To Save a Vampire - A.K. Koonce Page 0,34

ground in thought.

“There’s an antidote?” I ask loudly, hope fluttering into my panicked heart. Is my heart rate accelerated from the berries?

He gives a small, masked smile. “My DNA is a cure all. Do they not teach you anything at that camp?”

His DNA. I instantly wonder what else Shaw used him for. Was there more to the compound than work and the secret testing?.

“Your DNA. Like your blood?” I ask, trying not to curl my lip in disgust. The thought of seeing his blood again, let alone wiping it on myself makes me want to run far, far away, poisoned or not.

“Our blood is an instantaneous solution, but there are other ways to transfer DNA,” he says in a low voice with an animalistic smile.

Confusion crosses my face as I think through his words. I’m almost about to ask him to explain when he licks his lips. My eyes follow the movement with slow understanding washing through me. My uneven breaths halt altogether. I suddenly notice how close he is to me. I give an awkward half smile and struggle to find a sentence to clear the air.

“Relax, I’m not going to bite you,” he says with a soft laugh that hums through my own body.

“It’s not that.” I pause trying to dissolve my awkwardness. “So, you’ll just lick me and—and I’ll absorb your magical healing powers?” I try to force the sarcasm from my voice because that’s all I have. It’s either sarcasm or shuddering nonsense.

He gives another drool-worthy half smile at my attempt to think through all this. “It’s not magic, but, yeah, sure, let’s call me magical.”

I can’t look him in the eye, and our silence lingers long enough for him to speak again. “Listen, maybe it’s a harmless berry bush. Maybe we will eat them all tonight. Maybe they’ll be delicious. But maybe,” he tilts his head in speculation, “maybe they’re not. There are an infinite number of things in nature that are deadly. Beautiful but deadly.” He pauses looking around at the threatening environment he just described. “Ky and Charlotte are at least a mile up river. With every step you take, you could be pumping the poison farther into your blood stream. You could be dead before you even utter the word berry to them.” His brows are raised and he’s holding back a laugh at the mortal panic that’s settling into me and making a home in my incapable lungs.

“Okay. Just do whatever mystical thing it is that your DNA does already,” I say darting my eyes away from him.

I turn my neck toward him and keep focused on the leaves at our feet. The design of them, the rough, dry edges, the thin lines that splay through them. I also try to keep my breaths coming in and out. In and out. My breathing is a simple process that I now have to put so much focus on.

I hear him take a step closer to me, his body brushing mine, his boots crushing the little leaves I had mapped out earlier. His fingers brush against my neck, holding my head in his hand. His palm is cool against my warm skin. A tingle breaks out along my collar at his touch and the feel of his breath on my neck.

He moves skillfully, like a praying mantis preparing to devour its mate. And I’m just about to tell him to wait and I’ll take my chances when his lips touch my neck. The small traces of air I was harboring leave my lungs. I expect to feel burning or stinging from the wound, but it’s very much the opposite.

He kisses my neck lightly at first, and I try to keep my eyes focused on each individual leaf in my sight again, studying every fallen shape of nature into my memory, trying to remain calm. He’s trying to help me, to cure me, but my mind starts drifting in another direction.

He opens his mouth and I feel his tongue against my neck, warm and hesitant. I take a sharp breath as a heat spreads through my core. His tongue traces against my skin between kisses, and I fist his shirt in my hands to steady myself. I close my eyes and clamp my mouth shut to try and keep any composure I might have left.

His mouth trails against my neck, nipping occasionally, and I feel his other hand grip my waist tightly, pulling me even closer. My body molds happily and lithely against his.

“Asher,”