Cora peeled off what was left of her outfit to finish bathing properly. By the time she was done, the water was stained pink by her blood. After stepping out, she pulled the drain, wrapped herself in a towel, and then glanced at herself in the mirror for the first time tonight.

Just above her temple, a rough hook-shaped scar ran into her hairline. To her surprise, it already looked as though it was few months old. There were other, smaller marks, almost like splatters, that marred her skin just around her eye, undoubtedly where the glass had embedded into her flesh.

She couldn’t remember most of the accident. She hadn’t even seen the guy who hit them. But there was no way it was a coincidence. No doubt, whoever it was had hoped the crash would kill her. They couldn’t have hoped to kill Mace. Taking a vamp’s life was much more difficult than that. Witnessing Edgar’s death had been a frightening experience to say the least.

So, all in all, one thing was certain: Her life was in danger, and as crazy as it sounded to her, a vampire—the thing she always thought she feared more than death—might be the only thing keeping her from it.

Outside the bathroom, she found the cheap, plain white gift-shop shirt in a bag on the chair and put it on. It was an XL, which hung to her knees. She searched the bottom of the bag, saddened to find no clean panties, or any other garments for that matter. The only pair of underwear she had were drenched from the bathwater. She decided to let them dry on the towel bar in the bathroom, then slipped under the covers of the king-sized bed.

That thrumming that had started with Mason’s touch had not yet dissipated. In fact, it seemed to be growing worse. The soft synthetic-cotton shirt whispered over her breasts, kissing the taut skin of her nipples, making them bud into tender nubs. The sheet glided over her legs like silk rubbing against silk.

Against her will, unwanted, impossibly urgent, and undeniably carnal desire pooled between her legs.

A panicky whimper rushed past her lungs. She reached under the hem of her shirt to alleviate the pressure, but it soon became clear there would be no end to this torture.

She’d felt physical need before, but nothing like this. It was as if release was detrimental to her sanity. As though if she didn’t orgasm soon, she’d explode.

* * *

Mace sank his fangs into the dazed waitress he’d lured into the dark alley behind the late-night diner. She let out a little moan from the erotic effect of his bite, making the trade of blood beneficial to both parties. It wasn’t sexual on his part, not this time.

It was necessity.

Breathing in Cora’s essence had brought forth his true nature, his hunger…as well as his inexplicable animalistic desire for her. Yet the woman who fed him now did nothing for him. She looked wrong, she sounded wrong, she even smelled wrong. Nonetheless, he needed to slake his hunger before returning to the motel room.

Not that he doubted himself around Cora. He could control baser instincts better than most. But still, Cora did something to him that he couldn’t describe, made him crave more than just her vein and a quick fuck.

Giving her his blood hadn’t helped matters. A connection was always formed with the blood-gift, which was why it was so rarely done, and always with a mutual understanding of what to expect.

Taking from humans was a different matter. There was little to no risk of solidifying a bond. Ultimately, their essence wasn’t strong enough to leave a lasting mark. Taking from other vampires, however? That was a whole other bag of problems. Mace, himself, had never shared blood with one of his own kind. Bonds like that went both ways and, depending on the strength of the vampires and the frequency of the act, took longer to fade.

Whatever nexus Cora gleaned from his blood would resemble the spirit with which it was given and wouldn’t last more than a few weeks. If anything it should help her to trust him, at least for the time being.

He hoped she hadn’t ingested too much, though. Her wound had appeared worse, slathered in her own blood, than his examination had revealed. The good news was that it should heal fairly quickly and leave no scar behind. However, too much vampire blood, without proper faculty, would overload the system and bring on…specific urges.

He sucked the woman’s vein more deeply.

He’d suspected as much when he’d been cleaning Cora’s wound. The massage, he had to admit, had been a misstep. He wasn’t the only one to become aroused.

He needed to be strong, mentally prepared, to deal with the situation in a detached, chivalrous manner. There was no doubt in his mind she would never trust him again if he couldn’t manage that. Not to mention, if he took advantage of her now, it would enforce her already forged hatred of his kind.

