolves ride motorcycles?” Isabella shook her head.
“Hell, yeah, they do. But this one isn’t mine. So give me a second to get her going.”
Not…his? She realized he was hot-wiring the ride. The werewolf was a killer and a thief. And he’d saved her ass. The motorcycle growled to life.
“Hold on. Tight.”
She could barely stay upright. And he wanted her holding on? The motorcycle lurched forward, and her hands flew around him. She held him tight as the wind whipped against her body.
The bloodlust grew within her. She needed to drink. The weakness was getting worse. The buildings and the people all passed her in a blur. Her entire focus was on him. She could feel the beating of his heart. His body emitted a warmth that drew her in, and the werewolf smelled absolutely…delicious.
She leaned forward, pressing her body up against his. They weren’t wearing helmets, probably because he hadn’t been able to steal those. He braked at a red light. Her tongue slipped out and licked along the edge of his neck.
“Sweetheart…” The endearment came out as a warning. “You are playing with fire.”
Her head turned. There was a club just a few feet away, right past the curb. Fast, techno music blared from inside what was no doubt a hot-spot. She could see bodies gyrating inside. “I’ll get off here,” she whispered. “And just grab a quick drink.” And she did. She jumped off the bike, but nearly fell. She managed to stay upright, but he grabbed her wrist.
“You’re going to drink…from another?”
Hadn’t she just said that? Her eyes narrowed on him. Griffin had no idea how dangerous bloodlust could be for her. If she didn’t drink soon, she might lose her control. She might hurt her prey.
A car horn blared behind them.
Griffin ignored the driver. “You want to drink, then you drink from me.”
“The price is too high.” Because his words kept playing in her head, over and over. We’ll fuck. A werewolf lover would savage her. If only half of the stories she’d heard about his kind were true…
She fell. Her strength gave way even as her fangs slipped out completely. Before she could hit the ground, he’d scooped her up and put her on the motorcycle again. Only this time, she was in front of him, with the warmth of his body surrounding her. The motorcycle shot forward into the night.
“You’re weak.”
Ah, now he was catching on. “Must…have…blood…”
“You drank earlier.” His voice rose over the purr of that bike. “I saw you feed on that bastard in the alley.”
Her tongue slid over one fang. “That was before…broke bones…had to…heal, inside and out.” Because she’d had some fun, internal injuries after her fall, too.
He swore—using some truly, wickedly inventive words. Then his right wrist flew up. His left hand kept a steady hold on the handlebar. “I can’t believe I’m saying this shit, but take my blood.”
“No, I won’t—”
“We’re not fucking on the bike. The fucking will wait until I have you alone, not on a damn street.”
Uh…good to know?
“I won’t have you weak. Not while I can help you.” His voice seemed to vibrate behind her. “Consider it payback.”
His wrist was in front of her mouth, and Isabella didn’t have the willpower to stop herself. She needed blood, and she wasn’t going to be fool enough to turn him away.
She licked his skin.
He swore again. The guy had a tendency to cuss far too much.
Her fangs sank into him.
“Fucking hell.” Yet Griffin didn’t sound like he meant those words. His growled voice hadn’t contained pain. Only pleasure.
His blood slipped onto her tongue, and a white-hot desire exploded in her body.
Fucking hell, indeed.