“Did you mean it, Remi?” Michelle asked, as she looked out the window from her seat in the SUV. “What you said?”

“Oui, chér,” he replied, knowing she was asking about his feelings for her.

“I’m sorry about your wife and child. I didn’t know.”

“It was a long time ago, and I’m okay now.”

“Is he dead?”

“Hmm?”

“Craig.”

“Non. I wanted to kill him, intended to, but Luc stopped me from unleashing the full extent of my anger. He’ll be wishing he was, though, as roughed up as I left him.”

She rubbed her cheek, which didn’t bear any marks that she’d been hit in the face.

“I’m glad Luc stepped in. Craig didn’t mean to hit me. That blow was aimed at you.” She giggled. “I’ve never been punched in the jaw before. Never know what to expect when you’re out on the town with Remi Bellerive!”

“Hopefully, a good time, and nothing like what happened at Luc’s.”

“I was having a great night before that!” She pointed a ways ahead of them. “Oh, there’s Marcel’s place! Should we stop and check on things?”

A sudden pang hit Remi, and he swerved into the opposite lane, to the blaring horns of oncoming traffic. Michelle shrieked, as he righted the vehicle.

“What happened? Did we blow a tire or something?”

“I have to get to my blood stores.”

“You’ve been needing more of that lately. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was seeing what he did to you. I became so enraged. Maybe it burned up my reserves.”

“You can drink from me, Remi. I don’t mind. You know that. I don’t want you to suffer when I can help.”

Thirst clambered inside of him, and as much as he didn’t want to use her that way, he couldn’t deny the sanguinary hunger.

Pulling onto the shoulder of the road, he threw the shifter into Park, as he tried to control his overwhelming need. When Michelle swept her hair behind her neck, he grabbed her, yanking her to his mouth. His fangs had already dropped, and he groaned when they broke through her skin. Not sipping from her like he usually did, he drank from her in long drafts from her veins. Lost in the taste of her blood, he forgot to listen to the beat of her heart.

Her hands, which had been holding his head, her fingertips threading through his hair, dropped to the seat with a smack of flesh to leather.

Still, he drank.

When he opened his eyes, his immediate view was upward, where he saw the shadows of the occupant moving behind the drapes and blinds of the apartment. Music poured from a window, above Marcel’s dark and closed bar, bringing with it the same scent that had spurred his hunger before but with an intensity that threatened to overwhelm him.

Looking back at Michelle, he saw that her head was slumped to the side. He moved her and then glanced down, as he gained awareness of the slower thud of her heart and saw her pale fingers twitching.

Forcing his fangs up, he shouted, “Michelle!” He lowered them again and ripped into his wrist, shoving it onto her mouth. “Drink!”

She didn’t move, didn’t latch onto his skin, and red ran in dual lines out of the sides of her mouth.

“NON!” he screamed, the volume of his voice shattering the windows, sending the clumps of busted and crackled safety glass out into the night. “Michelle! Drink!”

Then she moved, the slightest touch of her tongue to his flesh, and he shuddered in terror that because of his bloodlust, he’d almost killed her. Even more unsettling, her life force hadn’t dampened his thirst. It raged through him, as he licked the puncture wounds to stop the flow, while he pushed at the desire.

“Keep going, chér. Take more.” The pull of her lips strengthened. Her head lifted, and her heartbeat increased its cadence. “That’s it.”

When she leaned back, she was breathing hard, as her gaze landed on him.

“What happened? Did I black out? Maybe I needed more blood than Paulette gave me.” She looked towards the dash and noticed the windshield wasn’t there. “Were we in an accident?”

Not understanding what was going on himself, he allowed a moment of silence to pass, as he thought about what he could say without admitting what he’d done to her. The powerful control he wielded over his appetite was crumbling, and a red haze started to intrude on his field of vision.

“We need to get home, chér.”