Page 63 of New Nebraska Heat

I was buckled over in my chair with the giggles when my phone beeped. A message from Bryce:Grabbing some stuff for dinner. Any requests?

“Hey, Seb,” I said, dabbing at the tears of laughter gathered on my lash line, “do you have any dinner plans?”

“No,” he said in a rush, leaning forward. He stayed that way and cleared his throat. “Not outside of going through a drive-thru on the way home, anyway.”

“Then you should come to Hunter’s place. We’re having a little get together thing…” I hesitated.

“Oh, sounds nice.” He sank back in his chair.

Damn, I’d phrased that initial invite wrong. Like a date or something. I was already in over my head with Hunter… and whatever was brewing with Bryce.

But Seb was so easy to talk to, and he deserved a nice meal for the verbal lashing he’d given Monique.

I hurried to correct myself. “Bry—Mr. Harding and Hunter areold friends, and Mr. Harding is promising to cook. If anything can cure that insomnia you’ve got, it’s a stomach full of wonderful food.”

He seemed to hunch in on himself, and he waved off the idea. “Oh, I couldn’t impose.”

“Trust me, you won’t. You’ll be my guest.”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to hang out, but I don’t want to cause awkwardness…”

“What if I insist?” I propped an elbow on his desk and rested my chin in my hand. “I’ve got plenty of time to persuade you.”

A smile quirked his mouth. “Then…” He dragged on the word, placing both elbows on the wood and tenting his fingers as he shot me a surprisingly sly look that made me chew the inside of my lower lip. “I’d say your wish is my command.”

“Perfect.”

But as I texted Hunter and Bryce a heads up about my plan, a twinge of doubt hit my gut. Would it really be the pleasant evening I was envisioning? Or had my new reckless “live a little” philosophy just made me toss Seb into a jaguar den?

Sebastian

Ihad blood on my brain as I spooned another mouthful of Mr. Harding’s venison broth to my mouth.

The artful blend of spice and game flavors should have been setting my tastebuds alight. Instead, my mouth sensed nothing but warm water. All I could think of was blood.

Serenity’s blood.

Its crimson flow tantalized with each pulsing beat beneath the smooth skin of her forearms and palms. It became harder and harder to resist the temptation and maintain the mental focus to try to hide my thoughts from her. I’d have to go soon.

She brought her wrist achingly close for the fourth time since we’d sat down, rubbing my shoulder. “I really thought the soup would bring some of your color back.” She lifted the cool backside of her hand to my clammy forehead.

My stomach seized and my skin prickled at the heavenly scent of her veins.

“Are you sure you didn’t catch something at the hospital? Have you been checked out?”

“It’s nothing, really. I’m sure.” But the quake in my voice made her frown. Thankfully, she pulled back, putting the temptation farther away.

I’d been fighting hunger for my mate’s blood, and its worrying side effects, for a few days now, but the feelings of weakness had intensified upon entering this cavernous loft, where her prolonged presence had marked almost every surface with her rich, heavenly scent.

I feared I couldn’t last through the meal. Regular gulps of my Bloodweiser seemed to be keeping my vision from blurring over, but we were only on the first course. My ravenous appetite for Serenity was sapping my strength, and no human food could counter it.

Not even medical-grade blood bags could quench my thirst now. It had taken me a few days after meeting Serenity to clue into the switch she’d flipped in my system. My body now demanded sustenance from a sole source. One that may as well have been a million miles away despite her proximity. She was definitely dating the territorial jaguar staring me down from across the table, but if I held my tongue too long… I’d die of starvation.

I had to make a good impression. But I also had to get the fuck out of here before I erased all the footing I’d gained with Serenity today. Getting chatty and buddy-buddy over work was a far cry from her offering up her body to my appetite. Especially with the horror stories her scars told.

I’d force myself to have as much soup as I could, then make my excuses and leave. I didn’t even know if I had the strength to stand and walk out, but that seemed my only option. If I didn’t want to be wheeled out of here and make an even worse impression on my mate.

Sighing, I sipped another spoonful of unsatisfying soup.