Bite Me (Vampire Wardens Resurrection 1)

“What part of downtown?”

“The Gulch,” she says.

“I like The Gulch,” I reply, having done a little hunting in that area a few years back. The fact that Marcus sent me there, to her territory, is now far more interesting than it was then. “I prefer The Gulch over the Broadway crowd,” I add.

“Broadway is touristy,” she says. “Loud and sweaty and just consuming. A bit of a Vegas feel with probably even more drunk people than sin city. The Gulch is more culture and food. What do you do for a living?”

“Me and a couple of friends run a private security company,” I say, my standard answer to the question.

“What kind of security?” I ask, ever so curious about this man and his life.

“We aren’t cheap, and neither are our clients,” he replies. “Aside from our private clients we consult with the local officials.”

I’m intrigued and want to ask more, but the moment is lost.

We’re now at the front of the hotel and one of the doormen, Nelson, greets me. “Evening, Eli.” And then to Ivy, he adds, “Ms. Miller. I hope you’re enjoying the city.”

“I am,” she assures him. “Very much. I tried that coffee shop you suggested. It’s absolutely yummy. Thank you, Nelson.”

He beams. “So happy you enjoyed it.”

She has a way about her, I think.

An Ivy way about her.

“You never recommended any damn coffee for me, Nelson,” I grumble.

He laughs. “Yes, well, you’re more the donut kind of guy, now aren’t you?”

“Oh donuts,” she says. “Please tell me where to get good ones. I love donuts.”

I force myself to bite back an offer to take her to my favorite spot. “Sugar Tops, just around the corner,” Nelson supplies. “You won’t be sorry.”

“I’ll go soon,” she says. “And bring you some back, too.”

She waves at Nelson, and together we step through the sliding glass doors, the walk to the elevators short, and once there, I punch the up button. The idea of being alone with her in a small space stirs that clawing sensation in me, the hunger, the thirst—not that it ever left, but it’s stronger now, burning through me. A car dings and while I want to let her go, I need to let her go, I also know I have to be able to find her, protect her. The doors open and I step inside with her.

I follow her and damn it, another couple joins us. She punches in her floor. I don’t punch mine. The other couple punch in theirs. In silence, the five of us ride upward until the couple exits. We’re alone again, the car moving, seconds ticking, only her destination lit up.

The elevator halts. The doors open. She turns to me. “Are you—do you want—?”

“Yes,” I say, taking her hand, the touch heating my cold blood.

I lead her into the hallway, reading her mind and knowing her room number, but she tells me anyway. “707.”

We stop at her door and she slides in the key. I tell myself I won’t stay. To turn her requires multiple exchanges of blood when not long ago, we believed a mate had to be drained and fed to turn. But I don’t need more than one exchange for a mental bond, just enough to find her if she needs me.

She swipes her card and then turns to me. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What are we doing?” She doesn’t give me time to answer, adding. “I don’t normally do this. I don’t know you.”

I step into her, hand on her waist, the other cupping her neck under her hair, my legs aligning with hers as I walk her back into the room.

“I—” she says, and then she’s backed against her wall, and I’m already kissing her, stroking tongue to tongue.

She moans, and my body moans with her, need consuming me. My lips leave hers and find her neck, teeth sinking into her flesh. She gasps as the drugging effect of my teeth consumes her, demanding her submission. I drink the sweet liquid, the taste of her blood addictive, the shift inside me real in ways I didn’t think possible. I don’t know what Ivy tasted like, but I know how she felt, how she smelled. And those things are far too familiar right here, right now. It fucks with my head. I pull back, lick the wound, and seal it.

She pants as I pull back and stare down at her. “What did you just do?” she whispers. “What just happened?”

“Nothing you will remember,” I compel her. “Just like you won’t remember this.”

I bite my wrist and hold it to her mouth, my eyes again compelling her to do what I never allow anyone: to take from me. “Drink,” I order.

Her mouth covers my wound and she gently sucks, but I don’t allow her to take much. Just enough to enhance her senses. She’ll sense danger more readily. She’ll know evil when she's in its presence.