Maybe.
“I want my taste, too.”
She had no idea what he was talking about.
His green eyes seemed to burn into hers. “I bled for you, and now it’s your turn.”
The claws at her neck slid across her skin. The pain was brief, a prick that she almost didn’t even feel, but then he was pulling her closer. Wrapping his arms around her, and because the man was huge—towering far over six feet—he lifted her up against him so that her toes barely touched the ground.
Then he put his mouth on her throat and he…he licked her skin. Her breath shuddered out of her. Iona knew she should fight, but her legs were still weak. She ached. She…
Liked the feel of his mouth on her.
“Mmmm…didn’t expect that,” the man murmured against her skin.
Her eyes were wide open, staring behind him at the bed that had been her jail cell.
How long had she been there? So long that she’d gone crazy enough to let a wolf put his paws on her.
“Re…lease me…” Her voice was hushed, so raspy. Her throat ached when she spoke, but the blood would heal her. Soon enough. “Or…die.”
His tongue slid over her skin. Did he—did he press a kiss to her throat before his head lifted? It felt as if he had. “Easy. I barely took a sip from you.” One dark brow rose as he offered her a half-smile that flashed a dimple in his cheek. “While you guzzled me like a frat boy with a new keg.”
A frat…? Her eyes slit and she forced herself to speak again, “Re…lease…”
“Right, right…” He dropped his hands and moved back a step. “Happy now?”
Her teeth snapped together. Happy wasn’t exactly a part of her vocabulary.
The man raised his hands. “I’m guessing that’s a no?”
“Who are…you?” Her voice was a bit stronger now. Good.
“I’m the man who saved your sweet ass.” Definitely sounded like arse that time.
Her gaze swept over him. “Not…man.” Men didn’t have claws. Men didn’t drink blood.
He shrugged. “True enough. I’m more than just a man.” A brief pause. “I’m a werewolf.”
“So…you’re dead…” A threat because…he would be. Vampires and werewolves didn’t mix. She’d tried that path once upon a bloody time. Hell had been her reward.
“Not quite.” That grin came again. His dimple winked. “I’m the hero who just rescued you.”
Werewolves weren’t heroes. They were the monsters in all the stories. All of her stories, anyway.
“And I’m the guy who can give you exactly what you want.”
He didn’t know her. How could he possibly know what she wanted? Her lips parted and she sucked in a deep breath. Then she realized what she was doing. Air. Wonderful, precious air. Her lungs had been starved, for so long. She actually felt a bit dizzy as she pulled in more of that delicious air.
His eyes were on her, watching her far too closely, and then the guy said, “I can give you Latham, and I’ll even help you to cut the bastard’s head off.”
Okay. Perhaps…maybe…this stranger did know what she wanted, after all.
She’d let him keep living a bit longer.
Latham. The name had burned itself in her memory. Latham Gentry was the wolf responsible for sending her to hell. “Who are you?” Iona asked again. Her speech was improving by the second. Good thing she’d always been a fast healer.
“My name’s Jamie O’Connell.”
The name meant nothing to her. It was Irish. So was he. In all her very long life, she’d never met Jamie O’Connell before.
Not until she’d opened her eyes and tasted his blood.
Now that she knew him, Iona realized she’d never forget the werewolf. His memory would stay with her long after he was dead.
“Just give me a little time,” Jamie said as he nodded his dark head, “and I’ll lead you right to Latham.”
She stared at him. The werewolf was trying to offer her some sort of deal. She didn’t do deals. “You brought me back.” He’d given her the blood she needed to break whatever wretched curse Latham had used on her.
Jamie inclined his head toward her. She figured that was an agreement.
She’d once vowed to destroy the werewolves, to take them out…one by one.
But this man, this werewolf, he’d given her life. Killing him then, well, it didn’t exactly seem right. “Count yourself lucky, wolf.” She brushed by him and headed for the window. The only window in that narrow room. As she walked into the ray of light that spilled through the glass, the sunlight felt wonderfully warm on her chilled skin.