Not nearly satisfied, but no longer thirsty, he compelled the waitress to forget him and sent her on her way. He retrieved the to-go bag that he’d ordered beforehand and walked the twenty yards back to the eclectic single level motel with cracked faded paint and burned-out parking lamps. The lot was empty but for the stolen motorcycle in front of room one-oh-three and what looked like the husk of a pre-uprising hick-mobile. Rust eaten and dilapidated, the truck perched at the end of the lot like a sad memorial to bygone days.

When he entered the room, Mace was relieved to find Cora already in bed. Her head was sandwiched between two pillows with her arm slung over the top. Maybe he hadn’t given her too much of his blood after all.

He crossed to the table and set the food down.

“Mace?”

The tremors in Cora’s voice made him go tense. She peeked at him from under the pillow. From what he could see of her expression under her fluffy shield, she appeared to be in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Something’s wrong. I feel…I’m…I can’t…”

Mace squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit.” Definitely too much blood. The scent of her desire invaded his nostrils. He clutched the back of a nearby chair. The aroma was like an electroshock wake-up call to the section of his brain that was purely primordial. He went instantly hard. His fangs lengthened, more from anticipation than hunger.

Cora continued sputtering, her cheeks flaming. “I-I…need to…” She let out a frustrated sound and buried her face back in the pillow.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “It’s my blood that’s affecting you now. It should pass in a few hours.”

She smashed the pillow into her face with her palm and exhaled a protesting scream. Then she flung the pillow away. “A few hours? I can’t stand this a second longer. I ne…uh…need your help. Need you to make it stop.”

He shook his head, pity burrowing into his gut.

“Please.” She squirmed uncomfortably under the covers.

“I won’t do that. You wouldn’t be happy about it in the morning.”

Her lip quivered. “Please, Mason. I’m going to go insane.”

Generally, Mace thought of himself as a vigilant, uncompromising individual, but he had never wanted to fold so quickly.

“Cora,” he warned. “Think on this. You know you don’t want me touching you.”

She started to respond, but he tuned her out. He had to put some distance between him and the sweet scent of her arousal. The bathroom wasn’t far enough, but he wouldn’t risk leaving her alone in this state.

He ran the tap and splashed cool water on his face. When he reached for a towel, he found, instead, a soft bit of cloth. He fingered the material and let out a guttural sound. Christ, she was out there in bed, no panties, and begging for his cock. Even if he didn’t have a special attraction to her, any man would be hard-pressed to resist.

Her moaning pleas assaulted him mercilessly from the other room. She sounded both tormented and salacious—the sweetest sound that had ever graced his ears. He braced his palms on the counter and lowered his head, cursing. Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t be able to deny her for another minute, let alone a few hours.

He reentered the room a defeated man, but Cora’s pleas continued uninterrupted. Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes. It broke his heart.

“Mason, please,” she implored, looking miserable.

“Coraline.” He paused at the edge of the bed. “I don’t want you to hate me for this in the morning.”

“I won’t hate you. I won’t even be mad. I promise. Please…I’ve never felt like this before. It’s too much.” She shoved the blankest away and ripped the shirt over her head, tossing it to the ground.

Normally she was a little shy and reserved. He always liked that about her. Now she was completely lost to lust, and fuck if he didn’t like that too.

Selfishly, he feasted on the vision of her lush curves, while at the same time feeling like a deviant. She crawled toward him, stopping with her knees on the edge of the bed, her hands urgently roaming his chest and shoulders.

This wasn’t her. This wasn’t the kind, bashful female he had come to know over the last few months. He realized in this moment, he would take her in any form.

But only with her full, rational consent.

She reached for his fly and had his zipper down before his body caught up with his resolve. He stayed her hand. She responded with a tiny sound that bordered on a sob, her beautiful eyes pained.

“I won’t be having sex with you tonight, Coraline. But,” he added swiftly, before she completely lost her shit, “there are other options. Ones that you might approve of later, when you’re in your right mind.”

“Like?” she urged.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. He brought his hand up to rest his palm on her cheek while his thumb caressed her bottom lip. Unabashedly, she sucked his thumb into her mouth.

