Holly’s scent was coming from those wounds.
Just what was his vampiress doing?
“S-supposed to collar him,” the guard said. “Bring him in…”
Was it his imagination or did the guard look dazed?
The collar snapped in place. Even though the silver was glowing, Duncan didn’t feel a burn. “Come with me,” the guard said, lifting the collar’s remote.
After one final look at a tense-faced Pate, Duncan followed the guard out. They walked through a series of hallways, past heavy, silver doors. Duncan caught the salty scent of the ocean, drifting in to him from the windows high above.
“Werewolves aren’t allowed out during full moons. So you’ll be locked up tight then,” the guard told him.
The full moon had just passed. Duncan had survived that night. Well, partially, and he wasn’t exactly planning on hanging around the prison until the full moon came calling once more.
“The werewolves are housed on the south side. The vampires on the north.”
Since he was supposed to be some combination of both, where did that put him?
“But you’re due for an infirmary check first. Got to make sure your collar’s strong enough to last, but not strong enough to kill you.”
Uh, yeah, that was good.
Then the guard was motioning with his weapon. Pointing toward a door on the right. “Ten minutes in the infirmary.”
Was this standard protocol?
“The doctor’s waiting,” the guard muttered, looking away.
His doc?
Duncan shuffled forward. The door to the infirmary opened, and she was there. Wide eyes. Red lips. Face so f**king beautiful that she’d haunt him forever.
“Is he secure?” Her voice was flat.
“Y-yes…” The guard stammered.
She turned those deep eyes on the guard. “Then stand outside the door. Don’t let anyone in while I’m with the prisoner.”
She reached for Duncan’s arm. Pulled him inside. She shut and bolted the door behind him. The guard didn’t say a word.
Then her mouth was on Duncan’s. Just the touch of her mouth against his seemed to ignite a firestorm inside of him.
He’d thought he’d lusted for her before, but now every sense was heightened. Every emotion raged out of control.
He wanted to bite her so badly that his teeth ached.
Her tongue thrust against his. He loved her taste. Would never get enough of it. Couldn’t get enough of her.
Mine.
The beast was still inside him, but that claim came fully from the man.
Holly pulled her mouth from his. “I was afraid I’d lost you.” Her words were hushed. He could hear the whisper of pain in her voice. Her gaze was stark as she stared up at him. “I’m so sorry, Duncan.”
He wanted to speak. Couldn’t. Because he could hear the wild thunder of her heartbeat. Want her blood.
“I shouldn’t have given you my blood. I know you didn’t want to change.”
His gaze was on her throat. On the pulse that raced so frantically.
“But I couldn’t let you die.” The words broke. “Please, Duncan, say something.”
He put his hand on her neck. He had claws. The claws of a werewolf came from his fingers. But he didn’t scratch her skin. He didn’t want to waste that blood. “Mine.”
“Wh-what?”
He pushed her against the wall. Trapped her. “Mine,” he said again, then his mouth was at her throat. This was instinctive, primal. There was no stopping, not now, not with her, though a part of him watched from a dark corner of his mind, horrified at what he was doing.
Can’t stop. Must take.
Her hands pushed against his chest. Before, her vampire strength would have been enough to send him stumbling across the room. Now, he barely felt the push of her hands.
His mouth was on her throat. He licked the skin. She trembled.
He bit.
When her blood flowed onto his tongue, it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Better than wine. Better than honey. Better than any damn thing. His c**k hardened even more because he’d been aroused since the moment he’d seen her. It stretched, ached, and he yanked down her jeans and shoved aside her panties even as he kept drinking from her.
The bloodlust tangled with the physical lust that he felt. He wanted to speak, to tell her that he didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t pull away.
With one hand, he lifted her up. Held her easily, then drove deep into her. She moaned against him and arched—not away from him, but toward his mouth.
Oh, f**k, but he hoped she was enjoying his bite. Because nothing could have made him pull away from her right then.
Her sex contracted around him, so tight that his c**k felt like it was gripped in a silken fist, and he thrust deep into her even as he drank her blood.
He should have been repulsed by what he was doing.
He f**king wasn’t.
She came around him. He swore that he could taste the pleasure in her blood as her body tensed and she choked out his name.
Then, only then, was he able to take one last sip from her. He swiped his tongue over the wound on her neck, and he came so long and hard that his body shuddered.
The fury of need slowly faded. Pleasure still pulsed through him, small aftershocks as his c**k emptied into her. Her arms were around him. Her legs locked around his hips.
He was almost afraid to look at her. He’d been worried that she’d think of him as a beast before, but he’d just damn well gorged on her. She’d come after him, apologizing, and he’d done that to her.
Careful now, when he should have been careful before, Duncan eased out of her. Her breath caught, and his gaze flew to her face.
There was no anger in her eyes. No pain. Just the afterglow of pleasure.
He stared at her. Lost.
How the hell could she still look at him like that?
Then she smiled at him. Smiled. She said, “You aren’t going to…ah…believe this…” Her voice was breathless, husky, and it just made him hard again, “but I promise, I came here to save you, not just to f**k you.”
Right there, in the middle of Purgatory, with death all around, with fangs in his mouth and claws growing from his fingertips, he…smiled.
Her breath caught. “Duncan, you’ve got dimples.”
He kissed her. Not wild. Not desperate. Just…kissed her.
Her lips whispered back against his.
“I’m sorry,” he told her softly. She deserved so much better than what had happened.
“For what?” She shook her head. “Duncan, I’m the one who changed you.”