“Mal—”
He sends Rylan a sharp look. “We see this through,” he repeats.
Something about this should bother me, but I can’t think past the fact Wolf’s hand has healed and I’ve licked it clean. “More.”
“Come here, little dhampir. I’ve got more for you.” Malachi leans back against the headboard and motions with his free hand. “Release her.”
Part of me expects Rylan to keep arguing, but he curses. “If this doesn’t work—”
“Stop thinking so hard and go by instinct.” Wolf shifts to kneel next to Malachi. His pale blue eyes take us in, more serious than he’s ever been. “Worst case, she takes too much, we wrestle her off him, gag her, and toss her in a basement until we figure things out.”
“That is not a plan,” Rylan snaps.
“It’s more of a plan than you have.”
Malachi drags the knife down the line of his throat. Too deep. Blood pours down his wide chest to his stomach. Too much blood.
I want it all. My mouth waters. “Let me go.”
Rylan releases me with another muffled curse. I waste no time straddling Malachi and licking my way up his chest to seal my mouth against the cut. Pure bliss has me closing my eyes and moaning. He wraps careful arms around me. “Take as much as you need. Everything I have is yours.”
I drink in deep pulls. Even through my bliss, I can feel the tension rising in the room with each minute that ticks by. Wolf shifts next to us, fidgeting as if he went to reach for me and stopped himself before he could make contact.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the overwhelming need eases. The cut on Malachi’s throat heals, and I give him one last long lick and press my forehead to his shoulder. For the first time since Wolf offered me his arm, my thoughts feel clear. My energy level, though, has plummeted. I can barely keep my eyes open. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“There she is,” Wolf says. He sounds relieved. “Had us worried for a minute, love.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. I can’t look at them. I just acted like a monster. I wasn’t thinking about them as men and people I care deeply about. The only thing that mattered to me was drinking as much of their blood as I could. “I don’t know what that was.”
Rylan abruptly stands. “I’m going to make some calls.”
Malachi goes still beneath me. I don’t have to lift my head to know they’re sharing one of those speaking glances that contain entire conversations. He and Rylan’s history lends to that sort of thing. They’ve certainly known each other long enough. A shudder works through Malachi’s body. “You’re sure?”
“We don’t know enough.”
“She’ll make demands.”
“She always does. We’ll have to deal with her eventually. Might as well get something out of it in the process.”
I don’t hear him leave, but the bond I share with each of them tugs as Rylan moves away. Maybe one day I’ll be able to pinpoint their location exactly, but for now I just get the vague feeling of increasing distance as he moves away from the house. I sigh. I can’t keep burrowing into Malachi’s chest like a coward. This—whatever this new complication is—needs to be faced.
“You’re not a coward,” Malachi says softly.
“Nah, not a coward.” The bed shifts as Wolf tosses himself down onto it. “Just a cute little dhampir-slash-seraph in over her head.”
I forgot—again—that they can read my mind now. Or at least glean my thoughts and feelings on occasion. Before they were taken, one of the things Malachi and I were working on was teaching me how to shield properly. Another thing to add to the list.
I take a deep breath and straighten. My current exhaustion level feels different than I’ve gotten used to. It’s less feeling sick and unable to function than feeling deliciously sated. That will scare me later, maybe. I press my hand to my stomach. For once, the awful nausea that usually rises after I eat is nowhere in evidence. “The little monster would prefer blood to solid food.” I can’t live on blood, though. At least, I’m reasonably sure I can’t. All the dhampirs I know lean human in that way.
But then, I’m not human at all, am I?
“Do seraphim eat?”
“I have no idea.” Wolf props himself up on one arm next to Malachi. “Rylan will come back with answers.”
I twist to glance out the door he left through. He’s farther afield now, and he seems to be pacing. “Who’s he going to contact?”
Silence greets me and I turn to find them looking at each other as if deciding how much to tell me. Irritation flashes. “I would think we’re past you hiding things from me.”
“It’s for your own good.”
I glare at Malachi. “I think it’s better I decide what’s for my own good. I’m not a child. Stop treating me like one.” When they still hesitate, frustration blooms. “If we manage to kill my father, I will take his place. How long do you think I’ll be able to hold his throne when you don’t treat me like an equal?”