Dark Curse Page 0,55

weapon should he attack her again. The smooth handle felt reassuring.

"You cannot have it both ways, Lara. Either you want me to control his mind and keep him from being frightened, or you want me to just feed, uncaring of how the donor feels."

"Why not use a blood bank?"

He sank down onto the edge of the boulder beside the mineral pool. "You already know the answer to that. The blood does not work for us. We can survive, but not thrive. I fight vampires. I need to be at full strength at all times. What would you have me do?"

Lara pushed both hands through her hair in agitation. "I don't know. Something else. Something more respectful. People shouldn't be used for food like that. They have feelings. We aren't just mindless puppets."

"You are not human."

Her chin rose. "I may have a hodgepodge of blood running in my veins, like most humans do, by the way, but without a doubt, I think like a human. I know what it's like to be kept prisoner and dragged out so someone could tear my flesh open and drink my blood. They didn't care if I was scared, or repulsed. They didn't care what I thought or felt,I didn't matter to them anymore than that farmer mattered to you."

His dark eyes drifted over her face, taking in every detail. "Should our species give up our lives because we should not take the blood of others without consent? We are careful and respectful."

"It didn't feel very respectful to me." Mentally she kicked herself. She was supposed to be stringing him along. She needed to use her trick of distracting, banal conversation, a sugary voice, even inject humor, all tools she had found invaluable when she was growing up. Conversation sidetracked people.

Confrontation put them on edge and warned them they were dealing with someone of power. Her body reacted to her moods. The families she lived with eventually became uncomfortable with a child whose hair and eyes changed color when she was upset. She didn't blame them for thinking she was a child of the devil; many of them were superstitious and, quite frankly-well-she was a child of the devil or the closest thing to it-at least the great-great granddaughter of the devil.

Nicolas reached for her hand. His palm slid along hers-skin to skin. Her stomach flipped. His fingers tangled around her fingers and her heart began to pound out of control. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. Instantly she felt trapped-captivated-by the intensity of his gaze. He turned her hand over and brought it to his chest.

"I have lived centuries, Lara. I was born with darkness already crouching inside of me and I fought it back every moment of my existence with nothing but honor. I am not making an excuse, I just want you to understand. This night I was too close, and you saved me. We're bound together, but the ritual is not complete. I may have been rougher than I intended with the farmer, but if I didn't calm him before he was aware, it was not intentional."

She moistened her dry lips. Deep inside where self preservation lived, she heard herself screaming, "No, no, be quiet, don't engage," but it was too late, the words were already tumbling out of her. "There was a rush, when you seized him, I felt the rush pour into you. You're addicted to it. It's amazing to be all-powerful over someone else, for that one moment to hold life in your hand and choose for them." She tilted her chin at him, tugging away her hand. "Maybe that's what kept you going on these years, not honor."

Nicolas stepped back, fury sweeping through him. His mind touched hers and he drew away, horror sweeping through him as he stepped back a few paces, just out of arm's length when he wanted to grab her and shake her. How dare she dismiss so easily his centuries of service, his fight against the darkness rising like a monster every day of his life. Worse, what kind of a lifemate would deliberately leave her mate vulnerable, completely helpless out of selfish convictions that weren't even logical or reasonable? He could see her plan as plain as day-she was waiting for the sleep of his people to overtake him and she would leave him alone and without safeguards.

He hadn't felt anger in centuries, now it welled up, a black wall of rage. No one questioned his authority,