"You did good tonight. Fought like a second," he said with appreciation in his voice.
"Thanks, Yonnie," she said, finding it hard to speak. His body was still damp beneath his shirt, making the lightweight fabric cling to his broad chest and every well-defined ripple in his abdomen. His black leather pants clung to his narrow h*ps and long, lean legs. She looked away. "I was afraid, though," she admitted. "If we had only gotten there sooner."
"We did what we could," Yonnie said, his tone comforting. "I wish we could have gotten there sooner, too. But we did what we could."
He studied her solemn expression under the Halloween moon. She was absolutely gorgeous. She looked like she'd been made from the fabric of the universe to roam free and wild as a huntress of the night. Her hair shone like Stardust was in it, her motions were liquid and effortless, as though she were a stream. Even dead, the color of her skin looked like the sun had kissed it. Her voice a mere murmur, like the whispering night breeze. But her eyes definitely rivaled the moon. Everything about her seemed more natural than supernatural; then again, the fact that she was one of his kind suited him just fine.
He'd chosen to wear the wolfen form for her, knowing how much her people held the creature in esteem. He was glad that his choice had pleased her, because her courage in battle had more than pleased him. He allowed his gaze to scan her again. He loved the way her fawn-colored pants and skin-toned tank gave the illusion that she was nude. She should have been na**d right now, her dark eyes smoldering, her thick velvety hair flowing over his pillow. "You smoked that second like a pro," he finally said, wanting her to know how much respect he had for her.
"It was sloppy," she countered, not taking her eyes off him.
"No," he murmured, coming closer and caressing her jaw with the pad of his thumb. "We got there late. The old woman was already dead. Your maneuver saved at least one of Carlos's marks. I sent the ambulance with his mother's body in it to the hospital, convinced the medics she died from smoke inhalation. I couldn't do much about the grandmother. But at least she died instantly and didn't suffer. It was better that way. They could have tortured them for information instead."
She stared up at him, her eyes searching his, and he could feel himself teetering on the edge of control. He shouldn't have touched her.
She was practically trembling where she stood. She'd never taken down another vampire in her life. A second? It had been exhilarating and she'd done it with a master at her side, worked in tandem with him, following his lead in an invisible dance. She'd been in hiding, spent most of her immortal life avoiding all confrontation. Her only encounter with another vampire had been when she'd been turned. But Yonnie had shown her another side of her life.
She drew away. "I must feed," she said.
"I know," he murmured, and unbuttoned another onyx stud on his shirt. "After the hunt... the things one's body needs after a battle-"
"Please," she whispered, and tried to back away, but couldn't seem to force herself to do it. "I've never-"
"Felt like this," he whispered. He trapped her gaze with his. "Take off the silver collar."
She shook her head no.
"Take off the collar." He made a small cut in his neck with the edge of his thumbnail, and watched her stare at the thin line of blood that trickled down his throat and pooled in his collarbone. When her fangs lowered, he closed his eyes.
"I'm not going to make love with you tonight, no matter what," she told him.
He nodded, keeping his eyes closed. He heard her unfasten the collar. How odd that she called what he wanted to do making love. He had always thought of it as f**king. "You don't trust me?"
She hesitated so long that he opened his eyes and looked at her. "I don't trust myself."
"I won't make you do anything you don't want to," he said. "But after a battle, you need to feed." He stepped closer. "Please, let me feed you, Tara."
She took the paper that Juanita had given her from her pocket and held it out to Yonnie. "We should get in touch with Carlos."
Yonnie nodded, but his gaze was locked on her throat. "Yeah, we should," he murmured. "As soon as you feed so you'll be strong enough to do it." He hesitated. "We need our combined energy to reach him undetected, since he's obviously out of our zone. You send. I'll mask your call. But you have to feed first."
Against her better judgment, Tara stepped closer to him. She half expected him to snatch her to him, but he didn't. Instead he folded her in and she crumpled the piece of paper in her fist. She held her other fist away from him so that the heavy silver collar wouldn't touch him. Then she leaned in tentatively and gently licked the trickle of blood, crossing his collarbone with her tongue, following the delicious trail up his throat, until she was standing on her tiptoes to reach the open wound.
He drew a sharp hiss of air through his teeth as she lapped at his flesh, and she felt the erotic connection to him quake her torso the moment the sound carried on the wind. She'd never been with a master, never dreamed that one would offer her, a fourth-gen, his throat. And this one was not just handsome and kind, but also had a deep sense of honor. He'd gone on a risky mission to save three humans. He had put aside his own personal safety, to protect Carlos's people-just because it was right. There had been a debt of friendship acknowledged that went deeper than his first lieutenant rank.
Tara stared up into a pair of warm brown eyes, her gaze accepting his rugged cinnamon beauty. Her hands ached to touch his thick, springy twists of hair and she wondered what the kinky texture would feel like, wondered what the fullness of his mouth would feel like against hers. His earthy male scent filled her nostrils. It clung to his glistening, dark skin and wrapped itself around her.
"Take it," he said quietly, no force in his tone. "What I've got will make you stronger."
She nestled in against him. He shuddered when her pelvis slid against the hard length of him. She studied his vein with care, needing just a sip to satisfy her. He leaned down to give her full access to his throat.
Before she could change her mind, his hands slid around her back and yanked her to his body in a tight seal. She was lost. She seized upon his throat, breaking the vein in one swift strike.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He moaned and it made her pull harder. Her skin was on fire, her body throbbing to the rhythm of each hard suckle, forcing her h*ps to match until they both shivered.
He cupped the back of her head, holding her against his throat, luxuriating in the feel of her thick tresses. No female had ever scored him, taken his jugular like this. His hands spread over her delicate back, holding her closer, wanting to pull her inside him. The paper she held torched in cold, blue flames. She dropped the amulet to the ground as their minds touched.