"Corinne," he said gently, drawing her hand away and holding it in his own. "I cannot do what you ask. Even if my ability to read blood memories extends beyond my own kind, what you're asking would have far-reaching consequences."
"I know what it means," she insisted. "Won't you even try?"
"It doesn't work on mortal humans," he pointed out, hoping to dissuade her. "I've fed from them all my life, with no psychic effect whatsoever. There is a good chance my talent is confined to Breed memories alone. If I drink from you now, where will that leave us? You are a Breedmate. Our blood bond would be inextricable. It would be forever."
Her expression muted, eyelashes shuttering her gaze. "You must think me the worst kind of low, to press you into giving me something you have every right to save for a female who will be worthy of you, more suitable as your mate."
"God, no," he murmured, hating that she'd misunderstood. "That's not it at all. Any male would be privileged to have you. Don't you realize that? I am the one who's unworthy." He lifted her chin, imploring her to see that he meant every word. "If I drink your blood and my talent works as you hope it will, I don't want to be the one to disappoint you."
"How could you?" she asked, her brow knit in confusion.
"If my talent works and we find your son, I don't want you to despise me if it turns out the boy is beyond our help."
She gave a small shake of her head. "Despise you? Do you think I could possibly hold you responsible for what's happened to Nathan? I wouldn't, Hunter. Not ever ..."
"Not even if I was forced to raise my hand against him in combat?"
Her expression turned fearful now, wary. "You wouldn't do that."
"If it comes down to a matter of protecting you, I would have no choice," he answered grimly. "If I agreed to help you find him, Corinne, I can make no promises that the outcome will be what you hope for."
She considered it for a long moment, time during which Hunter grappled with whether or not to divulge the vision that had been haunting him nearly from the moment he'd first laid eyes on beautiful Corinne Bishop. Some foolish part of him hoped for an out - that his talent would fail to read her blood memories or that somehow, in defiance of Mira's unerring gift of precognition, he could thwart the eventuality of Corinne's tears and futile pleas for his mercy. In the time it took for him to run through the mental torture, Corinne drew a deep breath and met his gaze once more. There was no hesitation in her eyes, only bold, unwavering resolve.
"Do this, Hunter. If you care even a little bit for me, then please, do this. I accept any risk, and I will trust you to do what you must."
He felt sick with dread at the bravery in her words. The knowledge of what likely lay ahead of them made his stomach twist with bitter bile.
But then Corinne moved closer to him. She gathered her long dark hair and swept it aside, baring her neck to him. She tilted her head, an offering he knew he would be too weak to deny.
"Please," she whispered. "Please ... do this for me."
His hot gaze rooted on the small pulse that ticked beneath her delicate skin. Saliva surged into his mouth. His fangs ripped out of his gums, a fierce reminder of just how long it had been since he'd fed. Henry Vachon's rank lifeblood had been more poison than nourishment, a foulness he longed to blot out with the taste of something sweet and intoxicating, like the nectar that flowed through Corinne's tempting veins.
"Please," she murmured again, an enticement he could not resist.
Hunter put his mouth onto her neck and carefully bit down, penetrating the soft flesh with the razor-sharp points of his fangs. She gasped at the invasion, her body tensing through the momentary pain he'd inflicted. And then she was melting against him, her muscles going lax and pliant as he drew the first sip of her blood into his mouth.
Ah, God ... she was so much more than he could ever have imagined.
Her warm blood coursed over his tongue like a balm. He felt it absorbing into his body, into his cells. Into every particle of his being.
She was sweet and warm against his tongue, her blood scent filling his nostrils with the delicate fragrance of dark bergamot and tender violets. He breathed her in, drenching his senses with the delicious taste of her, a taste that would be stamped into every fiber of his being for as long as he was alive to draw breath.
Although this was an act of compassion, of necessity, not a true blood-bonding between himself and his mate, everything Breed in him - everything hot-blooded and male - responded to the warm, sweet taste of Corinne as though she belonged to him in every way. Arousal roared up on him swiftly, a desire that pounded through his veins and into his hardening cock like wildfire. He clutched her close as he drank still more. He felt a heat ignite deep within him and knew instinctively that the bond was taking shape regardless of intention, lashing her to him inexorably. She was his now, and the logic that had shaped him all his empty life seemed to abandon him as he tried to tell himself that allowing this visceral link - for any reason - had been a mistake.
All he knew was the heat of her blood as it filled him, the pleasure of holding her in his arms ... the need that made him groan with desire as he lifted her and carried her with him to the bed.
He laid her down, his mouth still fixed to the pulse that beat like a tiny drum against his tongue. He wanted to make love to her all over again, wanted to strip her naked and bury himself as deep as possible within the comfort of her body.
His senses were flooded with need, his body on fire, electric and rigid with the force of his passion for her.
At first, he didn't notice the sudden flickers of darkness that jolted his mind. He tried to push them away, lost to the pleasure of everything that was Corinne. But the abrupt images kept coming, kept battering at the back of his consciousness.
Flashes of a dark prison cell.
Minions dressed in white lab uniforms, coming in to wheel Corinne away. The screams of a female in agony ... followed by the blustering wail of a newborn infant. Hunter drew back from Corinne's neck, stunned, stricken.
"What is it?" she asked him, her eyes wide, fearful. "Are you okay?"