by Larissa Ione
“Do you think you can run?”
She just stared at him, her gold-spoked blue eyes wide.
“Hello?” He waved his hand in front of her face. “Can you run?”
“Y-yes.” She took a single step—and passed out.
“Son of a—”
He caught her before she hit the ground, threw her over his shoulder, and asked the Great Spirit above for a safe journey. They had a long way to go and no guarantees that they’d get there.
AYLIN WOKE TO the sensation of cool water caressing her forehead. She opened her eyes and nearly screamed at the sight of the huge vampire hovering over her, but a heartbeat later, she recognized the strikingly handsome face of the MoonBound male who had rescued her from the humans.
His sculpted, rugged features, combined with skin the color of rich sandstone, announced his Native American heritage, and he radiated a deadly aura even though she didn’t see a weapon on him. Well, those massive fangs were weapons, and from a feminine standpoint, so was his tongue.
That tongue had soothed the cut on her thigh.
An intense, heated shiver went through her at the memory. She’d been woozy and nauseated from blood loss and pain, and yet when his warm tongue had stroked her skin, he’d simultaneously eased her hurt and awakened something sinful inside her. She’d been both afraid and fascinated, and for a moment, she hadn’t cared about her future or her past. Hadn’t even cared about the present, where humans were hunting them. All that had mattered was the fact that for the first time ever, a male had tasted her blood.
What had Riker called him? Roland? She frowned. That didn’t sound right.
Roger, Riker had said, clapping him on the shoulder. Good hunting.
Okay, so . . . Roger wasn’t much better. Strange name for a born vampire with Native American heritage.
“Hey,” he said gruffly. “I was starting to worry. You’ve been out for hours.”
Hours? It had been hours since they’d fled from the humans? She sat up with a start and nearly whacked her head on the wooden frame of the bunk bed above her. Where were they, anyway? Where was Rasha?
“My sister—”
“She’s fine.” Roger’s deep voice rumbled through her in a wave of pure pleasure as he held up his cell phone. A text message from someone named Takis flashed on the screen.
Female is safe. Recovered their belongings as well. We lost George, but we got the heart of the fucker who killed him. We’re holed up in the caves for now. Stay where you are until the storm passes.
“Thank you. For both of us.” Relieved that Rasha was safe, she released the tense breath she’d been holding. “I’m sorry about George.”
Roger snorted. “Are you? Your clan nearly tortured him to death fifteen years ago. We had to trade a month’s worth of packaged blood to get him back, and his jaw never did heal right.”
She remembered that now. His pain had been the dinner entertainment for weeks, and she’d had nightmares for months. Since there was no good way to reply to what Roger said, she changed the subject. Fast. “Where are we?”
He lounged back on the mattress, propping his shoulder against a wooden bunk support post. “One of MoonBound’s hunting cabins.”
To keep from looking at him and the way one long leg was cocked up with his booted foot on the bed frame and the other was stretched out to the floor, she checked out the cozy one-room building.
Sparsely decorated, it contained the log-frame bunk bed she was currently in, a beat-up futon, an icebox, a wood stove, and, on the walls, dozens of weapons that ranged from bows and arrows to hatchets and daggers.
She smoothed her hand over the fur bedcover. “Aren’t you concerned about humans finding it?”
“The cabins are warded to repel humans, but that’s mostly a paranoid precaution. This is private property.”
She eyed him warily. Was he trying to trick her? “Vampires can’t own property.”
“No,” he said bitterly, “because to humans, we are property.” He shifted, cocking his knee up even more, revealing a tantalizing bulge between his legs. Aylin, who always felt cold, began to sweat. “We own land under the name of a dummy corporation. It’s where we store our vehicles and meet with our human courier.”
“Human . . . courier?”
He nodded. “He brings us things we can’t get ourselves and sets up services like cell-phone accounts.”
Completely floored, she just stared. “So you have vehicles and a human servant?” She’d heard of such things, but as followers of the Raven way of life, ShadowSpawn didn’t believe in most human conveniences, and they certainly wouldn’t work with humans.
“Our human agent comes from a family that has been helping us for centuries, since before humans even learned of our existence.”
“Oh.” Interesting. And practical. Her father scorned vampires who relied on humans for anything but blood, but Aylin figured that staying current with the ways of the people who outnumbered vampires so badly was smart. She’d even said as much once.
Once.
She could still feel the sting of her father’s backhanded blow for that error in judgment.
Roger’s hand bumped the bandage he must have wrapped around her thigh while she slept, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Males never touched her. Especially not her leg. Even an accidental touch got extreme reactions, as if her birth defect was contagious. But this was the second time he’d put his hands on her, and he’d done it without freaking out.
“Sorry,” he said, pulling his hand back. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” she lied. Oh, the wound itself felt fine, and thanks to Roger, it was probably nearly healed by now. But a deep ache had settled into her bones. Winter storms always affected her leg like that. On the coldest days, she sometimes couldn’t even walk. Since clan law stated that anyone unable to make it on his or her own to the dinner table couldn’t eat, she would have starved if Rasha hadn’t smuggled food to her bedchamber.
