Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“It's not enough,” I said as Talon slid in on the other side of my massive bed, his weight dipping it even as he kept two arm lengths’ worth of space between us.
I turned on my side to face him, and he mimicked the movement, the motions almost natural between us now after four days of sleeping in the same bed. Some days we stayed up past dawn discussing where and what Edward might be doing—thanks to my room being light tight and protected from the island’s bright sun—but eventually we’d always succumb to sleep.
Sleep was the last thing I wanted to do now.
I wanted to feel alive again.
I wanted to feel wanted again.
I wanted to feel like I had last night where, for a brief moment in time, I’d held the attention of this annoyingly gorgeous hunter.
“I'm fine,” he said.
“You're not, though,” I said. “I can feel how hungry you are. I didn't realize it was going to be this difficult to get blood to you. We're going to have to figure this out.”
And I didn't just mean the blood, but whatever was crackling between us needed to be sated. Maybe the sexual tension brewing between us could be chalked up to his hunger or perhaps his hatred for me. Either way, I didn't care. I just wanted it taken care of.
Desire flooded my veins, and Talon’s nostrils flared across the bed.
I knew he could scent me. I didn't care. I would not be ashamed for how my body reacted to this male. Something entirely out of my control.
“You need to feed,” I said. “You could feed from me—”
“I'll find something to eat in the jungle tomorrow,” he cut me off, flipping around so his back was to me.
I glared at him, rejection and vulnerability crashing inside me so intensely I felt ill.
Did he think I offered my blood to everyone?
I didn't.
I was trying to save the stubborn old asshole, and he’d just thrown it in my face.
I turned my back on him too, gripping my pillow harder than necessary.
Well, fuck him then.
I hoped he starved to death.
CHAPTER 7
Talon
Ihadn’t experienced hunger like this since the time Saint went rogue and we had to quarantine ourselves with him. None of us fed for weeks. Somehow, we didn’t slaughter each other, but we’d come close. Five starving vampires locked in close quarters could chafe even the strongest bonds.
The second time we had to do it, we’d gone into statis, just to be safe.
And now here I was, five hundred years later, starving for an entirely new reason.
My paws pressed against the marble floors of Cassandra’s family estate as we went about our usual routine, which mainly consisted of swallowing loads of criticism and downright insults from her mother.
“Oh, I forgot to mention, the Wrights will be paying us a visit at the end of the week,” her mother said, smiling suggestively over her shoulder at Cassandra without stopping her damned art tour. She’d tested Cassandra on every single piece adorning their grand walls, asking her who the painter was, what style it had been painted in, what century, etcetera.
“Will Archibald be accompanying his family?” Cassandra asked casually enough.
“Of course,” her mother said, keeping true to the condescending tone that she never let up from. Gods, it was annoying. I don’t know how Cassandra made it out of this family sane. “You know about Archibald’s affections for you.”
“I thought you hated the Wrights,” Cassandra said with a little more vigor. “You aren’t trying to make a match, are you?”
“Gods, child, do you think our family has stooped so low as to maritally align ourselves with the Wrights?”
A laugh trilled from Cassandra’s mouth, one I could tell was practiced and crafted to appeal to the uppity sensibilities of nobility. It was fake as shit, but her mother didn’t seem to notice.
I saw right through it. I’d heard her real laugh the other night, when she’d been blood drunk from whatever herbal concoction her mother had been force-feeding the human they’d drank from.
The memory rushed over me, making my fur bunch over my back and my stomach audibly gurgle.
Cassandra’s eyes fell to where I stood dutifully at her side.
“I’m fine,” I said down the connection between us.
“You’re starving,” she fired back, stroking those delicate fingers along the nape of my neck.
Gods help me, I leaned into that touch and purred.
I fucking purred.
“Such a good kitten,” she cooed down the bond.
I gave her a warning growl.
“Ah-hem,” her mother cleared her throat, and Cassandra ripped her eyes from mine, snapping her attention back to her mother quickly.
That was fear I felt shivering down our connection. An old fear, rooted deep and drenched in pain.
Fuck, what more had they done to her as a youngling?
“This one,” her mother demanded, tipping her head toward the painting we stood in front of. The colors were muted beiges, grays, blacks, with pops of red scattered along a bunched group of humans, all bending beneath a horned figure.