Home > To Kill an Angel (Blood Like Poison #3)(21)

To Kill an Angel (Blood Like Poison #3)(21)
Author: M. Leighton

“Do you want me to help?”

“No, baby. You need to rest. Al this stress is burning through your blood. You’re beginning to fade and soon the thirst wil be unbearable. I’l get you home, come back and take care of them and then go feed so you can drink when you get up.”

I knew without a doubt that Bo would take care of everything, including me. I could feel love pouring off him in waves and I closed my eyes for just a moment to bask in it, to let it wash over me and carry away al the sadness, like dirt from a river bank.

Final y, I nodded and let Bo help me to my feet. Before he led me from the barn, he pul ed me close to his chest and wrapped his strong arms around me. It seemed as though nothing could hurt me, not even a hurricane, as long as I was in his arms.

After a few minutes, he kissed me gently on the forehead and led me from the carnage in the barn. We kept our run to Sebastian’s at a leisurely pace, Bo ever-aware of my needs.

When we arrived, I was reminded of our houseguests. I had forgotten al about them until we passed the den on the way to the back bedroom. We didn’t even pause, however, just kept right on going.

Once we reached the bedroom, Bo bent and scooped me up, much as he’d done the last time, and carried me to the bed. Tenderly, he deposited me on top of the duvet, settling my head on the mound of pil ows.

“Rest,” he commanded softly. “I’l be back soon.”

I watched him go. When he shut the bedroom door, I tried to put him and everyone else out of my mind. I don’t know how long I lay there before I realized that my attempts at rest were futile. It must’ve been quite a while, though. I could feel my thirst gaining ground and clouding my mind. My thoughts rocked between physical need and the reliving of the surreal events of the last few hours, days, and weeks.

In many ways, my entire life seemed surreal. Wel most of it anyway. Some parts felt much more unbelievable than others. Unfortunately, it seemed that the painful parts were the ones I remembered most clearly, the ones that felt most real.

Each time I would try to push away the most bothersome memories in favor of the more pleasant ones, they would claw their way back to the surface of my mind and drag me back down into what felt like the depths of despair. There, they would swirl angrily with my ever-increasing thirst, each feeding on the other, growing more and more dominant of my thoughts.

Final y, tired of fighting, tired of thinking, tired of being awake, I turned on my side and I let the pain pour out of me in great heaves of agony. Tears streamed from my eyes, wetting the pil ow beneath my cheek. Eventual y, I cried myself to sleep, relieved to feel the comfort of oblivion carrying me away.

Almost as soon as I drifted off, something woke me. I wasn’t sure at first if it was a noise or the delicious scent of sandalwood and human blood. The smel was so intense, I knew the source had to be close.

The strength of the heavenly scent in the air coupled with my unpreparedness for it made my thirst increase exponential y. My throat burned like I’d swal owed acid. My chest ached with want of the sweet blood. My limbs stung with icy heat.

The last thing I was aware of was the prickling of my elongated canines against my lips. They were already prepared to penetrate flesh in order to satisfy my incredible yearning. My focus was singular. My need was violent.

When the doorknob to the bedroom twisted, it echoed in the silence, drowning out the drum-like thumping of my heart.

I watched breathlessly as the wood panel moved toward me, opening just a crack to reveal Cade’s handsome face on the other side.

Then, as if by merely thinking it, I was standing in front of him, taking him into my arms and burying my teeth in the deliciously-scented skin of his neck. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered that not only did he not resist, but he wrapped his muscular arms around me and held me close as I pul ed long gulps of his thick, warm blood into my mouth and let it pour down my fiery throat.

Almost immediately, I felt it singing in my veins and saturating my tissues, warming them, revitalizing them. The gift of his blood was bringing me back to life.

But then, al too soon, Cade was torn from my grasp and I found myself eye to eye with Bo.

“Get him out of here,” he cal ed sharply to someone over his shoulder. I didn’t see who. I couldn’t take my eyes from him, from his thunderous expression.

He looked angry. But he also looked worried and tired and hungry and delicious al at the same time. Without taking his eyes from mine, Bo reached behind him and slammed the door shut. I saw the change in him as his pupils widened. The deep, rich brown of his irises didn’t fade because his thirst had been satisfied. No, it was hunger that I saw. Hunger for me. Hunger for my soul, for my love, for my body.

Desire rippled through me at the look on his face. I almost forgot that I stil needed blood, that I stil ached for something other than Bo himself.

I could see intent in his eyes as he watched me. He wanted to take me, to satisfy the passionate hunger we’d felt for what seemed like an eternity already. He was as tired of fighting it as I was.

Rather than tearing my clothes off and whisking me away on a wave of sensual satisfaction, Bo tore open his wrist and held it to my lips. Without hesitation, I touched my tongue to the trickle and lapped it up, reveling in the taste. I closed my eyes to savor the flavor. There was no comparison to blood that came from Bo. Not even Cade’s delicious fluid could compete with the sweetness that pumped through Bo’s veins.

As I suckled greedily at his wrist, Bo walked me backward to the bed. When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, I stopped. Bo took his wrist from my mouth and covered my lips with his own.

He wanted me. Badly. I could taste it as plainly as I could taste his blood. And, somehow, it was even more delicious, even more irresistible.

When I felt his hands at my waist, I didn’t hesitate to lift my arms as he pul ed my shirt up over my head. Then his lips were on mine again, devouring me.

His hands roamed up and down my back until they stopped once more at my waist, coming around to my bel y. I felt his fingers working loose the button and zipper of my jeans.

He leaned back to look at me and then dropped to one knee to pul off my shoes before he eased my pants down my legs. Obligingly, I stepped out of them. Bo’s eyes never left mine as he stood.

Bending, he swept me up in his arms and laid me gently back on the bed, my head resting once more on the mountain of pil ows. The stimulating rasp of velvet against my naked skin sent a cascade of chil s skittering across my chest and bel y.

Backing away, Bo reached for the hem of his own shirt and peeled it off, revealing to my starving eyes the pale, smooth skin that covered his muscular chest and stomach.

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