The Fall (The Lycans 7)

She came closer, my fangs aching and every feral, predatory part of me telling me to drain her dry and become stronger.

She touched my arm and I snapped.

She was so good, better than anything I’d ever tasted, the sweetest wine. I flattened my body against hers and felt how soft and feminine she was.

Her blood rushed through my veins, and I felt my strength rise up tenfold, growing and growing until it roared in my head.

And still I drank my fill, swallowing mouthfuls at a time. I could feel her struggle against me. But I was too greedy, too hungry to stop.

I moaned. She was tiny, soft.

She was…

Oh fuck.

I ripped away from her and panted, leaning back on my haunches to stare down at her. My heart was beating overtime, her blood rushing to every part of my body and knitting, healing everything from the inside out.

With each passing second my vision became clearer, crisper. I could see every minute detail in the dark cave, every little detail of her.

She had long, dark red hair, big green eyes, a splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and pouty red lips that were currently pursed as if she were… pissed.

Her horrified expression turned to one of anger. She lifted her hand and touched the side of her throat, and I lowered my gaze to stare as she pulled her blood-covered fingers away.

I touched my fingers to my lips, looked down at the digits, and a harsh noise left me as I saw that red covered the pads.

I’d just… I’d just attacked my female. I damn near fucking drained her dry.

“Get off,” she hissed.

I spied tiny fangs as she cursed me, but instantly rolled off her. Her hair fell over her shoulder as she pushed herself up, and that’s when I saw little pointed ears.

“This is what I get for saving your life?” She narrowed her eyes at me before walking over to the fire and crouching to riffle through a bag. She pulled out a rag and pressed it to her throat, cutting a withering glare at me. “Who knew my mate was such an asshole?”

Chapter

Four

Ada

The asshole had just bitten me, pinned me down and forced his fangs into the side of my neck.

I was… pissed.

I held the cloth to the side of my throat, the sting of his bite slowly starting to diminish. My heart was racing, adrenaline rushing through my veins because I had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Fated mates or not, the vampire hadn’t been in his right mind. I didn’t even think he heard or saw me, if I were being honest.

Which had a little voice whispering in my mind that he “technically” wasn’t to blame for being a barbarian because he hadn’t known what was going on.

But I wasn’t going to listen to that little voice. I was tired and hungry, thirsty, and just done with everything.

There was also another sensation that was butting heads with all those other feelings. And it was one I wanted to really ignore.

Nope. I wasn’t going to go there. I was so not going to even entertain the idea that physically I kind of… enjoyed his bite, or the feeling of his big, hard body over mine.

“I…”

I glanced over at him. He exhaled roughly and ran his big palm over the back of his head, disheveling the short, dark strands.

He looked positively destroyed, but as I stared at his mouth and saw a trail of my blood sliding out of the corner, any sympathy I felt toward his being upset vanished.

He turned and looked at me and took a step forward. I held up my hand, palm outward, and shook my head. “Don’t even think about it.”

He gritted his teeth, and I saw a muscle under his scruff-covered jaw clench. His eyes flashed red, and his hands curled into fists at his side.

Seems like Lover Boy here isn’t used to not getting his way.

I pulled the cloth away and looked down, the dingy color saturated red with my blood. I didn’t have super healing powers despite being an Otherworld, so I’d have this visual of his lack of control branded on my neck for who knew how long.

When he looked back at me, we were at a standoff, both of us refusing to break eye contact, the sound of him grinding his teeth echoing in the cavern.

His eyes were still red, but after a second he closed them, his nostrils flaring as he slowly inhaled and exhaled. And when he finally opened his eyes again, the color had bled out so it was normal once more.

And just like that a stoic expression was on his face, his shoulders and muscles weren’t tense, and he looked at me as if he had zero emotion.

Great. I’m mated to a psycho.