He gestured to her leg. “It bled a lot for such a shallow wound. You remember Nicole? Our female your clan threatened to hold prisoner? When we get back to MoonBound, I want her to take a look at it.”
Yeah, she wasn’t real proud of how her clan had treated the female, but she doubted that apologizing would do any good. “That’s not necessary. I’m fine.”
“It’s not a request.”
Anger flared, bright and hot. She was used to having no freedom of choice at ShadowSpawn, but immediately after Rasha mated with Hunter, Aylin was going to become a prisoner in a harem. Which meant that for the next month, she wasn’t going to put up with being ordered around. “Look,” she said firmly, “I’m grateful for all you did to rescue us. But that doesn’t give you the right to make decisions for me. MoonBound isn’t my clan.”
Roger’s black eyes went utterly flat. “So that’s how this is going to go? Life at MoonBound is going to suck for you if keep the ShadowSpawn princess attitude.”
ShadowSpawn princess? She barely contained hysterical laughter. Instead, she clapped her hand over her abdomen as a hungry rumble rose up.
Roger lost a little of his angry edge and glanced at her belly. “We keep emergency food supplies here. I have hot water on the stove . . . I think we have soup packets and hot cocoa, too.” He shoved to his feet and popped the lid off a chest at the foot of the bed. “And we have enough alcohol to start our own vampire nightclub.”
Unaccustomed to such attention, Aylin could only shake her head, even though her stomach was growling.
He swiped a bottle of whiskey from the chest and twisted off the top. “Are our emergency supplies not up to ShadowSpawn princess standards?”
“Yes,” she said dryly. “That’s exactly the problem. No caviar and champagne.”
“Maybe you should feed.” He took a massive swig from the bottle, and she couldn’t look away
from the play of his throat muscles as he swallowed. “You lost a lot of blood. It’ll help you heal.”
Her fangs punched down, and her mouth watered madly. No one had ever offered his blood to her. Hell, at moon-fever time, the males drew straws to see who had to feed her. Short straw was the loser, the person who had to offer his wrist. It was humiliating. She’d always dreaded that one day a month during the new moon when the thirst for male vampire blood became an urgent and life-sustaining requirement.
And on the night of the full moon, when males must feed from a female vampire, Aylin never had to participate. ShadowSpawn males would sooner starve than stick their fangs in her flesh.
Drinking cripple blood is bad luck.
The Great Raven cursed her in the womb. Those who feed from her will suffer the same curse.
You shouldn’t touch her blood, let alone drink it.
Yep, she’d heard it all.
“I . . . ah . . . I’m fine.” Determined to prove her point, she swung her legs off the bed and stood. So far, so good. But when she took her first step, her right foot caught the edge of an uneven floorboard, and her leg, already compromised by the cold and the injury, buckled.
Arms came around her, and in a dizzying flash of speed, Roger plopped her down onto the futon and kneeled on the floor in front of her. Damn, he was gorgeous. He was beautifully male, built of lean muscle and sturdy bones, a perfect blend of sleek athlete and powerful warrior.
And his hair . . . good Lord, she’d never seen hair so black and glossy; in the weak light from the corner lamp, it shone blue. His eyes were nearly as dark, but what they shone with was anger.
“You aren’t fine, and you’re an idiot if you let pride keep you from accepting help.”
It wasn’t pride, but she wasn’t about to tell a complete stranger that she didn’t know how to handle his overtures. Usually, if she was the focus of attention, it was the negative kind. “I’m not an idiot.”
“You’re a warrior,” he said gruffly, “and in my clan, any warrior who refuses help when they need it takes a month of kitchen duty and skips a moon feeding. Because they were idiots.”
He thought she was a warrior? Clearly, Roger hadn’t heard that Aylin was a curse on her family and the shame of ShadowSpawn. And kitchen duty as punishment? Pfft. Slaving in the kitchen was her full-time job. Punishment at ShadowSpawn was swift and brutal, and she couldn’t remember a single year that hadn’t seen at least one execution. “I said—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he drawled. “You said you aren’t an idiot. Prove it.” He tilted his head to the side, exposing his vein. “Feed.”
Every cell in her body quivered with excitement at the prospect of nourishment and healing. “Fine,” she said wearily. “Give me your wrist.”
One ebony eyebrow shot up. “I don’t do wrists.”
He cupped the back of her neck with his big, warm hand, and pleasant tingles spread across her skin as he gently but firmly drew her head toward him. His gaze held her in place even more effectively than his grip, and she swore she even saw a glint of anticipation in his espresso eyes.
“Take it.” His voice was soft, but there was a guttural undertone in it that made her shiver with feminine appreciation.
Her heart pounded, and her pulse raced as she got closer. She thought about fighting him . . . but it dawned on her that there really was no reason to do that. Just pride, as he’d said. And the truth was that she was hungry, not just for blood but to know the feel of a male’s hard body against hers, even if it was only because she was drinking from him.
Leaning in, she tentatively gripped his shoulders to steady herself. He slid his hand up, tangling his fist in her hair as she put her lips against his smooth skin. Her fangs tingled, and when she opened her mouth over his vein, they throbbed to the beat of his pulse.
