Angel of Darkness (The Fallen #1)(16)

“You can’t hunt. Those humans might have tracked us and if you go out to hunt, they’ll find you.” He paused, then said, “And if you don’t drink, you’ll just slow me down.”

“Uh, I don’t have to slow anything with you, we’re not—”

“Drink.”

Right, like she was going to refuse a buffet. She yanked his wrist toward her mouth. Her teeth scraped over his flesh. Her tongue tasted him and then she bit.

“Nicole.”

Her gaze flew to his face. His blue eyes glittered at her and, as she watched, a dark flush covered his cheeks.

So good. No taste had ever hit her like this, and with every delicious drop of his blood, strength seemed to pour back into her.

“Is it ... supposed to feel like this?” His voice was gravel-rough.

Was she hurting him? Her fingers were curled tight around his wrist, but she’d tried to be careful when she bit.

His teeth ground together. “Your mouth ...” His breath hissed out.

Her head lifted at once. “Pain? I’m sorry, I—”

Keenan gave a hard negative shake of his head. “Pleasure.”

Oh. She hadn’t felt pleasure when she’d been bitten. Only terror and agony. But the men she’d tasted over the last few months had seemed to enjoy the bite, and— He pushed his wrist toward her mouth. “More.”

She wanted more, but ... There was always a price. “Do you know what happens when I drink?”

His eyes narrowed.

The sheet had started to rise at his waist. Aroused. Oh, damn, she’d meant to keep her eyes up. She yanked her stare to his face. “When they drink, vampires link with their victims.” Another lesson she’d learned. “The more I drink, the more control I’ll have over you.” Maybe she should have just shut her mouth. Having control over a hunter could only be a good thing.

But ... she remembered what it was like when someone else had the control. When someone else had been in her mind, forcing her actions, and yanking her around like a puppet on a string. I won’t do that to him. She dropped Keenan’s hand.

There were two kinds of vampires in the world. Those that had been born to the blood, and those that had been taken, like her. The Taken had been transformed, but if you traced the bloodline—the literal, actual line of blood that had been spilled and drunk—a Taken would always track back to a Born.

And the Borns ... they were the ones with the absolute control. They could link with every person in their sick blood family tree. Link and control.

The Born’s thoughts would whisper through his family’s minds, slipping inside, weakening, compelling, controlling. . .

No, no, I don’t want to kill!

But she’d been made to kill.

No control.

She wouldn’t do the same to Keenan. No matter what else he was, he’d saved her the night before.

“You won’t have control over me.”

He sounded so certain that she almost laughed. But when she glanced at his eyes, she found his gaze burning on her.

“It doesn’t work that way for my kind,” he said. “Only one thing can control us and that one thing isn’t a vampire. Vamps have no power over me.” He stared down at his wrist a moment, at the faint marks on his skin, then he glanced back at her. “So drink up because you can’t hurt me, you can’t kill me, and you can’t control me.”

Her fingers reached for him and curled around his strong wrist. “Sounds like you’re my perfect food supply.” The words were meant to be mocking.

She lifted his wrist to her mouth and sucked the skin. Her eyes were still on him, and she saw the flare of his pupils. Her teeth rasped over the flesh. “Too bad you’re a bounty hunter and all you want is to turn me over to your boss for a quick payment.” Because she was a wanted woman.

Some blood could never be washed away.

Nicole bit him. His breathing deepened and his drumming heartbeat filled her ears as she drank.

Strength filled her. Strength and ... need.

Lust.

She’d never physically wanted her other prey. She’d just taken a few sips from them and hadn’t indulged long enough to truly enjoy the taste of their blood.

Keenan was ... different.

She licked his flesh and stole away the last few drops of blood. Their eyes held. There was no mistaking the raw desire on his face or in his eyes.

“I’m not a bounty hunter.”

She lowered his hand. “You ... you’re with Night Watch.” Night Watch was the bounty-hunting agency when it came to paranormals. The Night Watch agents were often Other, too. Who better to catch the supernaturals than the shifters with their enhanced senses? The witches with their magic?

And she’d already been warned once by a Night Watch agent. Dee Daniels had sent all the vamps a warning when she slayed Grim, the Born Master who’d been controlling them.

Cross the line and die.

“I know about Night Watch, but I don’t work for them.” His head cocked. “I don’t work for anyone.”

Now her heart raced too fast. “But you said ...”

“No, you said. And I was hunting at the time, so I guess that did make me a hunter.” His lips twisted. “Of sorts.”

“What were you hunting?” Her fast heartbeat seemed to shake her chest.