Page 23 of Bullets and Blood (Hunting Hearts #1)

Chapter Nineteen

He approached one and ran his hand down her back. The worst part was the hair. It was dusty and thick and rather gross, but he was getting desperate, and he couldn’t bite a human without breaking his word to the Reids. He wasn’t desperate enough to do that, not yet anyway.

He’d made and discarded so many plans because they were all unworkable or downright dumb. The only reason Lance hadn’t called him in was because he was getting laid—why else would he be keeping his word? It was fine; they were both getting what they wanted out of the relationship.

And if he kept thinking that it might come true.

His life was one long transaction. Do this and get that.

As soon as the price became too high, someone had to cut and run.

Usually him. It was cleaner that way. But he’d promised not to run while the truce was in place.

If he broke his word, Lance would doubt all the truths he’d told.

And he refused to be known as a liar and oath breaker. He wasn’t an Orlan.

That he gave a damn what Lance thought of him was troubling, but God, he’d looked so good today. Tasted so good. Men were so helpless when their dick was in his mouth. The pressure built in the roof of his mouth, but not enough to force his fangs forward.

He rubbed the cow’s neck, feeling for her pulse and getting himself ready for the grit and dirt that would sit on his tongue until he was able to brush his teeth.

He soothed her so she wouldn’t bolt and wouldn’t feel pain.

If he didn’t feed, he’d weaken, and he couldn’t afford that either.

The simple solution would’ve been to bleed Lance dry and start running on a full stomach.

While he was hungry for blood, it took effort and thoughts of Lance in the maze, dick out, hands behind his back, feigning helplessness after capture, to get his fangs down.

His heart quickened. That had been more fun than he’d expected.

He liked having Lance at his mercy and fully intended to pin him to the bed later.

The game would sour when the clock ran out and someone had to fire the first shot, and for the first time in his life, Nix knew it wouldn’t be him.

For all that he wanted to run with Lance and find Zinnia, he didn’t know how to make it happen.

The moment Lance dropped off the grid, the Orlans would be searching for him.

Like the winery, it was a dream that would only become a plan if all the stars aligned.

But that didn’t stop him from trying to figure out ways to make it happen.

It would be easier to pull off than buying a winery.

If Lance really wanted to run.

And if Zinnia agreed to blood him.

And even then, it would be the three of them against the wrath of the Orlans.

That wasn’t a plan. It was a collection of possibilities that barely brushed up against reality. No, he had to be sensible. Practical. All the reasons he was having dinner in a paddock instead of a nightclub.

He opened his mouth wide and sank his fangs into the cow.

Her warm, hot blood gushed into his mouth, and he took great gulps.

The initial distaste vanished as he took what he needed without fear of taking too much.

He didn’t lick the wound when he was done.

Just wiped his mouth and stepped back. He’d get by on raw meat for another few weeks.

He laughed softly. He wasn’t going to be alive in a few weeks.

Damn. His last feed had been off a cow, not a hot clubber looking for a good time on the end of his dick.