The little witch nearly broke him then and there.

With his free hand, he clutched the hair at her nape, and slowly extracted his thumb. Cora froze. Somewhere deep beneath the predominant lust, there was fear behind her eyes. His extended fangs probably didn’t help that.

However, he didn’t loosen his hold. “I want it noted that I could have had you any way I wanted, and you would’ve begged me for more, but I restrained myself. For now, stay still while I make you come.”

Before she could manage a response, he gripped the backs of her knees and yanked her body out from under her. Her back met the mattress, leaving her legs spread wide for him, her ass hanging over the edge of the mattress. Foreplay was obsolete at the moment. He knelt to the floor and placed his mouth directly on her heated core. They both groaned in unison. The exquisite fragrance of her arousal penetrated his mind, making him drunk with the need to hear her scream from pleasure.

Deliriously, he laved her tender folds, sucking her clitoris between his teeth, mindful of his throbbing fangs. The urgent sounds she made had his cock straining painfully against his partly undone jeans. He shoved the material down and ran his palm over the length of his shaft as his tongue rode her undulating hips. She was utterly lost now, writhing, taking from his willing mouth what she needed.

He pumped his fist in rhythm with her movements. Her body shuddered violently, mindlessly, from their cresting passion. In the next instant, a harsh cry erupted from her. She barricaded a hand over her mouth. Mace was on the verge of following her climax and continued his sensual assault.

Too late, he realized this was ready to cross a line he hadn’t intended.

As Cora cried out from a second orgasm, the beast in him took over. He turned his face toward her inner thigh and sank his fangs deep. Cora’s moan deepened, her body arching as if an electric jolt had seized it.

His mouth filled with her succulent blood. Euphoria scrambled his brain. All his thoughts reduced to mush. All but one: she tasted better than he could have ever imagined.

His ecstasy slowly abated, leaving behind an almost mind-crippling pleasure. His orgasm came so fiercely, his vision faltered. It took him a moment to realize he’d removed his fangs from her thigh and was hunched over, his hands on the floor, trying to cope with the intensity of what had just happened.

Absently, he muttered, “Every bit of you is like heaven on my tongue. You have me addicted already.”

He could hear short gasps coming from her as she hurriedly slipped her shirt back over her head. If he hadn’t just experienced essentially what amounted to a swift kick to his mind’s balls, he probably would have seen what was coming.

Propelling off the bed, she threw the door open wide and rushed outside before the knob ricocheted off the wall and the door slammed shut behind her.

“Shit.” He buttoned his fly and raced after her.

She hadn’t gotten far, just to the middle of the lot. When he closed his arms around her torso from behind, she screamed and began kicking her legs wildly.

“Calm yourself,” he ordered, finding no trouble holding onto her.

“Let me go!”

“I can’t do that,” he replied in a reasonable tone, his body still thrumming with pleasure.

She sniffed and let out a terrible sob, all the while thrashing in his grip. He wasn’t worried about the noise. This was a deeply rural area where people kept to themselves.

He dragged her back inside the room and caged her with his body against the closed door, locking gazes with her. “Relax and calm down.” He pushed only the slightest bit of compulsion into the command, hating to have to resort to that much. When she didn’t respond, he tried again with a bit more zeal.

Still nothing.

Her face was red, panic stricken, and streaked with tears. Her thrashing continued.

Pushing the full force of his compulsion into his voice, he growled, “Stop crying.”

A sob filtered through her lungs, and her tears came harder.

He cocked his head. “What the fuck?”

That’s when she went utterly still, as though she’d come to a terrifying realization. She peeked up at him through tear soaked eyes.

“Rheol Eithriad?” he gasped. The exception to the rule. Otherwise known as, Lurela: a person that cannot be compelled. He’d never come across one before. Of course his first would have to be Cora! “Dammit all to hell.”

Although she seemed to be calming, weighing his reaction—which told him she knew about her natural resistance—the look in her eye said she would run from him at the first opportunity.

