Cynthia Eden - Once Bitten, Twice Burned

Her voice was husky, low, and sexy. It whispered with an accent he’d heard before, down in New Orleans. Smoky. Rolling.

“Please,” she said again, as her hands pushed against his chest.

But he couldn’t let her go. Ryder inhaled again. She smelled so good. He knew she’d taste even better. “Just a few sips,” Ryder told her because he was past the point of pulling away. The hunger was too strong. It wasn’t the man who wanted her blood. It was the beast who had no control.

She yelped and kicked out at him.

He barely felt the blows.

“Take as much as you need, Ryder,” the doctor’s satisfied voice told him. “She’s all yours.”

He grabbed the woman, twisted, and forced her back against the right wall. They were across from that damn two-way mirror, and his bigger body easily shielded hers, blocking her from Wyatt’s view. “I’m . . . sorry.” He barely managed to grit the words, but he had to say them. He hated her fear. Hated that he was the one who made her afraid.

She stopped struggling. “Don’t be sorry, just let me go.”

The thunder of her blood was the best music he’d ever heard. “Haven’t . . . fed . . . too long.”

“I’m not your midnight snack.” Her words were brave, but he saw the fear in her eyes. “I’m a person, dammit! Now let me go.”

He couldn’t. His head lowered toward her throat. “I’ll hold on to my . . . control.” Ryder hoped the words weren’t a lie. “I just need a little . . . blood.”

There was nowhere for her to run. She was pinned to the thick stone behind her and trapped with him in front of her. But she shoved her head back against the stone as she tried to put a feeble distance between them, and, unfortunately for her, that move just had the effect of exposing more of her throat to him.

“You can’t be real,” she whispered. “Your teeth . . . your eyes . . . none of this is real. They drugged me. I’m hallucinating.”

If only. Poor lady. She’d probably had no clue about the monsters that walked in this world, not until Wyatt had tossed her into hell. “Just . . . hold still. It’ll be . . . over soon.”

Just a few sips.

“No!” She screamed, then she rammed against him, a blow that was surprisingly powerful. Powerful enough to send him stumbling back five feet.

His ass hit the floor because he’d never expected that kind of attack from her. Humans weren’t strong enough to toss vamps around like that.

The intercom crackled. “Ah, now, Sabine, that wasn’t part of the deal. I told you that if you provided nourishment for my guest, then we’d discuss your freedom.”

Her chest heaved. A nice chest, he noticed, even through the rage and hunger. Full breasts.

“I’m not nourishment!” she yelled as she glared into the two-way mirror. “You can’t do this to me! I have rights!”

“Your rights don’t exactly apply here.” Wyatt didn’t sound concerned. Why would he? The guy had the might of the U.S. military backing his little “experiments.”

The worst fucking mistake the paranormals had ever made was coming out of the closet. But some idiots just couldn’t keep quiet. They’d shown themselves to humans. Gotten tired of living by the old ways—or hell, maybe even technology had been to blame. Too much advancement. Cameras everywhere. Eyes always watching.

It was hard to hide the beast inside when Big Brother was always spying on you.

So they’d come out, and now there were freaks like Wyatt who thought they could harness their paranormal power. Use science to make magic into their weapon of choice.

“If you aren’t cooperating, Ms. Acadia, we can always take you back to your cell.” Wyatt’s voice lowered and he said, “Guard, retrieve—”

“I don’t want my cell! I want to go home! I want—”

Ryder pounced. In an instant, he had her in his arms. He twisted her hands and secured them behind her body. She was struggling, definitely using more than just human strength, but he was prepared for her this time. She wasn’t getting away.

“I won’t hurt you,” he told her. And Ryder hoped the words weren’t a lie. Sometimes, the bite could bring a woman pleasure. A better release than sex.

Sometimes, the bite could bring pain. Worse than torture.

He didn’t want her to hurt.

His mouth was desert dry. His fangs fully extended and aching. He could already taste her.

I just want her.

His tongue swept over her neck. Sampled, then he sank his teeth into her throat.

The woman—Sabine—gasped against him. Her body arched into his as the first tender drops of her blood spilled onto his tongue.

“Make sure the recording is operational.” Wyatt’s voice seemed to come from far away. “I want to get every bit of this.”

But Wyatt and what he wanted didn’t matter. Sabine’s blood was on Ryder’s tongue, and her blood was like nothing he’d ever tasted in all of his years of existence. Not just warm—the blood was hot. Spicy. Rich with flavor. He wanted to lap it up, to savor it.

To gorge on it.

His hands hardened on her. He’d meant to take just a few drops.

He wanted to lift his head away. Wanted to so badly, but her blood was too good.

He drank more, greedy now. Desperate. Her blood flowed through him, heating his body from the inside out and sending tendrils of power pulsing through him. Some humans tasted of wine. Some of the euphoria that came from drugs.

No one had ever tasted like her. Life. Sex. Pleasure. Everything he wanted was right there, in her blood.

He drank deeper.

“S-stop.” Her voice was weaker than before.

He didn’t want to stop. He’d looked for this—he’d always wanted this taste. Craved it, when he hadn’t even known what he was missing. His body seemed to be growing stronger, the muscles tensing, with every drop of her blood that he took.

She sagged against him, and Ryder scooped her into his arms, holding her even when her head fell to the side and her breath rattled in her chest.

More.

More.

At first, he thought the urging was just inside of himself, but then he realized that bastard Wyatt was the one urging him on.

And the woman . . . Sabine wasn’t fighting him any longer. She barely seemed to be breathing.

He jerked his head away. Stared down at her in disbelief. He hadn’t taken that much, had he?

But he couldn’t remember how long he’d been drinking. He only knew—

I still want more.

He lifted her higher against his chest. Held her cradled in his arms. There was no more weakness for him. Only strength. But she . . .

Her lashes were closed.

A fear unlike any he’d known before had his whole body tensing. He’d just found her. Ryder knew he couldn’t lose her this soon. Not. Now .

And sure as hell not by his own hand. Or teeth.

He brought his wrist to his mouth. Slashed open the flesh. He knew what she needed. “Drink for me.” She’d be all right once she drank his blood.

“No!” Wyatt’s voice thundered out. “Stop! Put Sabine down and back away.”

“Fuck off.” He lowered them both to the floor so he could better tend to her. But he kept her close as he put his wrist to her mouth. “Drink.” She’d just need a little of his blood, and she’d heal.

If she’d just drink . . .

An alarm began to sound. Voices shouted over the intercom. Then footsteps rushed outside of his door. The guards were finally coming in to face him.

Now was the perfect time to kill them. But if he moved away from Sabine, she’d die. She needed more of his blood. She needed him to survive.

His eyes narrowed on her face. What are you? She’d been afraid, but she’d still fought him. She’d stared at a monster and asked to go home.