Page 48 of Taming His Vampire Mate

He stood his ground, gaze steady. He didn’t flinch when I seized his shoulders.

“Maybe you’re foolish to have dropped your guard with me. Wolves run hotter than humans. I wonder how that changes the taste of your blood.”

“Let’s find out,” Jeremy said, tilting his head to bare his throat. “Go on. Do it. Prove me wrong.”

His scent enveloped me, reminding me of home, of belonging.

“Damn you,” I whispered, releasing him and running a hand through my hair—a nervous tic I hadn’t done in years. What was I doing?

“Look, if you want me to leave, just say so.”

“Fine, leave.”

“No.”

I ground my teeth. “It will be dark soon. And I can’t protect you from a thousand vampires. You’ve stayed too long.”

“Careful, or I might think you’re starting to like me.”

“I wouldn’t share a bus seat with you.”

“Are we back to this now?” He sighed. “Look, we still have time to check the rest of this street.”

“And then? This is dangerous, wolf.”

“Once I have enough moonlight to shift, I will. I won’t smell human. It’ll be a more even fight if it comes to that.”

I drew in a breath to explain just how idiotic that was—then scented it. And froze.

The sickly-sweet tang of illness, faint but unmistakable. A living creature nearby.

Jeremy’s brows pulled together. “What is it?”

“Quiet.” I held up a hand, listening.

A heartbeat. A sharply indrawn breath. Whispering. The rustle of fabric. The creak of a floorboard. Survivors. I focused for a long moment. Then—faintly—a muffled whimper of pain.

I vaulted the fence and ran, stopping at a single-story house marked with a small lawn sign:Rookwood Elder Home.A black van sat in the driveway with a massive side door. I’d have bet any amount of money it was equipped with a wheelchair lift.

The curtains in the front windows shifted. As if someone had just been watching us and stepped back suddenly. The scent was stronger here—at least one other human inside. Four heartbeats in total. Four struggling candle flames against the encroaching dark.

Jeremy jogged to join me. “What is it? Do you hear someone?”

“Yes,” I said softly. “There are survivors inside.”

“Huh. I’m used to being the one with the sharpest senses.” He glanced at the sky, which was darkening from blue to purple. “Well, shit.”

Not eloquent, but accurate.

Then he brushed past me and knocked on the front door.

From inside, a gasp. And deeper in the house, another muffled whimper.

“We’re the good guys,” Jeremy said through the door.

“Are we?” I arched a brow.

“I’m grading on a curve,” he muttered. Then he knocked again, louder. “We’re here to help!”