This Time Tomorrow (Phenomenal Fate 2)

Elias strode into the bedroom with a dripping wet Roksana in his arms, the heart she’d awoken hammering painfully in his chest. Dammit, she’d tried to overcome her injuries too soon. It had only been a matter of days since he’d found her bruised and unconscious. Fighting fae and traveling back the States must have taken a toll. She might be fierce and strong, but she was still human, and that fact was never more obvious.

“I never should have let you leave me,” he whispered jaggedly. “I never should have let you out of my sight.”

Christ, he’d been a man possessed when it came to her safety before drinking her blood. Now, though…this clawing sense of desperation riddled him. It came screaming from the deepest pit of his soul, demanding she be made safe and happy. And he was beginning to suspect that the incessant burning inside of him had been there since the moment he met Roksana. Waiting in the wings. Hadn’t he been aware all along of the demanding draw between them?

Mate, my mate, my mate.

He hated himself for hungering for her body and blood when she was suffering in his arms. But having her near made his throat constrict, made his thirst urgent, painful. Extreme. But his concern for her far outweighed his own discomfort. He’d live with it as long as possible. Forever if she required it.

Elias made a hoarse sound and turned in a circle. What was wrong with him? He knew how to care for her, but the possibility of not caring for her well enough shook him to the core.

“I don’t feel so good, vampire,” Roksana whispered into his neck—and he almost fucking lost it right there. Almost erupted into flames and burned down the whole vampire stronghold.

“I know, baby. I know,” he managed raggedly, sitting down on the edge of the bed with Roksana lengthways across his lap. His hands felt clumsy while unzipping the back of her leather dress. “We’re going to talk about the fact that you rode on a commercial airplane in this outfit.”

“Nyet.” Her head lolled against his shoulder. “We will not.”

Keep her talking. He needed her conscious, not only for her health, but his sanity. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I set things on fire now. This dress is next on the list.”

“I have to admit, the fire thing is pretty badass—” She broke off on a wheeze, her left hand twisting in the collar of his shirt. “Oh God, oh God it hurts.”

Helplessness and distress whipped up inside of Elias and the lights snapped and sizzled in the room, his distressed bellow cutting through the noise. “What the hell is wrong, Roksana? Have you eaten…” Understanding struck him, tightening every tendon in his body and throwing the final ingredients into the stew of his possessiveness. Could it be?

Vampires and humans were rarely mated, but on the rare occasion it happened, one mate could feel the other’s pain. Jonas and Ginny had gone through it and Elias could now understand the utter agony of knowing your woman suffered because of you. His body’s misery stemmed from hunger for Roksana’s blood and it refused to abate. It ground against his bones, his brain, his jugular. That she could be experiencing anything resembling this was unacceptable. A crime.

“You are not suffering from your injuries. This is something else. You are my mate and I am yours.”

A weak snort. “You wish.”

“Christ, I can’t bear knowing you feel an ounce of this hunger.” He finally succeeded in removing the skin-tight dress and quickly stripped off his own shirt, praying his damnably low body temperature helped in some small way to warm her. Not enough. Even as he rocked her in his arms, he scanned the room for a blanket. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

A deep groove formed between her brows. “You are feeling this, too?”

“Don’t you dare worry about me.”

“Maybe I’ll just kill you and the pain will go away,” she gasped.

“I thought of that already,” he said truthfully, turning and ripping the comforter off the bed, wrapping it around them. “But then I’d no longer be alive to protect you.”

The distress that kindled in her expression told Elias she’d only been joking—and his response had been too telling. But another wave of pain distracted her, bowing her back and making her tremble. He couldn’t stand another second of the agony.

With her bare body pressed to his, the bedclothes surrounding them in a cloud, he turned and laid her down on the mattress, unable to stop himself from kissing her shoulders, her cheeks, her forehead, the contact soothing some of his restlessness. “I don’t know if I can do this when you’re weak,” he said thickly. “It feels wrong.”

Roksana’s hand lifted, her palm conforming the back of his head, and she pulled him down, tilting her head to one side and exposing her neck. “Maybe I don’t want you to die just yet, vampire,” she whispered, not looking at him. “Don’t let it go to your head.”