A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(33)

After the bath, he’d dried her, dressed her in one of her gowns—the chit hadn’t asked for his shirt again—then placed her in bed. She’d looked up at him solemnly and voiced her concern that he might “wig out” again. When he’d assured her he wouldn’t sleep, she’d regarded the floor with longing, actually reaching down to touch it, then passed out.

Now he glanced at the folds in the curtains, and saw no light beneath each one. The last two nights she’d woken precisely at sundown. There was no yawning or shaking off sleep—she’d simply opened her eyes, rising in a floating way, instantly awake as if she’d been brought back to life. Lachlain had to admit he found this foreign trait…eerie. Of course, he’d never seen this before—in the past, any vampire asleep in his presence never woke again.

At any moment now, her eyes would open, and he put aside the book to watch.

The sun set. Minutes passed. She still didn’t rise.

“Get up,” he said, shaking her shoulder. When she didn’t respond, he shook her harder. They needed to get on the road. He thought they could make Kinevane tonight and he was anxious to see his home.

She burrowed down farther in the covers. “Let…me…sleep.”

“If you doona get out of bed, I’m going to rip off your clothes and join you there.”

When there was no reaction even to that, he grew alarmed and felt her forehead—her skin was like ice.

He drew her up and her head lolled. “What’s wrong with you? Tell me!”

“Leave me alone. Need another hour.”

He laid her back down. “If you’re sick, you need to drink.”

After a moment, she cracked open her eyes.

Realization hit and his body tensed. “This is from hunger?” he roared.

She blinked up at him.

“You told me you ate Monday—how often do you need to?”

When she didn’t answer, he shook her shoulders.

“Every day. Okay?”

He dropped her shoulders just before his fists clenched. She’d been hungry? His mate had suffered from f*cking hunger while under his protection. He had no idea what he was doing….

Goddamn it, he couldn’t care for her. Not only had he starved her for two additional days—obviously he’d kept her from hunting—but she needed to find a victim to drink every night. Each night they would go through this.

Did she kill each time as other vampires did? “Why did you no’ tell me?”

Her eyelids were drifting closed again. “So you could make another ‘bargain’?”

Could he allow her to take from him? Among his clan, being drunk by a vampire was reviled, considered a filthy act. Even if it was done against his will, a Lykae would suffer abject shame. But what choice did he have? He exhaled and said with a heavy heart, “You will drink from me for now on.” No vampire had ever bitten him. Demestriu had debated it, arguing with his elders over the decision. For some reason, in the end he’d decided against it, preferring to torture Lachlain instead.

“Can’t drink from you,” she murmured. “Not straight from a source.”

“What? I thought your kind took pleasure from that.”

“Never done it.”

Impossible. “You’ve no’ drunk another? Never killed?”

She cast him an anguished expression. His question had hurt her?

“Of course not.”

She wasn’t a predator? There were rumors of a small faction of rebel vampires who didn’t kill—of course, he’d dismissed the tales immediately. What had they been called? Forbearers? Could she be one? But then he frowned. “So where would you get blood?”

“Blood bank,” she murmured.

Was that a joke? “What the hell is that? Is there one nearby?”

She shook her head.

“Then you’ve got to take from me. Because I just signed on to be your breakfast.”

She looked too weak to take his neck, so he sliced his finger with a claw. She turned her face away. “Put it in a glass. Please.”

“Do you fear I’ll turn you into a Lykae?” He would never attempt that grueling ritual on her. “Or do you think you’ll turn me?” Surely she didn’t believe that. The only way to become a vampire was to die while one’s blood was in your body. Only humans believed one could be turned from a vampire’s bite, while those in the Lore knew one had a better chance of turning by biting the vampire.

“It’s not that. A glass…”

He didn’t understand what the difference was. Then his eyes narrowed. Did she find the thought of drinking from him objectionable? Galling. She had no idea what he was sacrificing for her. He snapped, “Take it, now,” then dripped the blood across her lips.

She resisted for longer than he would’ve if he’d been starved. Finally she dabbed the tip of her tongue at her lip, then licked there. Her eyes turned silver. To his shock, he went instantly hard.

Her small fangs shot longer. She had sunk them into his arm before he could blink.

With the first draw, her eyelids fluttered closed and she moaned; he went dizzy with sexual pleasure, feeling on the verge of coming. Stunned, groaning, he reached out and yanked her gown down, exposing her breasts, covering one with his palm. He squeezed harder than he’d meant to, but when he stopped she raised her chest into his hand, her hips undulating, never hesitating her sucking.