Chapter 6 #2
The room he leapt into smelled of a flowery mixture combined with an exotic food scent—not unpleasant, but foreign. Over those smells he picked up the odors of fear and her blood. The creature torturing her would die.
“Who’s the fake man?” Skarde asked. “You?”
The human male jumped off her and spun so fast he tripped over a small table but righted himself immediately.
The human was average height, which meant the smaller male had to look up to challenge Skarde.
“Where’d you come from? What the hell are you wearing?
Leather pants? Are you a cosplay weirdo?
” He addressed Gemma. “Is this what turns you on? Do you make him dress up before you suck him off?”
The asshole thought himself a threat, waving his tiny knife.
She blinked up at both of them, dazed. She could have a head injury.
With a chuckle that sounded evil as shit even to his ears, Skarde brandished his own blade, which was four times as large as the man’s, serrated, and gleaming after its recent sharpening. “Try your best.”
His vision burned with all the pent-up anxiety of the past few weeks and the need to shred this human for hurting the mysterious woman.
Whatever comprehension the human had of his mortality faded. He discharged a squeal of madness and lunged, fully intent on stabbing Skarde’s chest. The angle was off, given their height disparity. A gut wound would’ve been a better objective. His advance was pitiful.
Skarde itched for a decent fight. Something that might leave him with a few bruises, maybe even a gash he’d feel an hour from now, but this… It wasn’t even worth expending the energy to tolerate.
Too easily he stepped out of the knife’s path and caught the attacker’s arm. He bent against the bone’s natural angle until it snapped. The knife dropped at the same time the human let loose a shrill wail.
A fist around his throat cut off the annoying racket.
Although tempted, Skarde stopped the squeeze short of crushing the human’s windpipe.
He’d drink him out and put the loony creature out of its misery.
The starvation of weeks without blood urged him to bite.
But as Skarde’s head descended toward his prey’s neck, Gemma’s horrified stare registered in his peripheral vision.
Jaw clenched, he drove the blood hunger to the back of his mind. Doing so left him twitchy.
He released the male but caught him by the hair before he fell completely. With an effortless lift, he threw him to the ground hard enough to knock him out. Not dead. The heart still pumped blood. He’d save the meal for later.
She had already removed whatever the human put over her mouth. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Not anymore.”
She stared at the human as if the man would jump at her again.
“Is your head damaged?” he asked.
She touched her head. “I don’t think so. I hit my shoulder. How are you here and still a vampire?”
“Did you expect me to turn into a fairy prince when I crossed through your magical doorway?”
She blinked up at him.
“There’s nae an ounce of royal blood here, unless you count the time I drained dry the prince over in Kentshire.” He grinned enough to show off his elongated canines.
“I don’t know how the doorway works.” She pointed at the human on the ground. “Is he dead?”
“Not yet.” He nudged the human with a toe, half hoping he’d stir and provide a better fight.
She swallowed hard. “Your eyes…the whites of them went red, which happens on the show before you go psycho killer. Are you okay now?”
The show? Maybe she’d been watching him for a lot longer than he thought. He wasn’t as bothered by it as he should be.
“Sure.” Liar. His blood hunger shifted focus from the male on the floor to her pulsating jugular. She smelled so much better. Fresher.
He swayed. His breaths came out ragged. No biting. Count in your head before you touch her. One, two, three…
He ached to close the space between them, to lift her up by her waist and pin her against the wall. He’d rip off her clothes and bury himself deep inside her while he drank deep from her neck. The moment he struck her vein she’d orgasm, as would he. Fuck, he wanted it.
He could use persuasion on her. She’d come harder, though, if not under mental inducement.
He couldn’t.
I want it.
It would be wrong. Dangerous.
One bite injected the vampire poison. Then he’d have no choice but to kill her. No turning her. Not now. Not ever.
She launched herself at him.
He caught her against his chest and froze. This woman had no sense of self-preservation. He didn’t breathe on purpose to limit breathing in the smell of her. The need for blood…need for naked flesh…
One step toward the wall. Another…
“He would’ve killed me. I didn’t realize I had nothing here to fight with until…” Her arms wrapped him, and she buried her head in his neck. Her breaths tickled his skin.
The thump-thump, thump-thump of her heartbeat mesmerized him.
“I guess we both saved each other from a scripted death,” she said against his neck. “The Grim Reaper won’t be happy with us.”
“He’ll resume his hunt,” he gritted out. A growl started deep in his throat. He twisted her neck and kissed down the column. Her pulse teased his tongue.
She moaned.
His teeth scraped the delicate skin of her neck.
This obsession was a far cry from the pale, anemic desire he’d felt for females in the past.
Balls, he was going to break.