Most vampires hated the light.
Not Iona.
She’d been in the darkness for so long that she was desperate for that light. She pressed her palm to the windowpane. Beyond that glass, she saw the rough edges of the cliffs that waited outside. Heard the crash of waves. Water seemed to surround her.
Figured, water would be needed for a holding spell.
The werewolf and his damn witch. She’d find them both. Make them bleed and beg.
But first, she had to deal with this werewolf. “Good-bye, Jamie O’Connell,” Iona said, without bothering to look back at him. Then she slammed her hand through the glass. The window shattered and broken glass rained down on the floor—and fell outside of the window.
Jamie called out her name, but she didn’t stop. In an instant, she’d leapt through that window, and she was rushing for her freedom. She was an old vampire, one gifted with powers that few others could ever hope to possess.
She’d been born as a vampire. Born to a father who wanted the power of the gods.
He’d gotten her instead.
She leapt over the rocky terrain. Stared at the water that seemed to howl and snarl below her.
“Stop!”
The dark werewolf, giving chase. She paused at the edge of the cliff.
“What are you doing?” He demanded as he rushed after her. “Do you want to die?”
She laughed then, and the sound was as brittle as her voice. Iona glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’ve been dead for too long.” And she wanted to wash away the rot and stench of the hell that had trapped her. “It’s time for me to live again.”
And when the Blood Queen lived, everyone else should fear.
Lifting her hands high above her, Iona turned back to the crashing waves. Then she stepped off the edge of the cliff and plummeted into the dark water below her.
***
Footsteps pounded behind Jamie as he peered over the edge of the cliff. Hell, that was at least a thirty foot drop. Forty?
The water roared below him.
“Are you going after her?” Sean asked as the younger wolf huffed to a stop beside him.
Her head had just broken through the foaming waves. While Jamie watched, the vampire called Iona began to swim through the churning tide, taking her sweet time as she moved easily through the water.
Amazing.
In-freaking-sane.
Jaw clenching, he gritted, “No.” Because, unlike the vamp, he wasn’t ready to risk having his body savaged by the rocks and the waves and whatever the hell else waited below.
“She’s getting away,” Sean said, pointing out the obvious. He had an annoying tendency to do that.
Jamie slanted the guy a hard glance. Sean should be glad the lady was swimming away. Especially considering that the vampire in question had been close to ending Sean’s life just minutes before.
Then Sean gave a slow shake of his head and met Jamie’s gaze. “That didn’t go quite as we planned, did it?”
He re-assessed his grand plan. Iona was a strong swimmer. Correction, she was just plain strong. Ten minutes after waking, and the woman was cutting through the water like an Olympic swimmer. Very interesting. Very promising. Jamie smiled and let his anger wash away. “It went even better than I’d planned.” The Blood Queen…Iona…she’d definitely lived up to the stories that he’d heard.
&nb
sp; Iona. Her name whispered through his mind. Beautiful. Seductive. A perfect name for his vampire. Before, he hadn’t been able to match that name with a face. Now he knew just what she looked like. It would be impossible to ever forget a woman like her.
He glanced down at the water once more. Then, because he knew where the vampire would go, Jamie turned away from the cliff. Iona thought she was safe. That she was still the paranormal bad-ass that others had to fear.
Once she got to town, she’d see that the rules of the game had changed. She wouldn’t be getting away from him.
Not now.
Not ever.
The bond he’d forged with her could never be broken. At least, not if the vampire wanted to keep living.
Chapter Two
As far as hunting prospects were concerned, the small coastal town of Shade, Oregon, wasn’t exactly ripe with possibilities. Two bars—both rundown as all hell and faded from time—blasted music into the night.
Just two.
When Iona turned up, Jamie knew she’d head to one of those bars. He just had to make sure he chose the right hunting spot in order to catch her.
The music kept playing. Some young band danced across the stage while girls in low-cut tops swayed in their seats. The alcohol was pouring, laughter floated in the air, and as the darkness deepened outside, not one of the humans there seemed to realize the danger that stalked them.
