If only he would nibble a path to her neck. If only he would spread her legs with his knee, rub his erection against her core, then spin her, press her against the brick, rub her harder, faster, creating a dizzying friction, then strip her, penetrate her, claim her.
She would force him if necessary. Yes. Yes. She would trace her hand along his chest, feel the bump of his scar, wonder how he’d gotten it, run her fingers along the waist of his pants, feel the tip of his erection, the bead of pre-come, and—
With a groan, he disengaged from her, severing all contact and moving out of touching range.
Her arm fell heavily to her side as she panted, fighting past the haze of longing to concentrate on him. “Wh—what’s wrong?” What she really wanted to say: Give me more.
“Had a … few gulps … already.” At least he was panting, too. That meant he was equally affected. Right? “Promised. No more.”
Anger sparked. Why hadn’t he ignored her demand? Why hadn’t he tried something sexual? Had he not liked her taste? Had he—
No, no, no. Ava cut through those thick threads of anger, snapping them apart, allowing other, saner emotions a path to travel. She couldn’t think like that. She’d wanted him, yes. More than she should have. But there’d been a purpose to this experiment, one she couldn’t forget.
“How do you feel?” she asked, having to utilize every cell in her body for strength. Only problem was, those cells still craved McKell and urged her to lean toward him.
“Fine. I feel fine.” In that moment, utter hostility radiated from him.
Why, she didn’t know. Her gaze raked him. His color was high, his lips puffy and stained red. A bead of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he quickly licked it away, closed his eyes, savored. The sight of his tongue … get yourself under control. He wasn’t shaking, but his muscles were clearly knotted, stiff.
She waited. He didn’t hunch over, and he didn’t vomit. That could only mean one thing. According to vampire lore, she was his. Truly his. Any lingering disappointment and anger drained from her completely.
She was his, she thought with a grin, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Ten
Ava was his, McKell thought with a frown, and there was nothing he could do about it. Yet. There was no denying it now, either, not in any way. Not while the proof settled so sweetly in his stomach, strengthening him, burning him so magnificently, reshaping him into something far more lethal than he’d been. Her protector.
Damn, damn, damn. Because pairings were all about body chemistries and hormones, he could blame no one but himself. Well, and Ava. But why would his own body pair him with a human? He was offended, insulted, and … sated.
The first mouthful of Ava’s delightful blood had been heaven. The second, hell. He’d wanted more, all, every drop. Wanted her in every way imaginable. Stopping had been painful, but that need to protect … Ingrained.
His strength had improved with every swallow. His senses, too. His gaze could now cut through the dark as if sunlight followed him; every inhalation cataloged the scents around him, his brain instantly sorting them out and revealing exactly where—and who—they came from. The perfume of Ava’s skin—the orchids he’d discovered their first night together, a coconut milk he hadn’t, and that hint of sugar. Dirt, paint—new and old—coffee, syrup, even aged, unwashed urine at the side of the building. He could feel his body healing completely, flesh weaving back together, stitches popping out.
All wonderful, except now, without pain and weakness and hunger clouding his reactions, his shaft was hard as a rock. He wanted to strip his woman, throw her down, and sink deep inside her, thrusting, consuming, branding. And she wanted it, too. Need still pulsed from her.
He imagined those soft fingertips gliding over the slit in his penis, spreading moisture, gripping him, sliding up and down, wringing an orgasm from his very soul.
You were only supposed to seduce her into sharing her blood—not allow her to seduce you.
“Well,” she said, slapping her hands together in a job well done. “Now that we’ve taken care of that … let’s roll.”
How unaffected she suddenly sounded. He fought a wave of anger. Earlier, he’d saved her from walking into one of those glimmering doorways. Did she know? Did she thank him? No. Now he’d saved her from being ravished by a vampire in public. Still no thanks was forthcoming.
“You don’t wish to discuss your feelings for me first?” he demanded.
Her eyes narrowed, the thickness of her lashes shielding the brilliant amber of her irises. “My feelings?”
“Yes. I just drank your blood, and you enjoyed it. Were even aroused by it.” He sniffed the air, the delicious air that enveloped her, savoring the lingering scent of her desire. “Surely you wish to tell me how you—”
Scowling, she whipped out the small taser and held it out for his view. “We do not discuss feelings. Ever. Not even the ones you obviously have for me. Understand?”
He wasn’t within her reach, but he jumped backward, anyway. Too well did he recall how those volts had incapacitated him. “Fine,” he snapped. What was wrong with her? Females loved discussing their feelings, analyzing everything, and discovering how much of his time he planned to give them.
He might have been waiting for Bride all these decades, but he hadn’t waited alone. He’d taken lovers. Many lovers. Nothing serious, nothing long-term, and certainly no one human. Each of his partners had had one thing in common. That silly urge to discuss everything. From what he was feeling at the moment to what he expected himself to feel in a few years.
Why didn’t Ava?
She holstered the weapon and walked away, saying, “Follow or not. Get hit by a bus or not. Whatever. I don’t care.”
As if she truly meant what she said, she continued down the sidewalk without ever looking back. Why, that little … that … female! McKell gritted his teeth and chased after her, shouldering humans out of the way. No one dared confront him about his bulldozing tactics. Perhaps they realized how close to the edge of lethal he was.
“You must not realize the great favor I’ve bestowed upon you,” he said when he reached her side. Once there, he watched for one of those doorways, certain another wouldn’t appear tonight but unwilling to lower his guard. “You are my food-slave.” She was much more than that, but he would never admit it aloud. “Yet I treat you as an equal.”