Love Bites

His love.

He fought to drag his fangs from her wrist as the wild hunger began to ebb. Her succulent flesh, ripe with blood and coated in the smell of rich coffee, soap, and her own sexual perfume, proved more than he could withstand.

His eyes locked on hers, already drugged from the sensuous pull of his teeth. “I can’t stop.”

“Don’t.” She panted the word. “Don’t.”

Was she asking him to stop? Or to continue? He had no way of knowing but for the barometer of her blood. He didn’t taste her fear any longer, just pleasure. Just need. Endless, towering need.

But fears of draining her loomed in his mind, and he didn’t have Lucas to act as ballast if she needed an infusion. So he made himself pull away, though the effort cost him immeasurably.

Sydney gazed at him in the charged darkness, her green eyes huge enough to swallow him whole. “You could’ve had more.”

She had to have been near capacity yet she offered herself. Love surged through him. He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He only shook his head.

Sydney stroked her knuckles over Emily’s cheek. Her lips had gone slack, though blood still ran in rivulets into her mouth. The jerk of her throat showed she still swallowed, but she appeared asleep.

Another one. Why the hell didn’t anyone turn the way they were supposed to anymore? In the old days, the change had generally invoked the ravages of the hell vampires were said to hail from. Now after little more than a nap, a new nightdweller was born.

“I smell her arousal now,” Sydney said, the statement laced with wonder and an edgy tension Kellan knew was lust.

Bisexuality was hardly uncommon among vampires, or humans for that matter. The urge for sex often didn’t discriminate, but people could, if they chose. He’d chosen long ago only to sleep with females, but that didn’t mean Sydney would choose only males.

And if it came to that, would he be able to watch her with Emily as he’d watched her with Lucas? Would finding his soul’s mate mean he had to learn to share her?

He drew in a deep, heady breath, tinged with both Sydney’s and Emily’s need. Their scents were individual. Sydney’s was bittersweet, like pure dark chocolate straight from the cocoa bean. Emily’s was sharper, keener, the smell of ozone stinging the air before a storm. And his own, crisp like a woodland after midnight when only the creatures of the night dared to play, layering over both.

“She’ll need more than blood soon.”

“I warned her.” Sydney leaned forward, and for a moment, her hands hovered over Emily’s breasts, still partially exposed. Then she closed her bra and pulled the panels of her blouse together. “She said she was prepared. She…kissed me.”

He waited for a reaction. Irritation. Jealousy. Possessiveness. But he could only gaze at the limp, dozing girl that Sydney cuddled in her lap as if she were a precious doll.

“She was determined,” was all he said.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Her lips firmed and she merely shook her head. A moment later, she whispered, “Will she survive?”

“I can’t say. Nothing is as it used to be. Turning is usually exquisitely painful, but she seems to be mostly at peace. As you were.” He tried to keep his tone neutral. “Though you didn’t fully change.”

“The transition wasn’t as bad because of my latency. We read up. Did all the research.” She gave him a small, pained smile. “The only thing we couldn’t find was how to make it go away.”

“You cannot. You are what you are, Sydney. Now, more than ever.” Kellan gestured at Emily. “She wanted the change enough to risk everything. Why must you fight it so?”

“I don’t have her reasons. Honestly, I don’t know if she wanted to be a vampire, or simply wanted to escape herself.” Sydney held up a hand before he could question her further. “Wait. Wait. She drank from me. Not much, but I managed to get some of my blood into her. Could that have affected her change? The books said the essence of a latent has special healing properties, even beyond those of a vampire. We’re made up of the best—and worst—of both worlds.”

“You certainly healed me.” Until you ripped me open again….

“Kellan.” Her faint embarrassment tickled him in light of all that had come before. “Maybe I should give her more, if it would ease her turning. I don’t want her to suffer.”

“She’s not suffering.” Gently, he nudged Emily’s mouth away from his arm. The wound was already closing. “She’s resting.”

“When she wakes, she’ll need more blood.”

“Yes.”