Her head tilted back into the pillows as he drove deeper, wishful that she might never escape him. He bathed in her scent as it filled the air around them. He memorized every feature as he kissed her eyes, the sharp bones of her cheeks, her delicate ears, and the corners of her mouth.
Together, they wrung every drop of pleasure from each other. Cradling her onto his lap, he held her securely. Sifting his fingers through her thick hair, he turned her head into his shoulder, nuzzling her throat and causing her pulse to leap.
“I’ve needed you.”
“Please,” she begged. “I’m nothing without your need of me.”
That wasn’t true. She was everything. Eventually, she’d learn that and he would become the forgotten piece.
He drew her closer, licking over her pulse, and sank his fangs into her flesh. Hot, lifesaving blood coated his tongue and he groaned at her familiar flavor. Her body arched in his arms as muscles tightened and she climaxed.
Adrenaline laced every sip, but as her passion faded, the flavor settled like ash on his tongue. His soul did not recognize her as his mate, and for that he cursed God.
Rage tunneled through him. He drank deeply from her vein, pulling with bruising force, insistent that she be the one. Her weak moan teased his fraying sanity, but his greedy, masculine grunts muffled her gentle cries.
“Jonas…”
He pinned her beneath him. More. He needed more. If he drank enough of her, he’d find what he was after.
A gluttonous animal awoke inside of him and he growled, anchoring her petite body to the bed and rutting into her with brute force, but he still wasn’t satisfied. Sinking his fangs deeper, he tore at her gentle flesh, thrusting hard and forcing himself into her soul.
“Jonas!” Her plea couldn’t penetrate his resolve.
He was determined to find what he needed in her. Her hands broke free of his hold and slapped at his shoulders, but he dwarfed her with his strength.
“You’re hurting me!” Her cry hardly registered until sharp claws scored his flesh.
Blood—his own—blurred his vision as she clawed her way free and sprung to her feet.
Naked and panting, she stood before him, unruly hair forming a halo around her pale face, blood trickling from her throat, down her narrow shoulders and past her breast, as she hissed at him, bearing her fangs.
She looked at him as if he were a stranger, as if she didn’t recognize him. Glancing down at his crimson-stained flesh and throbbing body, he hardly recognized himself.
What’s happening to me?
He staggered back from the bed, forcing himself to the other side of the room. All he wanted was for her to be the one, but his instincts knew better. The beast inside was not clouded by emotion, and there would be no reasoning with the beast once it was fully in control.
How much time did they have left?
Unable to risk her safety another second, he unlatched the door and fled, racing as fast as he could to the distant forest where animals belonged.
Chapter 13
“Thanks for coming over,” Larissa said as she opened her apartment door to let Vito in. Before shutting it, she quickly scanned the hall for any signs of the bishop.
“Any time, babe. That’s what friends are for.”
It had been days since the incident with the bishop, and he hadn’t returned. Perhaps he gave up his ridiculous quest to find and return her and decided to let her choose her own fate—Silus be damned.
She hoped so because the bishop was a strong and dangerous man. Unsure if he was truly gone, she’d been hiding in her apartment, consequently starving. She tried to hunt close by, but every slight rustling of leaves on the ground had her jumping and worrying that the bishop had found her. She was as skittish as a rabbit.
“Would you like something to drink? I have popcorn to eat during our show, but I wasn’t sure how to cook it.” She held up the compact little bag filled with kernels and smelling deliciously like butter.
“I’ll take a beer if you got one.”
“Sure. I have beer. I bought some last week.”
She loved the convenience of English grocery stores, loved the ability to buy anything without the inconvenience of readying a horse or waiting for her overbearing husband’s permission. The bishop was just another male inflicting on her freedom.
Opening the electric refrigerator, she pulled one of the glass bottles from the handy little carrier holding six beers. “Here you go.”
Vito frowned at the bottle. “What the hell is that, Larissa?”
She looked at the beer and her momentary pride deflated. “It’s a beer.” Had she purchased the wrong kind? “The guy at the counter said it was a popular flavor.”
“It’s a friggen’ wine cooler, Larissa. Peach, no less! I’m a two-hundred-fifty-pound man. I can’t drink that shit.”
“Oh.” She lowered her hand.