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Chapter Thirteen

HALINA

The hunger clawed at me—perhaps brought on by the memory of how delicious Fergus’s blood had tasted. I’d been a fool to bring it up.

And now it was all I could do not to leap across the mat and find out if Bram’s was the same. My fangs ached—and so did my sex.

“Aye,” Bram said, his green gaze steady. “He did.”

It was a struggle to tear my eyes from the pulse in his neck. “What?” I’d forgotten what we were talking about.

“Fergus, lass. He said you enjoyed drinking from him.”

Oh gods, I had.

“Your eyes are different,” he murmured, but he didn’t look shocked in the least.

No, he looked downright enchanted, and his own eyes gleamed a deeper green. He was gorgeous—and now I knew he was a gentle giant. Not at all the taciturn male I’d thought him.

“I like it, Halina,” he rumbled.

My heart raced, galloping like a wild thing in my chest. “You do?”

“Mmhmm. And, you know, I cannae help but wonder if you’d enjoy feeding from me just as much as you did Fergus.”

Moisture surged between my legs, and now my voice trembled with need. “I’ve wondered that, too.”

“Have you now?” He tipped his chin up ever so slightly.

I was on him like a flash of lightning, my fingers spearing through his dark hair to hold his head still as I nuzzled his neck. Immediately, frustration battered me. “I’ll hurt you,” I panted. “My fangs aren’t long enough to pierce the skin.”

“What do ye need?”

“Knife.”

“Hold on.” He tightened his arms around me, stood in one fluid motion, and whisked us from the room. I buried my face in the hollow of his neck as wind whipped around us. When we stopped, we were in an unfamiliar bedroom and he was pressing a blade into my hand.

It had all happened so fast. I swayed on my feet, his heartbeat loud in my ears.

He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. “Cut me wherever you wish, lass.”

Need assailed me. He was a walking fantasy—smooth, golden skin and muscles for days. And he was offering himself to me, giving me carte blanche with his magnificent body.

Could I take it? Because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to walk away this time. My panties were soaked, my breasts heavy and aching.

A thought flashed in my head, clear and certain as an arrow hitting a target: If I fed from him, I was going to sleep with him, too.

He waited, patient and steady. There was fire in his eyes, but he wouldn’t touch me unless I willed it. I knew that now.

When I stepped toward him, his eyes went heavy-lidded. Anticipation coiled around him like a snake, but he remained still, and he didn’t flinch as I drew close and flicked the tip of the knife over his vein.

But he jerked when I latched onto his neck. And with my first draw, he gave a low, sexy moan.

The sound shot straight to my sex, which clenched hard and made me moan in response. My eyelids fluttered shut as ecstasy overwhelmed me. He smelled of cedar and smoke. He tasted like fire. His exquisite blood rushed down my throat, spreading the blaze everywhere. My body undulated against his, and the feel of his hard muscle against my curves was almost as satisfying as the taste of his blood.

One big hand stroked my hair, and another slid around my waist to pull my hips into his.

At the feel of his rock-hard erection, my eyes flew open. He was just as large there as he was everywhere else. I swiped my tongue over the wound in his neck and pulled back, torn between lust and apprehension. “Bram…”