Her eyes—he could see them perfectly in the dark, a werewolf perk—narrowed on him. “Why do you taste like dessert?” Iona wanted to know.
He deliberately let his eyes widen. “Because I’m awesome?”
Her eyes had become golden slits. “What have you done?”
Aw, their hot moment was about to be over. Pity. His hand was still just inside of her jeans. So close to the flesh he wanted to touch.
She seemed to realize exactly how close his fingers were to her sex because she gave a little growl and pushed him back a good five feet.
Not inside her jeans anymore.
Iona yanked up the zipper and fixed the snap in an instant. “You thought to fuck me?”
Hoped, not thought, but he lifted his hands and shrugged. “You thought to drain me?” Jamie tossed back.
She growled again. Sexy. “Wolf,” she snarled, “I gave you a chance to live. You should have just stayed away from me.”
“Can’t do that.” Time for her to realize just how much her life had changed. “If I do, you die.”
She laughed at that. “What? Are you some sort of protector?”
Not hardly.
“Are you going to keep me safe from all the other big, bad wolves out there?”
“No.” Flat.
She blinked at that. A faint furrow appeared between her brows.
Jamie rubbed his chin. Time for some fast facts. “The human tasted like crap to you because you can’t handle his blood—”
“I’m a vampire,” said with a long sigh, as if speaking to a clueless child, “I can handle anyone’s blood.”
He risked a step toward her. His boots crunched on the gravel beneath him. “Not anymore you can’t.” Okay, she’d flip over this, but he figured it was best to just get it out there. “You see, your body’s tuned now. It’s only gonna want one thing. Can only accept one thing…”
Her head tilted as she studied him. “Tuned?” Her lips tightened in distaste. “I don’t know what you’re rambling about.”
“To survive, you need blood.” It was a simple fact of the undead life for a vampire. To keep existing, a vampire had to take in sustenance. Blood. And, usually, any blood would work to sustain a vamp.
But not for her. Not anymore.
“You were put under a spell,” he said this part quietly, with a hint of sympathy, because the spell had been a real bitch for her.
Her hands fisted. “I was there. I remember. You don’t have to tell me, wolf.”
The woman had more than a touch of arrogance. Probably because, if the stories were true, she actually had once been a queen.
“An alpha werewolf’s blood put you under the spell.” Here was the dicey part. But, really, what could she do to him? Without just hurting herself in return? “That meant only the blood of another alpha wolf could wake you.” And break the spell.
“So you’re an alpha. I’m so impressed,” she murmured, sounding not even the tiniest bit like she cared. A car horn honked in the distance. The wind kept brushing over them. Near the back of the bar, a chime tossed music into the air. Iona shoved back her hair. “It’s not like I haven’t met and killed a dozen of your kind before.”
Except for Latham. She hadn’t killed him. If she had, then neither of them would be having these problems right then.
“There was just one little rule about breaking your spell…” Jamie kept his voice flat when his own anger wanted to stir. He had helped the woman. As far as she knew, he was just being a good Samaritan. Had Iona even offered a thank you to him? He cleared his throat. “The wolf that woke you…”
“I wasn’t asleep!”
He ignored that, for now. She’d sure looked asleep—no, dead—to him. “You’d only crave the blood of the wolf that freed you from the spell.” He studied her, then said, “‘It will taste like wine to you…’” Now he was doing a direct quote from what a witch-in-the-know had told him during his search for the Blood Queen. Before Iona speak, he finished the last of that witch’s quote, “‘While the blood of others will never satisfy your hunger.’”
She grabbed him. In all of his years, he’d never seen a vampire move as quickly as she did in that one instant. “You’d better by lying.” Her fists had clenched around his shirt. The material was in danger of ripping at any moment.
He gave her a big smile, knowing that his dimple would flash. “Baby, would I lie to you? I’m the wolf who saved you.”
Her fists clenched even harder as she dug her nails into his shirt.
He kept his eyes on hers. Jamie said, “I’m also the man who’ll keep you alive. My blood. It’s what you need. What you’ll always crave.” He felt like he was driving nails into the vamp’s coffin. In a way, he was. He was also enjoying himself. Iona was about to realize just how much she needed him. “So it’s in your best interest to make sure that I live a very, very long life.”
The shirt began to tear. “You’ll never live as long as me.”
Normally, no. But their situation wasn’t exactly normal. “I will live as long as you give me your own sweet blood.” The beast inside had always enjoyed a taste for blood. And hers blood was the most powerful that he’d ever had.
Her gaze held his. “You want my blood?”
“I kinda have to get it, in order for us both to keep living.” He kept his face blank. She couldn’t know the real reason why he wanted her blood. That wonderful power boost that he’d get from it. The boost that would make him strong enough to take out Latham.
Because Latham had also been feeding on vamps.
The secret was out in the paranormal world. Thanks to the mating of a few werewolves and vampires, folks had realized that if you wanted a power surge, you had to get very, very intimate with those who’d once been your sworn enemies.
Since Iona had been sleeping during that time of revelation, she didn’t realize just how hot of a commodity her blood had become to the werewolves of the world.
Blood as old as hers, as powerful…and it’s all mine.
Jamie knew his smile had widened. He couldn’t help it. Everything was falling into perfect place for him.
“Liar.” Barely a breath from her. A breath that was full of burning fury. “One bad human doesn’t mean I’m stuck with you. He was probably on drugs. I always hated the taste of drugs in a human’s blood.”
But she wasn’t letting him go, and Jamie wondered if, deep down, she already knew the truth.
Then he caught the scent of blood. Heard the softest tread of footsteps. His head jerked up. His nostrils flared.
Five men. Though not actually men. Not human.
Coming their way.
The same knowledge was in her eyes.