Humans. They could be so oblivious. Maybe that was why they still thought vampires and werewolves existed only in movies and nightmares.
Jamie tapped the counter and the bartender slid him another beer.
Not just in movies, kids. We’re right in front of you. He drained the beer in two gulps.
Now, to just find Iona…
Jamie put his back to the bar and propped his elbows on the countertop behind him. His gaze swept the crowd once more and…
She walked in.
Not still clad in her blood-stained gown, but wearing jeans that curled around her legs, high heels that clicked across the floor, and a tight, black t-shirt that pushed her breasts forward and had three men scrambling eagerly toward her.
Hell.
Iona smiled, and Jamie saw that she was careful not to flash any fang. For the moment.
But then she took the hand of one of the fools who had rushed toward her, and she began to lead the guy back outside. Talk about your easy prey. Jamie was almost tempted to let the dumb kid die.
Almost. Stupidity shouldn’t be a crime punishable by death.
He tossed some cash down on the bar and stalked after his Blood Queen.
Bodies jostled into him as he made his way through the bar, but he just shoved those bodies the hell out of his way. In moments, he was outside and the bar’s main door slammed closed behind him. The scent of the ocean teased his nose as the wind blew lightly against him. Wind that carried not just the salt of the ocean, but the coppery odor of blood.
His claws wanted to break free. The beast inside roared, but Jamie yanked back on his wolf’s chain. Holding tight to his control, Jamie followed the scent of blood, rounded the building and saw—
The kid—some college-aged guy with sun-streaked blond hair—was pressed up against the side of the building. Iona had her hands on his chest. The jerk was moaning and her fangs were in his throat. Jamie’s teeth ground together as he rushed toward them.
But before he could grab Iona, she fell away from the guy and hit the ground, hard. Her body began to shake as she wiped her hand over her mouth. “Poi…son…”
The blond wasn’t moving. He lifted a hand to his throat and touched the faint wound on his neck. “Wh—”
Jamie lunged forward and grabbed the blond by the shoulder. “Get the hell out of here.”
The guy’s eyes widened, but, despite the fear Jamie could smell, the fellow shook his head and glanced over at Iona. “She’s hurt. I-I should help…”
The dumbass didn’t seem to get that Iona had just tried to eat him. And now he wanted to play Galahad. Figured. Hero complexes. Jamie sure didn’t suffer from them. “Get out of here, or I’ll just knock your ass out.” Jamie lifted his fist. One punch, and Galahad wouldn’t be waking up for hours.
Galahad swallowed. “I-I—”
Iona was back on her feet. “You burned me!” She yelled, then she leapt at her would-be-snack.
Jamie caught her before she could do any permanent damage to Galahad. “Go,” he bit off to the fool. “Now.”
Finally, Galahad left. Iona twisted and bucked in Jamie’s arms, and he was sure that she didn’t mean to turn him on. The woman seemed far too furious, but, damn, her curves were fine and when she kept rubbing that ass right over his groin…
His eyes squeezed closed. Fucking her hadn’t been part of his plan. This hard lust? No, not the plan. He wasn’t supposed to want her so badly. Use her to hunt his enemy? Yes, that was definitely on his agenda. Wanting to strip her and explore that silken body for hours? No, not the plan.
His plans just kept changing.
But then she stopped struggling. Iona just seemed to go limp in his arms. Her head sagged forward.
Uh, oh. He wasn’t sure just what kind of damage the guy’s blood might have done to her. Jamie knew that he probably should have warned her about that little, ah, issue, but she’d run before he could break the news to her.
“Iona?” He turned her in his arms, moving her so that Iona’s chest pressed against his. Her eyes were closed. He bent over her, wondering what to do next.
Her eyes flew open. Too aware. Too…hungry. And rather pissed. In a flash, she’d bolted up and her teeth were on his throat. No, in his throat.
His breath hissed out, but it wasn’t pain that he felt. Her fangs sliced through the skin in an instant, and the only sensation he felt was a burst of pleasure so intense that his whole body shuddered. More of that. Oh, yeah. More.
