A Midsummer Night's Demon - By Brenda Sparks Page 0,3

throat, pinning the vampire against the wall. The agent pushed him up the rough wall, hoping the concrete would bite into the rogue’s back.

The vampire clawed at Ky’s arm to break the suffocating grip. His feet kicked against the wall, desperate to find a foothold so he could take the pressure from his throat. Ky’s iron grasp stopped his air, making his body jerk with the need for oxygen. The whites of his eyes turned red from bursting capillaries before his lids fluttered shut.

The rogue’s heart stuttered, his body fell limp, then before Ky’s eyes the listless form he held coalesced into itself, until only a wisp of black smoke remained. As it wafted through his empty fingers, he threw back his head, letting a roar of frustration escape from deep within his chest cavity. The sonorous sound reverberated off the concrete walls. The bastard had dematerialized! His fist punched into the concrete sending more ashen debris to the floor.

The sound of a soft moan behind him garnered his attention. Ky’s determined strides took him quickly to the injured woman. With gentle hands, he lowered her slumped body to the floor, turning her face so he could examine the wound.

He touched the skin around the gash on her neck and her eyes fluttered opened, wide with fright. Her drugged hand lazily smacked at his, as if trying to ward off an attack. He could smell her fear, knew only adrenaline kept her conscious.

He grasped her hand tenderly in his much larger one, stilling her trembling fingers as he leaned over her. “Shhh. He’s gone. I’m here to help you.”

She struggled to extract her hand. If she’d been at her full strength, she would not have been able to pull her hand from his unless he allowed it.

And he was surprised to discover he wasn’t about to let go. He wanted the connection. The moment he touched her something stirred within his heart, something drew him to her.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. You can trust me.” He put a subtle compulsion behind his voice, letting it flow over her mind to ease her worry, leaving no doubt that he intended to assist her.

The ragged wound gaped open and her blood flowed in a steady stream down her chest. If he did not staunch the bleeding soon she could die from exsanguination. He couldn’t risk taking her to a hospital—the doctors would ask too many questions. A wound like that couldn’t be from anything other than a bite, and it wasn’t as if a lot of wild animals roamed the city. He realized it would be up to him to take care of her.

Ky gathered her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her shock-chilled body. His saliva contained coagulation properties which would aid to stop the bleeding, though would not heal so savage a wound.

He leaned down to lick her ruined neck. His tongue flicked over the wound, careful not to do anymore damage. The first lick spun his world. Her blood, unlike any other, tasted like sunshine. It warmed him to the core, made his body come alive in a way no blood had done before. His vision swam, tilting the parking garage. His body reacted, every cell screaming…

MINE!

His body responded to hers like a schoolboy holding his first crush. His muscles tightened, his hold became possessive as he lapped at the wound.

Most among his kind believed that each of them had one true mate—a heartmate. A person who completed them, the other half of their heart and soul. They recognized that person by the taste of their blood.

Ky now believed in heartmates. He would never get enough of her addictive flavor to sate his hunger.

Blood now gone, his tongue continued over the flesh of her neck to find the delicate spot where her shoulder met her neck on the opposite side of the wound. His tongue flicked across the vein. It beat in time with her heart, enticing him to sample just a bit more.

Desire flowed through his body at the thought. His inner beast rose to the surface, demanded another taste of its mate. Carnal need flowed through his veins unabated, sending a surge of wanton lust to heat his body. Saliva filled his mouth at the thought of more.

She was his. His to savor and to have. His to protect.

Like a slap to the face, the need to protect his heartmate sobered him from his baser needs, giving him the strength to rein in his inner beast, take