“It’s how we survive,” he explained, trying to make her see. “There are other cultures that feed off the blood of animals. The Portuguese are known for their savory blood rice from chickens.”
“That’s chickens!” her hand fluttered to her head and she pulled off her kapp. “This is ... cannibalistic.”
His jaw locked. “We do not eat people, Annalise.”
“But you drink their blood.” She turned away and gagged.
“Yours was the first human vein I drank from. We are only supposed to feed from our mates or from the veins of those who give freely—spouses. Otherwise, we survive on animals and plants.”
“Animal blood?”
“Yes. And the English maltreat lesser creatures, sentencing them to a lifetime of captivity before slaughtering them. Our animals are cherished. They offer us sustenance and we provide a safe and natural home for them to graze freely and live long lives.”
“I’ve had meat with every meal I’ve eaten here.”
He nodded. “But you can taste the difference. The meat doesn’t have the tang of fear or the hormones and antibiotics other farmers inject in their livestock. When an animal dies, its adrenaline lingers in the flavor. You won’t taste that here.”
She looked away, her lips firming.
“You know what I’m telling you is true.”
She sat on the bed. “Fine. But that’s not the issue, is it? I don’t care if your cows are happy and your meat is organic. You just told me you...” Her lips twisted and she looked away. “I can’t even say it.”
“I drink blood.”
A sharp shift cut through the air. Her eyes widened and she turned to him. The color leached from her face and the cold intrusion of fear sliced into him. Her fear.
“I know what you are,” she whispered.
Her toes slid to the floor and her eyes darted to the door. Her heartbeat hammered against her ribs and her pulse rippled just under the translucent skin of her throat. He heard the soft click of her swallow. Watched as her fingers closed over the bedpost.
He could smell her spiking adrenaline. Hear the slight creak of her weight shifting to the balls of her feet.
She bolted to the door, but he got there first, caging her between the wood and the wall of his bare chest. She screamed in a broken sob.
“You mustn’t run from me, Anna. My first instinct is to chase and I’m too weak to think clearly. I’ll hunt you.”
“Please,” she cried. “Don’t hurt me.”
Her chest pressed into the door, her hands covering her face. He touched her shoulder and she flinched.
“I would never willingly hurt you.”
Ragged breaths ripped past her lips as she pushed as close to the door as possible. Her adrenaline, her heartbeat, her quickened breathing, it all called to him, rousing responses in him that were unwanted.
His body hardened. “You have to calm down.”
“I can’t!”
He crowded closer to her, his eyes closing as his nose pressed to her hair. “Please, Anna. If not for me, for your own good.”
She stilled, her gasped breaths dicing up the silence.
“Good girl.” His nose pressed to the delicate skin where her throat met her shoulder. His fingers closed around her waist and she whimpered. His lips trailed with the weight of a feather, sensing the soft vibration of her rapid pulse. “Yes.”
His hand moved over her clothes, flattening to the front of her stomach and pulling her back from the door. She trembled, her face pressed to her palms as he carefully lifted her in his arms.
Her body curled tight the moment he had her in his arms. She hid from him, but also leaned into him for shelter.
“I have you.” He kissed the top of her hair and carried her to the bed. “So long as you don’t run from me, I won’t lose control.”
As he sat, she curled more on his lap, her feet tucking under her skirts and her face hiding in his shoulder. His arms cradled her protectively, petting over her hair and loosening the tie of her braid.
“Calm,” he whispered, trying to get her emotions to mirror his own. It wasn’t easy.
He fed twice today, but the animal blood no longer satisfied his hunger. By the time he left the Council, the last of her blood had left his system. His skin had burned on the journey home and his eyes felt washed in fire. The vertigo had returned with a vengeance and his temper held on by a thread.
Cain was missing and the Order had specific instructions to report any sighting of him. Once captured, he would be tried for his crimes. Adam should feel some level of concern, but he could feel nothing beyond the aching hunger for his mate at the moment—that and the damn weakness nauseating him.
He needed to feed, and he needed her blood. But he wanted her permission.
Everyone’s encouragement that he rush through the bonding was draining him even more. He felt their worry and stomached their growing anxiety the longer he delayed. It was why he suggested to his father that the family spend some time away from the house for the next while. He needed his strength so he could concentrate.