She was drinking from him, and every soft move of her lips had his body tensing even more. Growing harder. His cock was swollen, fully aroused, and hot pulses of pleasure lit his blood as her mouth worked on his neck.
Keeping his hands on her hips, he maneuvered her back, then she was the one pinned against the side of the building. He tilted his head, trying to give her better access because, hell, yes, he was loving this rough ride of pleasure. And the blood that she took…
It links us more.
His fingers slid around to the front of her jeans. Found the snap and jerked it free. Her zipper hissed down.
Her tongue licked over him.
He wanted to touch her skin. Wanted to touch her everywhere so he could discover just how soft she’d be.
Her body trembled against him. “You…you taste so good.” Her soft words were whispered against his neck.
He was betting that she’d taste like paradise.
“He tasted like acid, but you…” Now her voice wasn’t so whispered. It was snapping. Angry as awareness grew within her. Her fingers curled over his shoulders, and she pushed him back, just far enough that she could see up into his eyes. “You taste like dessert.”
Her little pink tongue slid over her bottom lip. As if she were savoring his taste.
Dangerous. The woman was lethal in more ways than he’d realized.
Her eyes—he could see them perfectly in the dark, a werewolf perk—narrowed on him. “Why do you taste like dessert?” Iona wanted to know.
He deliberately let his eyes widen. “Because I’m awesome?”
Her eyes had become golden slits. “What have you done?”
Aw, their hot moment was about to be over. Pity. His hand was still just inside of her jeans. So close to the flesh he wanted to touch.
She seemed to realize exactly how close his fingers were to her sex because she gave a little growl and pushed him back a good five feet.
Not inside her jeans anymore.
Iona yanked up the zipper and fixed the snap in an instant. “You thought to fuck me?”
Hoped, not thought, but he lifted
his hands and shrugged. “You thought to drain me?” Jamie tossed back.
She growled again. Sexy. “Wolf,” she snarled, “I gave you a chance to live. You should have just stayed away from me.”
“Can’t do that.” Time for her to realize just how much her life had changed. “If I do, you die.”
She laughed at that. “What? Are you some sort of protector?”
Not hardly.
“Are you going to keep me safe from all the other big, bad wolves out there?”
“No.” Flat.
She blinked at that. A faint furrow appeared between her brows.
Jamie rubbed his chin. Time for some fast facts. “The human tasted like crap to you because you can’t handle his blood—”
“I’m a vampire,” said with a long sigh, as if speaking to a clueless child, “I can handle anyone’s blood.”
He risked a step toward her. His boots crunched on the gravel beneath him. “Not anymore you can’t.” Okay, she’d flip over this, but he figured it was best to just get it out there. “You see, your body’s tuned now. It’s only gonna want one thing. Can only accept one thing…”
Her head tilted as she studied him. “Tuned?” Her lips tightened in distaste. “I don’t know what you’re rambling about.”
“To survive, you need blood.” It was a simple fact of the undead life for a vampire. To keep existing, a vampire had to take in sustenance. Blood. And, usually, any blood would work to sustain a vamp.
But not for her. Not anymore.
“You were put under a spell,” he said this part quietly, with a hint of sympathy, because the spell had been a real bitch for her.
Her hands fisted. “I was there. I remember. You don’t have to tell me, wolf.”
The woman had more than a touch of arrogance. Probably because, if the stories were true, she actually had once been a queen.
“An alpha werewolf’s blood put you under the spell.” Here was the dicey part. But, really, what could she do to him? Without just hurting herself in return? “That meant only the blood of another alpha wolf could wake you.” And break the spell.
“So you’re an alpha. I’m so impressed,” she murmured, sounding not even the tiniest bit like she cared. A car horn honked in the distance. The wind kept brushing over them. Near the back of the bar, a chime tossed music into the air. Iona shoved back her hair. “It’s not like I haven’t met and killed a dozen of your kind before.”