Blood Wolf (Vintage Collection) - Page 38

“Isabella, no!”

But it was too late. Scattered among the bottles of Guinness were white butchers’ bags. Sheep’s blood. Isabella gasped as her nerves tightened and her stomach cramped. Nausea overtook her.

“Oh, lass.” Rex held out his hand to her.

“My God.” Isabella choked out the works. “So it’s true.”

“Merlina should have told you.”

“She did. Only not in so many words. I never met her, you know.” Isabella swallowed the lump in her throat. “But I didn’t believe it.”

“Can’t say I blame you. Yanks usually don’t believe it. There aren’t many of us in the States. Not many in Europe anymore, either, for that matter. Those of us who have chosen to stay have settled here. In Padraig. Most are in Romania and Hungary. Some in Russia.”

Isabella stared at the white packets. “You drink blood.”

“Aye. Unnatural to you, I understand. But to us, it’s simply sustenance.”

“You’re not evil?”

He chuckled and reached for her. She backed away.

“Do I look evil to you?”

Isabella blinked. He didn’t appear evil. He had been kind to her. He had given her a job at a place she loved. And he was blisteringly attractive. Long black hair cascaded to his shoulders in silky waves. His eyes were the color of the summer sky. As if it had a mind of its own, her hand reached for his.

He pulled her into his arms. “I’ll tell you all about us, Isabella lass, but first…” He touched his lips to hers.

She shuddered as the tip of his tongue traced the seam of her mouth and probed for entrance.

“You’re so lovely, my Isabella,” he whispered against her lips. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first laid eyes on you.”

Isabella sighed and parted her lips. His tongue was gentle as he searched her mouth, and she responded without meaning to. She touched her tongue to his and began an exploration of her own. He tasted of cloves and Guinness, and some other tangy flavor that eluded her. She ran her tongue over his teeth but shrank back when she encountered the point of one fang.

The flavor she hadn’t recognized? Tangy and metallic? Blood.

She pushed him away. “It was you, wasn’t it? Suzanne was right.”

“What?”

“You gave her to them.”

“I can explain that, sweetheart. It was my nephew. I was trying to take care of him.”

“They tried to rape her! You’re a monster!”

“If you’ll just let me explain. I never meant her any harm. I—”

Isabella could listen to no more. He was a monster. A demon. A drinker of blood. A vampire!

She ran up the stairs and back into the store. Then out into the sunny afternoon. Her fingers shook as they touched her lips.

She had kissed a vampire. The vampire who had been an accessory to Suzanne’s near rape.

And she had liked it.

39

Damian followed her scent, her fear, ignoring the pain slicing through his side. She needed him. I’m coming, mo leannan, he called to her silently. Hang on, I’m coming.

His body led him to an old abandoned cottage on the outskirts of town. He stopped the bike and cased the outside of the small dwelling. Nothing unusual.

Damian heard nothing, but Suzanne’s scent penetrated him.

He entered the building with stealth.

“Voldlak,” a voice in the dark said. “I knew you’d come.”

Damian shuddered. That word again. Voldlak. He didn’t have a clue what it meant, but it spoke to him in a deep way he didn’t understand. His blood boiled.

“Show yourself,” he said. “Or hide in the shadows for all I care, you coward. I’ve come for Suzanne. Where is she?”

“Tied up at the moment, Voldlak. You and I have some unfinished business.”

The man came forward from the shadows. The large blond man whose fangs had been ready to pierce Suzanne’s throat that first night.

“You’ve the right of it,” Damian said. “We do have some unfinished business. The only reason you’re alive is because Suzanne stopped me from killing you that night.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you, Voldlak?”

“Why are you calling me that?”

The blond man’s eyes widened, his brow wrinkled. He inhaled deeply. “You’re Voldlak, all right.”

“I’m losing my patience.”

“Voldlak. Blood wolf.” He inhaled again. “You.”

Damian’s ears perked up at the word “wolf.” “Exactly what are you saying?”

“Voldlak. Blood wolf.”

“Take me to Suzanne, or I’ll rip your throat out right here.” His irises pulsed, the first step of the change. Looking down, he noticed the hair on his forearms thickening. “Take me to her now, or I promise you’ll regret it.”

The blond man stared at Damian. Suddenly, another man appeared, this one with hair even paler and a strikingly beautiful face. But eyes that glowed red in the dark room. “You’re losing concentration, Markus,” he said. “Can’t you sense it? He’s beginning the change.”

“I want Suzanne!” Damian roared. The wolf rose with a whoosh of his blood. He had to hold on, or he wouldn’t be able to save her. He concentrated and tried to keep the bones from snapping. Once the muscles ripped and bones snapped, he would not be able to stop the animal.

Tags: Helen Hardt Paranormal
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