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There must be something she could do.

His hair had come loose from its ponytail in the fight, dark red, almost the color of blood. She stroked it away, revealing the clean lines of his face. High cheekbones, a sharp jaw. She trailed her finger down his big, beaky nose. Unconscious, he appeared so young. She’d never have dared touch him like this if he was awake. The thought made her feel guilty, and she snatched her hand away. Her gaze strayed to his throat. Did he have a pulse? Did vampires ever have a pulse?

“Please wake up, Lachlan. Please. I’ll do what I’m told. You can lock me in the dungeon. I’ll never sneak out again. Just wake up.”

He didn’t move. Not at all. Tears pricked her eyes and she sniffed. He was perhaps the only other being awake in the whole world. He might not be…nice, and likely if he did wake up, he would just dump her at some point in the not too distant future, but right now he was all she had. And she couldn’t do this alone.

Think.

He’d clearly lost a lot of blood. He needed to replace it. And what did vampires drink? Blood.

She had blood.

She could surely spare a little.

And it wasn’t as though she had a lot of other bright ideas.

She bit her lip, then glanced around. How did she even do this? Why had she never asked? Her sister Gina would have told her. Gina knew all about feeding vampires. She was married to one. Was actually a vampire herself. But Lola had never asked.

How hard could it be? She stripped off her gloves and pushed up her sleeve and stared at her wrist with the tracery of blue veins so close to the surface. “So near and yet so far.”

Could she bite through the skin? Ugh. She needed a knife. Or if not a knife then something sharp. Slipping her hands under Lachlan’s coat, she patted him down. He was hard, and he didn’t have a knife that she could find. He did have a belt, with a shiny silver buckle and she unfastened it with fumbling, freezing fingers, tugged it free and then scraped the buckle across her wrist. “Ow, ow, ow.” Finally, the skin broke open, and a minuscule amount of blood welled from the tiny wound. She had an idea it wasn’t going to be enough. Gritting her teeth, she pressed harder, until her blood dripped onto the snow. What a waste.

She leaned in closer to Lachlan. “Think of this as an early Christmas present,” she said and pressed her cut wrist against his lips.

Nothing happened. It wasn’t going to work. “Come on, Lachlan. It’s blood. Lovely delicious, virgin blood. Yummy.”

Suddenly, his eyes flashed open, and his hand grasped her wrist in an immovable grip. His mouth opened and his teeth sank into her skin. She gave a little yelp of shock. Then closed her eyes and breathed.

“Okay, okay. This is good.” This is what she wanted.

Wasn’t it?

Then his whole body shifted. His mouth released her wrist, and relief flooded her system. For one second. Then somehow, she was on her back, and Lachlan was looming over her, huge, eyes crimson, her blood dripping from the biggest pair of fangs she had ever seen—and she seen some pretty big fangs tonight.

She opened her mouth to scream as he buried his face in her throat. His fangs sank into her flesh. She waited for pain. Instead a sense of peace washed through her, and she went still as he started to feed.

A deep rhythmic tugging pulled at places deep inside her. Her body relaxed; warmth spread through her where there had been only cold. She arched her back, her arms going around him to pull him closer. Shouldn’t she be pushing him away? But it felt so good. Nothing had ever felt this good. Tingles radiated out from the center of her body. Her nipples ached; her sex was drenched. The pleasure was building and building until she shuddered beneath him. Pleasure like she’d never known existed exploded, shattering her into a thousand pieces. And still he drank. Her vision was dimming, going dark at the edges.

Her last thought as the darkness took her—if she was going to die, then this was as good a way as any.

And…would he be sorry?

Chapter Seven

Lachlan could sense the life force filling him. There was nothing like it. That moment when you took the last drop of blood and the life was yours.

Not happening.

Somehow he found the strength, broke his hold, and jerked away, every fiber in his body screaming to finish this.

No!

That wasn’t who he was. His whole body shuddered. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he waited until he had control. He felt disorientated. Dizzy with the power flowing through him.

Where the hell was he? What had happened?

He’d fed. And he’d never tasted anything like it. Rich and sweet and full of magic.