She was really going to do this, wasn’t she? For the first time in her life, she was going to feed the way vampires were meant to. She’d waited so long for this, hadn’t been sure it would ever happen. Not when every male she’d ever fed from had literally kept her at arm’s length.
Suddenly, she jerked back. “Why?” she rasped. “Why are you doing this? I’m your enemy. And I’m . . . cursed.”
“Cursed?” He smiled tightly. “We’ll share curse stories when we get back to MoonBound. As for the rest? We might be enemies, but now I’m responsible for you. You need to be at full strength for our trip to headquarters after the storm lets up.” He urged her mouth down to his throat again. “I won’t let my clan down.”
Aylin wondered if any of the males at ShadowSpawn would say something like that, about not letting the clan down. Then she realized she didn’t care. Not when the biggest, most handsome male she’d ever seen was holding her against him, urging her to sink her fangs into his vein.
She didn’t need any more urging. This was her moment. Closing her eyes, she tapped her tongue on the roof of her mouth behind each fang, releasing a chemical that numbed the pain of the bite and intensified the pleasure. The tips of her fangs punched through his skin, and he hissed. His hiss trailed into a groan that mingled with hers as his essence flowed over her tongue.
Great Spirit above, she’d never tasted anything like this. He was smoky and rich and electric, as if power flowed in his veins instead of blood. A jolt of pure energy sang through her, making her body buzz to vibrant life. Her skin prickled, her breasts ached, and between her legs, wetness bloomed.
Closer. She had to get closer to him.
Moaning, she dug her nails into his shoulders and tightened her thighs around his waist. He stiffened, and for a split second, she thought he’d pull away.
She dug her nails in harder. No way. She might not be a warrior, but she could still plunder. She was a female who had been let off her chain for the first time in her life, and she was going to take everything she could in the short time she had.
Everything.
DAMN, BUT THIS female was not what Hunter had expected. He’d seen Rasha a couple of times, had also been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue. He’d hated her instantly, and the feeling had been mutual, so when he’d grabbed her at the humans’ camp and brought her to the cabin, he’d expected her to fight him about everything. Hell, he’d expected her to wake up swinging. He’d figured he’d have to watch his back for months. Maybe years.
Instead, so far, she’d been almost . . . pleasant.
It had to be a trick.
Or maybe now that she was away from her clan, and her father, she was a different person.
Hunter understood that more than he’d like to. His relationship with his own parents had been rocky at best, filled with hate at worst.
She arched her back, driving her pelvis into his, and suddenly, he didn’t care if it was a trick or not. He’d have been happy never to have sex with her, but hey, if she wanted to start this relationship now, he could deal. Fucking was fucking, and clan business was clan business. He’d been prepared to separate the two for the rest of his life with Rasha, but maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t have to live like two angry cats in a cage.
The caress of her mouth as she sucked on his neck felt connected to his cock, and behind the fly of his jeans, he got rock-hard. The scent of her arousal, sweet and musky, rose all around him, ramping up his desire to toss her onto the futon and drive into her until they heated up the tiny cabin with the fury of their lust.
With one hand still tangled in her silky hair, he dropped his other to her butt and hauled her more tightly against him. His erection met her core as he lifted them both onto the futon, being careful not to jostle her mouth away from his throat. He wanted her to take as much as she could, as much as she needed, and nothing was better than sex during feeding. When two vampires were connected that way, it was a closed circuit that delivered full-body orgasms like nothing else.
“Keep feeding,” he whispered.
She was being much gentler than he thought she’d be. Rasha had always struck him as the sex-is-a-battle type of vampire, a female who would never give any male an inch of advantage, even in bed.
Especially in bed.
Cradling her head against his throat, he smoothed his hand up to her slim waist and over her rib cage. Her warmth radiated through her T-shirt, and her desire radiated from her entire body as he swept his thumb across the swell of her breast.
She gasped, breaking the seal on his throat, and a wet rivulet flowed down his skin. Her tongue flicked out to catch the stream, licking upward in a lazy, sensual stroke. When she reached the puncture from her bite, she latched on again, drawing like she was starving. He shouted at the ecstasy of it and thrust against her as though he was already inside her.
“Keep doing that.” His voice was a guttural rasp he could barely hear over the sound of his pulse drumming in his ears. “Harder. Suck me harder.”
A petite snarl rose in her throat, and if he thought he’d been hard before, now he went painfully rod-stiff. His balls joined the party, throbbing and aching inside the prison of his denim pants.
“That’s it, Rasha.” He closed his palm over her breast. “Fuck, yeah, just . . . like . . . that.”
She went taut. Her lips quivered against his throat, and then suddenly, she was wedging her hands between their bodies and shoving against him. “Get off me.”
Baffled, his brain clouded by lust, he blinked. “What?”
“Get off me!” she shouted.
Whoa, what had triggered her psycho switch? He reared back onto his knees, and she scrambled out from under him until she was backed against the log wall. Panic and fear and . . . hurt? . . . turned the blue of her eyes murky.
