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Hungrier.

And his scent, beneath the metallic tang of blood, is something new, something I should have recognized before but never have.

The distinctive scent of vampire.

Impossible.

Male vampires manifest at thirty-five, transforming from latent to active in a violent awakening. But we always know what we are from birth, raised with the knowledge of our true nature, prepared for the change, theBecoming. And when the Becoming does happen, we’re aware. We’re in complete control of the vampires we become.

But Callahan shows no recognition in his eyes, no understanding of what’s happening to him. Just raw hunger and confusion swirling beneath the surface.

I keep perfectly still beneath his hand, letting him see that I won’t scream. Slowly, he removes his palm from my mouth, though he remains positioned above me, caging me with his body.

“Callahan,” I whisper, “what happened to you?”

He doesn’t answer, just stares down at me with those changed eyes. His breathing is ragged, chest heaving as if he’s been on the run. When he finally speaks, his words are stilted, forced.

“I don’t…know.”

I reach up cautiously, touching his face, my fingers coming away red with blood. “You’re in transition,” I tell him softly. “Your body is changing.”

“Changing into what?” His voice breaks on the question, the fear beneath his confusion finally surfacing.

Before I can answer, his head dips suddenly, face into the curve of my neck. It’s wet where the blood presses against me. I feel him inhale deeply, drawing my scent into his lungs. A shudder runs through his powerful frame.

“You smell…different,” he murmurs against my skin. “Have you always smelled this way?”

My heart races faster. He’s recognizing me as vampire, though he doesn’t understand what that recognition means. This could be dangerous—newly transitioning males are volatile, driven by instincts they can’t control or comprehend, but they’re always taken care of during the Becoming. They should be chained up, subdued, just as I was. If he’s going through it right now…the bloodlust…

He could kill me.

“Callahan,” I say carefully, “you need to let me help you. There are people who can explain what’s happening?—”

His mouth finds mine, cutting off my words with violent kiss. This is raw, primal, claiming. His tongue pushes past my lips, demanding entry, and I taste blood—fresh blood that he’s recently consumed, though I’m not sure he realizes it.

I should push him away. Should call Abe immediately.

I’m in literal danger.

But my body loves danger. It responds to his with an intensity that steals my breath. My arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as a moan escapes me, the hunger for him becoming inconsolable.

His hands are everywhere then, tearing at my nightgown with inhuman strength, the delicate fabric ripping like tissue paper. Cool air hits my skin, immediately replaced by the burning heat of his mouth as he moves down my body.

“Need you,” he growls against my breast, the words barely human. “Need this.” His tongue laps up with a wide stroke. “Gonna take it.”

“Then take it,” I whisper as his teeth graze my nipple, sending shocks of pleasure through my body. I find myself arching into his touch, craving more. I’ve never wanted anyonethe way I want him—with a famine that matches his own, a recognition that goes soul-deep.

When his hand slides between my thighs, finding me already slick with desire, I surrender to the inevitability of what’s happening between us. This isn’t just sex—it’s a claiming, a merging of two predatory natures finally recognizing each other.

With a blur of speed, his clothes are off and he roughly parts my legs with his knee, his giant cock jutting up between us, bigger than I remember it.

“Mine,” he says roughly, positioning himself above me. “Always mine.”

He drives into me, too hard, too fast, and I cry out, the sound caught between pleasure and pain. The bed slams against the wall with the force of his thrusts, and he pins my arms above my head with a grip that’s bruising in its intensity.

His face is wild above mine, almost feral as he pushes deeper. “Mine,” he repeats, a vicious growl in his voice. “Say it.”

I gasp beneath him, meeting each brutal thrust with one of my own. “Yours,” I finally manage to breathe, the word coming out as a ragged moan.