Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to watch me,” Saint grumbles as he jerks his head away from the volunteer—a man in his late forties who consented to a bit of mental numbing before the exchange.
“The day I don’t have to watch you feed is the day you’re mated,” I counter with an apologetic look.
I don’t like watching him feed. I don’t mind it, but I know it annoys the fuck out of him. But, with what happened before we went into statis, and after everything that happened to him when Samuel held him captive…it’s a safety precaution. The only way to ensure he’d never slip into bloodmadness again is for him to find his mate and be sustained from her alone.
Saint narrows his gaze, heading toward the door. “That’ll never happen.”
I fall into step with him, following him into the long, heavily decorated corridor. The smell of freshly picked flowers and sea flow through the hallway, most of the doors firmly closed. I can’t help but wonder where Annika is and who she’s feeding from.
My vision bolts to thermal for an instant, causing me to halt my steps.
What the fuck?
I clear my throat, clenching my eyes shut for a moment as I pull my shit together. Just because I’m fucking the luscious vampire doesn’t mean I need to get territorial over who she feeds from. It’s not like I’ve offered her my blood.
Her fangs sinking into my flesh, my blood spilling hot and thick into her mouth—
Fuck me. I’m hard as granite thinking about it.
“You good?” Saint asks.
I snap my eyes open, thankful to see him clearly where he waits for me at the end of the hall.
“Fine,” I grumble, hurrying after him.
He cocks a brow at me, the thin ring of red circling his dark eyes more vibrant now that he’s fed. “Looks like you might be the one who needs supervision while feeding.” His eyes drop to my mouth.
Damn. My fangs are out. When did that happen?
I’m a fucking mess.
I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”
Saint tips his chin. “You didn’t feed the last time we were here either.”
I shrug. “I’ve had some canned.”
He looks like he’s about to press the issue, and I send him a silent look so he doesn’t.
I don’t have answers regarding my appetite. It’s probably nothing more than the canned shit filling me up more than necessary, making even these willing necks unappealing.
Annika’s face fills my vision, the way she arches off the bed when I touch her, her neck exposed, the veins thrumming beneath her delicate skin.
Fuck. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting her blood.
“Where’s your student?” Saint asks, jerking me out of the fantasy.
“I’m not her keeper,” I snap.
The barest of grins shapes his lips. It’s a terrifying thing. I’ve seen him smile like that right before he cuts into someone. Few people can talk to Saint like I just did and live to tell about it.
I clear my throat. “I don’t know where she is,” I say, a little more composed as we continue our trek toward the main lobby of the building to wait for Talon, Cassandra, and Annika.
Saint settles against a smooth stone wall near the doors, studying me. “Don’t you, though?”
I furrow my brow. “She doesn’t tell me every detail about her tastes,” I explain. “I have no idea what kind of volunteer she’d go for.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He eyes me, and I hate that my instincts prickle at his silent urging.
I take a deep breath and focus. I could be imagining it, but lately, I feel Annika before I see her. Maybe it’s nothing more than me catching her scent or our powers calling to each other because they’re so similar, but if I think on it long enough…
She’s on the main floor, down the left hallway, third door on the right.
My eyes widen at the certainty I feel in this assessment.
Saint pushes off the wall, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not breathing.”
A rush of air shoves from my lungs at his mentioning it.
“Tired,” I lie. “That’s all.”
Saint scans my face, waiting. He’s not the most conversative, but he’s an exceptional listener. If I wanted, if I needed, I could spill all my inner battle shit right here and he’d hear me out. Hear me go off about Annika, how infuriating she is, how delectable, how addictive, how I can’t stop thinking about her even when I’m asleep. He’d listen to me write it off as nothing more than good, old-fashioned chemistry.
I clamp my lips shut. The last thing I want to do is unpack this. I don’t even understand it myself.
Saint releases my shoulder, dipping his head in a nod to someone behind me.
It’s Talon, not Annika.
She’s not finished yet.
I don’t know how I know that or why the idea of some other male feeding her has my powers on alert and ready to crush someone.