Page 3 of It's in His Bite

I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

He raised a single eyebrow, the same way I’d seen him do countless times when dealing with an irritating vampire at one of the clan functions. “You bet your arse I will. Now shut up while I keep you from bleeding all over the kitchen.”

Chapter Three

Harlowe

Having Landon Rhodes anywhere in the same room as me was an exquisite agony borne of idiotic attraction, but having him herd me to the kitchen island and then crowd me into the barstool while he was no more than an inch away from my body? It was worse. I was close enough to smell the dark, musky cologne he wore and see the subtle muscles that filled out his sweater and slacks.

Slacks. Like this was some damn class at the university and not my parents’ annual Christmas retreat.

His eyes were bright green jewels as he worked to clean up the bites. Every so often, they would flash that ominous red that had my breath catching in my throat. And every time, his jaw would clench and a muscle would feather in his neck.

His hands were soft but unrelenting, and each brush of his skin against the sensitive wounds had a shiver coasting down my spine and an ache ratcheting deeper in my belly. When he twisted to grab the adhesive bandage, his knee brushed my own,and I practically collapsed in a puddle on the floor. It took every ounce of self-preservation to keep the whimper buried deep enough he wouldn’t hear it.

Holy sex appeal.

Sure, I was attracted to men, but all of my most memorable partners were women. They just… Well, they never once left their bites half-bleeding when kicking me out of the back of their SUV after not delivering a single damn orgasm, that’s for sure. God, the bar was literally in hell and some guys couldn’t manage to get above it.

So how did this man manage to make methishigh strung without uttering a damn word outside of threatening to tell my father I let a random vampire feed from me? Truly, the universe held no good will for me. This was the worst torture I’d ever had to endure.

“You need to check this tonight. If it’s broken open, you’ll need another treatment of Meridith’s wound tonic,” he said into the overbearing silence.

The sudden rumble of his voice made me start. He frowned, taking me in with a look that seemed to dig right through me. God, I hoped I didn’t look as flustered as I felt.

After a long beat, he continued. “I don’t trust that it will stay closed. The wanker did a piss poor job of handling his marks.”

I forced a swallow and then nodded, ready to slide off this stool and hide in the large bedroom I’d share with all of the single women on their way while obsessively refreshing my email like I’d been doing at the cafe. I carefully got to my feet and reached for my bag, trying to not hit Landon as he took a step back.

Except he didn’t move. He stood utterly still, a wall of muscle and wool and old money charisma, his eyes flashing back to the bite and away in a circuit.

Why had he not backed away? Was he waiting for me to say something? Because there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to talk when he was so damn close to me. I wasn’t even sure words could form at this point.

That muscle ticked in his neck again, and his eyes skated over my face. His eyes glowed that eerie red for an entire minute before fading back to green. I couldn’t help but focus on his lips, the way they were a pale pink and way too full for his face, the way the soft lines of them smoothed the harder cut of his chin and the rugged feel of his beard.

The ringing of my phone had me practically jumping out of my skin. He finally took that step away, twisting to grab all the wound supplies from the counter.

Rhiannon’s face filled the screen as I answered the call. Her blonde hair was pulled back, only the blunt bangs framing her face. Her gaze was on something behind the phone. Heavy steps sounded through the speaker and then a low growl that was distinctly wolf-like.

“For God’s sake,” Rhiannon said, her hold on the phone twisting so that I saw more of her parents’ living room. “Dylan, would you just go for a run and save us the misery of being stuck going over the pass with you like this?”

The growling got louder before it cut off all at once.

“Go,” a different feminine voice ordered. I was almost positive it was Rhiannon and Dylan’s mother, Ferne. “You have half an hour before we’re leaving. Get yourself sorted.”

“Rhiannon?” I asked in a dry tone.

Her attention snapped back to me, a light pink blush coloring her cheeks.

“Oh, hey, Harlowe! Just wanted to let you know that—” Her eyes locked on the bandage. “What happened?”

I rolled my eyes. “Nothing.”

Landon scoffed.

“You have a bandage,” Rhiannon said with a frown. “That’s not nothing.”

“Bandage?” Tessa appeared in frame. Her chocolate brown hair was down, and she’d decided to wear it in its natural ringlets. Her olive skin was glowing against the cream sweater she wore.