How could she be so upset after the blissful, mind-rocking experience they’d just shared? Religions were built around such things. His masculine pride took a pile-drive to the gut.

He glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning.” Maybe then he could muster up an authentic apology. Right now it would seem insincere to her ears, especially because it would be. “We have a ways to go tomorrow, and we both need to get some sleep.”

He released her and pointed to the bed.

She looked at it and mumbled, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

His mood darkened even more. “I don’t think so. You’ll just try to run when I fall asleep.”

“No, I won’t.” She lied so easily.

“I’m not taking the chance.” He guided her by the elbow to the bed.

Thankfully, she appeared to be out of defiance for the moment. She crawled onto the mattress and pulled the covers around her like a cocoon, then placed a pillow in the middle of the bed as a barrier between them.

After shutting off the light and claiming the opposite side of the bed, he snatched her faux wall and disgruntledly shoved it under his head. Then he reached under her refuge of blankets, hooked his arm around her waist to pull her flush against him.

“What are you doing?” She brazenly swatted at his arm and bowed away from him.

“It’s either this, or I tie you up for the night. Your choice.”

“I prefer to be tied up, then.”

“I lied. It’s my choice. Go to sleep.”

Cora cosigned herself to Mace’s arms and settled in. She didn’t have much of a choice. She was just glad this was the only retaliation for her attempted escape, which had been spurred by his powerfully erotic snuffing of her lust. She had been too surprised to think straight.

Humans had once thought of vampires as cold, undead creatures, who required blood to survive. Mason was anything but cold at the moment. The warmth of his body seeped into her back, as did his pulse, which was noticeably slower than hers—adrenaline still spiked wildly in her veins.

No, vampires were flesh and blood, same as humans. Whether evolved or otherworldly was debatable, but definitely top of the food chain.

Currently, she was on the bottom, right underneath krill.

As for needing blood to survive? That part was all too true.

As Cora lay there, immersed in one of her greatest nightmares, she evaluated the end of her life as she knew it. Mace now knew she could not be compelled by him or, as far as she could tell, any other vampire. She could not be made to forget the salacious act they’d just shared, the location of wherever it was he intended to take her, or this whole illegal vampire blood business.

She’d been inclined to hope for a swift and immediate death when this fiasco was over…but now? Now he would claim her, take her to his clan and demand to keep her, just as Edgar had.

For the sole purpose of being cruel, Edgar had explained in gory detail what happened to lone humans amongst vampires. And it all started with a bite.

Well, Mace had bitten her.

And once her brain had pushed past the unexpected and consuming pleasure of it, the realization had made her rash. She couldn’t believe she tried to run from him—the stupidest thing one could do in the presence of a vampire. They were animalistic by nature. Running only invoked their urge to chase, to hunt.

Edgar had explained that as well, which was why she’d been too scared to attempt an escape, and she’d been too scared to run the instant his commander had told her to go, directly after having killed Edgar.

That fear may have actually saved her life that day. More than one vamp had studied her with glossy-eyed interest as she’d turned and forced her feet into slow but sure action, counting the steps till she was outside the old abandoned building.

The heat of the sun in mid-day on her skin had lifted her spirits like nothing else ever had, even though vampires were not hindered by it—another false rumor that had spread through humanity. They could have still gone after her if they’d wanted.

But they hadn’t.

Still, it had been several months till she felt out of danger. Even then, she treaded with more caution than a field mouse in an aviary if she even imagined a vampire might be near.

She should have been just as cautious of humans, she supposed. Among others, Winston had found her easy enough to take advantage of. She’d been so enamored with him and his elaborate life-style, she’d turned a blind eye to the warning signs. It was too easy now to look back and recognize the reality of the situation. Especially that time she had tried to refuse that glass of wine he’d offered her after she’d injured her ankle. He had been livid and practically forced the wine down her throat.

How many times had he fed her blood and waited to see if it would make her ill, or worse, kill her? How many times had she brushed off the fact that she healed far too rapidly than should’ve been expected?

She didn’t know how long she ran through every scenario, berating herself for each one, but eventually her mind eased till she nodded off completely.