“Company,” he told her as he drew in the scents of the night.
Her head turned to the left, away from the faint lights from the parking lot and toward the darkness of the woods that waited. Her body seemed to tense against his. “Yours?”
“No.” But it was company he’d expected. Just not quite so soon. “Don’t worry,” he told her, as he pushed her behind his body. She went easily enough, probably more from surprise than anything else. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
Five against one. He could handle these odds in his sleep.
Especially since he’d taken some of her blood. Hmmm…maybe he could even consider this as a test run. To see just how much strength her blood would truly give him.
The others were coming in fast now. Time to change. Time to show Iona just who—what—she was dealing with in this battle.
The fire of the change swept through his body. It wasn’t some light, easy shift. It was brutal. As savage as the beast he carried. His bones snapped. His muscles tore and reshaped. Fur seemed to explode along his flesh. He hit the ground, but when his palms slapped against the cement, they were already transforming into the powerful paws of a wolf.
Iona stood behind him, and the fast pants of her breath echoed in his ears.
The werewolves were coming for her. He knew it. Once the spell holding Iona had broken, Latham’s witch would have told him the news. And Latham would have sent out his attack dogs.
Too bad. You can’t have her back.
Their “company” broke from the trees. Two black wolves. Two gray. One white.
Latham’s foot soldiers—wolf soldiers.
Jamie barred his teeth and didn’t wait for them to come lunging at him in an attack. He sprang toward them, more than ready to draw first blood.
The sounds of the vicious snarls and howls filled her ears. The waves were crashing close by, and the music still blared from the bar, so the humans probably weren’t even aware of the bloody battle going on so close to their safe little world.
Iona was too aware.
Jamie wasn’t a man any longer. But she knew that, in truth, he’d never been a man. That had just been a surface lie. Werewolves were always more beasts than men.
He was in the form of a big, fierce, black wolf now. A wolf that was easily twice the size of the others he attacked. A wolf that drew blood with his claws and his razor-sharp teeth and seemed to love the savagery of the fight.
No hesitation. No fear.
Two of his enemies were already on the ground.
A third would be out of the battle soon.
It appeared that Jamie was a true werewolf alpha.
Iona turned away from the battle. Alphas had always annoyed her. Maybe because she liked to be the alpha, too.
Whatever. She would leave Jamie’s lying beast to his own ends. He could handle the others—and she could find a human to eat. I’ll prove him wrong.
She just needed more blood. There was still a weakness in her limbs that she couldn’t allow. When she faced Latham—oh, I’ll see you dead soon—she had to be at full strength.
A wolf’s sharp cry pierced the air behind her. For just an instant, she hesitated and looked back. Jamie had taken out the white wolf. The beast was on his side, and she knew the dark shadow spreading on his coat was blood.
Jamie stood over his fallen prey, with his big body heaving. The wolf’s eyes—that same, piercing green—were on her.
I won’t let them hurt you. His words whispered through her mind.
As if she needed his protection. Her chin lifted. She’d walk back into the bar. Find another, non-drugged man to sample, and Jamie could fight his little blood battles.
A familiar scent teased her nose. Iona’s body stiffened.
Then a rumble of thunder broke the air. Jamie—his wolf—staggered back. More thunder rumbled. No, not thunder, a gunshot. Jamie hit the ground.
She was running toward him before she’d even realized what was happening. The other wolves had scattered back, but when they saw her rushing forward, the grey beast tossed his head and howled.
Blood.
And…Iona inhaled deeply, wondering about that other heavy, too thick scent in the air. A scent that was metallic, like…
Jamie was shifting before her. She’d never seen a wolf shift so quickly. Except for one time when her vamp coven had attacked invading wolves with silver. Silver could always force a fast change for a werewolf.
The beast was gone. On the ground, Jamie sprawled as a man. Bullet holes were in his chest. Her eyesight was perfect in the dark, probably even better than his, and Iona saw that he appeared to be bleeding in rivulets of silver.
Liquid silver? Was that the weapon of choice against werewolves these days?
Jamie’s claws drove into his own chest, and he yanked out a handful of silver. A brutal move that had the breath freezing in her lungs. Then he did it again, to the other bullet hole.
“Can’t…get it all…” His voice was barely human. “Liquid…in my blood…”
Yes, it would be. Unlike a solid silver bullet, the liquid silver would pour through him.
“I’ll…die…”
She realized that his head was in her lap. Iona didn’t remember sliding her knees under him. Why had she even come to check on him? The shooter could still be out there. The shooter could come for her.
She should run. Leave. Hunt.
Not lean over him and brush the hair from his forehead, but, sure enough, she saw her own trembling fingers sliding thought that thick, dark hair.
What is wrong with me?
“If I die…” It certainly looked like the wolf was close to death. Jamie growled, then managed, “So…do you…”
She gazed down at him. She knew what others said about her. She was evil. Wicked. Without a soul.
And maybe some of those stories were true. But in this one instance…
Iona brushed her lips over his. A soft kiss. Gentle. Their first kiss.
It seemed strange to have it here, with blood around them.
It seemed strange to have the kiss after she’d already taken his blood.
But maybe it was fitting.
The kiss was light, but she enjoyed the taste of his lips almost as much as she’d enjoyed his blood.
Perhaps the werewolf could prove to be addictive to her.
And, maybe, she’d show him just how addictive she could be.
Her mouth lifted from his, a few inches. “What makes you think…” Iona asked him quietly, “that I would let you die by any hand other than my own?”
Then she lifted her hand. Brought it to her mouth. Sliced the flesh with her teeth, then offered her wrist to him.
When he drank, she understood that Jamie wasn’t like the others. For some reason, he’d touched a part of her that she’d buried deep inside. The human part. The part that wouldn’t let a man die before her eyes.
