Once a vampire drank, well, she'd have control over the prey. She'd be able to get him to do whatever she wanted.
No wonder Maya wasn't too worried about trust being an issue.
If he'd been human, well, she would have been right to think that way.
But since he wasn't, all bets were off.
There'd be no control. Unless he was the one doing the dominating.
"You've probably heard talk about what happens when blood's exchanged."
Not really an exchange if he didn't get to taste her. Not that he was particularly into that, but-
Her eyes met his directly. Blue, not hunter black. Not yet. "I'll just take enough now for a bond.
That way, if you get into any kind of trouble while we're working together, I'll know."
If only he believed her.
Adam had never met a vampire who didn't lie. He tilted his head back. Gazed up at the cracks in the ceiling and muttered, "Take your drink." For all the good it will do you.
She rose against him. Her breath blew over his skin.
He should have been repulsed. Ashamed. He'd never given his blood to one like her before.
Never offered his throat in submission.
Never been a fool.
Never been prey.
Until now.
His choices were nonexistent. If he wanted to find Cammie, Maya was his only hope.
"Relax. I told you, I not planning to hurt you."
Actually, he believed the woman had said she wasn't going to hurt him… much . The pain wasn't an issue, though. He could deal with pain. He'd managed easily enough in the past.
But it burned in his gut that she was already lying to him. While he'd never been food for a vampire, he'd heard the stories from the lucky few who'd managed to survive. Ripping, slashing pain. Teeth that cut, severed.
Mental screams that were never voiced because by then, it was too late. The vampire was already in the prey's head.
He remembered the foolish humans he'd seen at the feeding room. Eyes glazed over. Blood trickling down their throats. Had they tried to scream when they realized– too late –that it wasn't all dark fantasies and passion? In that last second before the vampires took control, had they been afraid? Her lips were on his throat now. Soft lips. Pressing gently. His hands clenched into fists. "Get it over with," he growled.
"If that's what you want." A faint whisper.
He stared up at those cracks-like spiderwebs in the ceiling.
Her tongue swept over him, a warm, wet caress that caused his c**k to jerk in reaction.
He was sick. No other explanation.
The edge of her teeth pressed into his neck. The pressure was hard, and he prepared for the piercing pain as-
Heat exploded through him, a blinding flash that shook his body. For a moment, he worried that he'd lost his control, worried that the beast was free, that it would destroy Maya-
The ecstasy hit him. Waves of pleasure, the feelings so intense he shuddered-and wanted more.
His hands locked around her. One hand held her head to him, forcing her mouth tight against his neck. The other hand clenched around the curve of her ass, pressing her against his swollen flesh.
No pain. They'd been wrong. There wasn't pain, just-
Pleasure.
She could drink from him all day, he didn't care. The feel of her mouth, sucking on his neck, licking, was one of the most erotic things he'd ever experienced.
Better than sex. Stronger, harder, so much bet-
Her head pushed against his hand. She wanted to stop.
No .
His fingers tightened. He could make her keep drinking. There was no danger to him. He could-
What am I doing? His hands dropped from her. He stepped back.
And immediately missed the press of her mouth.
But the haze was clearing from his eyes. The lust still blazed through his body, the remembered pleasure seared his nerves, but at least his sanity was returning.
His fingers touched the wound on his throat. The skin was tender, but he knew the wound would heal soon.
His gaze locked on Maya's face. She licked her lips, and her eyes slowly faded from black to blue.
Then that stare narrowed on him. "You don't taste like a human."
His heart was racing. Arousal, not fear. "Oh? And just what do I taste like?"
She didn't answer. Just stared at him a moment longer as if trying to figure out some sort of puzzle.
Good luck with that one. He'd keep his secrets from her until he was damn good and ready to reveal them.
His c**k was so hard and thick that he was pretty sure the zipper of his jeans might be leaving a permanent impression on his flesh.
He'd just gotten turned on by a vampire's bite.
Impossible.
Or so he'd thought.
His gaze dropped to the front of Maya's T-shirt. Her ni**les poked against the fabric, sharp, tight peaks.
She'd been aroused by the exchange.
Good. So he wasn't the only one being driven to the edge.
"We'll talk about your niece at dusk. Figure out a game plan." She was obviously dismissing him for the time being and ignoring the tension between them, and her own need.
Interesting.
He found he wasn't quite as capable of ignoring the need. The lust pumped through his blood, driving a hunger he'd never expected to feel.
If her bite felt that good, he couldn't help but wonder, how would it feel to f**k her ? She walked toward the wall. She punched in a series of codes, and a faint whur filled the air.
There was a soft clank as the shutters locked into place.
"What are those for?" he asked, and his voice was harder, deeper than he intended. She had control. If she could fight the desire, so could he.
Maybe.
Control had never really been his strong suit.
He tried again, clearing his throat and deliberately not looking at the bare expanse of her pale legs. But he bet they'd feel good wrapped around him. "I thought the sun didn't hurt you." He knew it didn't. He'd once tied a vampire to a tree and waited for the sun to rise and the fire to start.
Nothing had happened.
Lucky for him, it had been easy enough to start a fire another way.
"The shutters don't just keep out the sun," she said, yawning a little and heading toward the bed.
"They keep the monsters out, too. They're made of reinforced steel. It'd take someone with a hell of a lot of strength-more strength than a vamp has-to get past 'em during the daylight."
The lady sure believed in being prepared.
She pushed back the covers, climbed into the bed. Then she threw a pillow at him. Hard. "You should fit on the sofa in the den."
The den? His fingers curled into the lumpy pillow. Since when did the place have a den? There was a bathroom the size of a closet, a miniscule bedroom, and he'd been pretty sure when they entered the house they'd walked through a kitchen.