She bit her lip and glanced away. Then, voice whisper-soft, Paige said, “Nothing that matters now.”
Every single thing about her mattered.
He put his hand on her shoulder, being careful not to touch the bloody wound. She still flinched.
Because he’d hurt her…or because he’d touched her? She’d once begged for his touch. But that had been long ago.
Another damn life.
Locking his back teeth, Drake gritted, “Why aren’t you healing?”
She shrugged and still didn’t look him in the eyes.
He reached behind her and yanked on the water in the shower. The water thundered out in a hot rush and steam began to drift in the air. He didn’t worry about another attack interrupting them, not then. He’d put extra guards on sentry duty. The vamps wouldn’t be getting close again.
They’d just be dying soon.
“Too much blood loss can kill a vamp.” He knew because he’d killed his share that way before. A slow, painful death. Some folks deserved that kind of death.
Some didn’t.
The vamps who’d killed his family? They’d deserved every single moment of agony that he’d given to them.
“It’s almost stopped bleeding,” she told him. “I’ll be all right.” She glanced toward the water.
He put his hand on the curve of her waist. “You need blood.” No way to get around that. She’d been hurt, and she’d bled too much. For a vamp to get her strength back and heal, she’d need to drink.
“Yeah, well…” She gave a rough laugh that was nothing like the light, happy peal she’d once had, “Something tells me that wolves don’t exactly keep extra blood bags around for the vamp company that comes calling.”
No, they didn’t.
But if she needed blood…his gaze locked on her mouth. Her full lips. Her white teeth. Her delicate fangs.
A vampire bite is hell. Agony. Pain and degradation.
How many times had he heard that line from other wolves? Too many.
So why was he even thinking about offering her his throat?
Because it’s her. And because she saved your ass out there. No matter what else she might be doing or planning, Paige had stopped the vamp from firing that silver into his heart. A few more inches to the right, and Drake knew he would’ve been dead.
She’d saved him and wasn’t that worth a few drops of blood?
He caught her chin. Lifted her head. Her gaze found his, finally. The water flowed behind her, and that steam heated the air. “Take from me,” he told her. When an alpha gave an order, that order was obeyed. No question.
Her brow furrowed. “Um, take what?”
He caught her fingers–damn, her skin was soft–and lifted them to his throat. “Take.” He could handle this for a few minutes. He’d lock down his mind. Pretend he wasn’t being used as food and–
She snatched her hand back. Horror had her green eyes widening. “I can’t!”
She sure as hell could. “You’ve got the fangs, sweet, just sink them in.” Not like this was her first bite. She must have bled plenty of humans in her time. Bastards.
Without blood, vamps would turn to dust.
But she was shaking her head at him. “I-I’ll just take a quick shower and wash up. I’ll heal soon, and everything will be–”
Well, damn, didn’t she want his blood? Now he was starting to feel insulted. “Drink from me.” Her whole body was shaking. She needed blood. Take it.
He wasn’t gonna sit there while she got weaker. He could help her. Her fangs would sink into his flesh, and she’d feed on him. The other wolves would think he was insane for offering his neck to her. So what? Screw them.
This was for her.
Only she was still shaking her head and looking like he’d just shoved a snake at her face. “I can’t.”
“You got something against shifter blood?” Which wouldn’t make a bit of sense. Paranormals had blood that was far more powerful than that of humans.
And vamps were always about power.
Her gaze dropped to his throat. He saw her eyes widen. Saw the flicker of raw hunger on her face. She wanted his blood. No missing that.
Why wasn’t she taking it?
“Y-you don’t…understand…” Her gaze was still on his neck. “Drinking is…”
His hands curled around her waist. “I don’t want to hear about all the men you’ve tasted.” Because he’d just want to give those jerkoffs a whole world of hurt. Her mouth, on them. His beast roared. Kill. “Just…do it.”
Her laughter held a wild edge. “You’re not listening to me! I can’t!” Her voice dropped as she confessed, “Because I never have before.”
What the hell?
The words were a lie. They had to be. Drake’s hands tightened on her. “You’re a vamp. You have to drink to survive.”
“Not from a live s-source.” Her lips quivered. “I’ve never…When I drink, I-I use blood bags. I don’t take from people! Not directly.”
He frowned at her. He’d heard the rumors and whispers about some vamps going all bite-free and trying to blend better with the rest of the world. A newer, more human-friendly vamp.
He’d thought those stories were bullshit.
The vamps who’d attacked him tonight sure hadn’t been the blending variety.
“Just…give me a few minutes,” Paige told him. She pulled away. Stripped off the rest of her clothes–sweet hell–then stepped into the huge shower with its curtain of steam. “I’ll be okay.”
The hell she would.
She was in his home, back with him, and he was supposed to just stand back while she needed?
His jaw clenched as he gritted out, “We don’t have blood bags.” Why would they? It wasn’t like werewolves entertained vamps. No blood bags on the premises, and there wasn’t any damn way to get them right then.
Her body slid beneath the pounding water. Paige sighed softly and the sound was like a stroke right over his cock.
As she turned beneath the spray, letting the water pour down her back, her eyes began to drift closed. Did she really think he was just gonna walk away? He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt when he’d raced outside. No shirt, no shoes. Just a pair of jeans stained with blood. His hands went to the snap.
When his zipper eased down with a hiss, her eyelids flew back open.
Ah, heard that, did you? A vamp’s hearing was almost as good as a shifter’s.