Before the loud crack of the shot had completely died out, Devon was standing by her side, not a foot away from her. He wrenched the gun from her hands.
Max fought. With everything she had, she fought him, but his strength...his strength was colossal...not human.
Oh my God, he’s not human.
He laughed again, obviously enjoying her struggles, her fear, and Max knew she was going to die. “You’re right.” His voice betrayed his excitement, the sick enjoyment he was getting from this. “On all counts, I’m afraid. I’m not human, you are going to die, and yes...I am reading your mind.”
His hand was tight around her throat now, squeezing, crushing her windpipe. She clawed at his wrist, his arm, trying to loosen his hold enough to pull oxygen into her burning lungs. Her vision was quickly going fuzzy and dark, black shadows like syrupy globs of ink floating in front of her eyes.
“Fuck you,” she rasped on her one last puff of air, fingers still clawing at the manacle of a wrist that held her to him.
His head bent to her neck, and she felt those teeth grazing the column of her throat, felt his tongue come out and lick the sweat from her skin in one long swipe. At that moment she knew exactly what was happening, exactly what she had unwittingly come up against—
Vampire.
His claws dug into the flesh and muscle of her upper arms as he pulled her closer to him. He smelled of dirt and blood and evil—exactly what you expected the essence of insanity to smell like. She gasped as the teeth tore through her skin with brutal efficiency. She could feel her blood trickling thickly down her neck to the valley of her breasts, sticky and hot. Inside her mind Max felt his satisfaction, his eagerness. He wanted to rip her apart like an animal, but she sensed he was weak and his need for her blood was great. He couldn’t afford to waste any of it with games.
The teeth that pierced her went deep, and she couldn’t help the moan passing across her lips at the sharp tug of his mouth on her skin as he started to draw her blood into his mouth. The sounds were like something out of a bad movie, sucking and slurping and great hungry swallows.
Oh God, this was really happening to her. She was going to die out here at the hands of this monster...and it’s all Baron’s fault.
Devon was surprised. Very surprised. What luck he was having this night.
He let the woman’s smooth, rich blood fill him, heal him. He could feel the burns on his face fading and knew the charred, ruined skin was turning pink and healthy again. His body warmed as her blood started pumping in his starved veins.
He had intended to drain the woman dry—he sorely needed her rejuvenating blood to restore him to full strength—but she had surprised him with her spirit and fire, just as she had surprised him with her thoughts.
Baron.
Oh, it was too good to be true, but the proof was right there in her mind, in the fevered whisper of the damn Immortal’s name inside her head. The Immortal who had dared take his mate from him. The Immortal who had been close on his heels every night since then like a bloodhound after a scent.
Devon had been forced into hiding—an animal on the run. Hunted.
A week after losing Bettina, the bastards had found and raided his lair in the city, forcing him out onto the street just moments before dawn. He’d managed to avoid the sun, but only barely. And two nights ago, they’d found him again. Only by the skin of his pointed vampire teeth, by the strength of his hatred and desire to have vengeance upon their hides, had he managed to escape the fire they’d set to trap him. Thankfully, he found his way into the subway tunnels before the sun could do more than just blister his skin.
He still suffered from the painful burns, and it didn’t help that he was forced to seek shelter out here in the middle of nowhere to avoid the Immortals that continued to hunt him mercilessly. Here, where human traffic was non-existent at night, making human blood impossible to find. Injured and weak as he was, he needed a large amount of it to heal him completely and there was none to be found...until tonight. Until one lone woman’s car just happened to break down on the side of the road only meters from his newly appointed home sweet home.
Devon’s hatred for the Immortals thundered hotly in his veins. He hungered constantly for the revenge he had promised them. For what they had done to his beloved Bettina they both deserved to die—deserved more than death.
This surprising young woman would be his first strike against them.
Her sweet blood still flowed into his mouth, drawing a sharp moan of pleasure from his lips, and he drank until he knew she was but moments from her death.
Her heart had slowed, barely beating now, her breathing shallow. Her eyes were closed, long, soft lashes brushing the tops of her paper white cheeks, and her hand no longer clutched his wrist to pull him away, but fell limply to her side.
She really was a beautiful woman, and looking at her, Devon felt the loss of his Bettina sharply.
He pulled from her throat and scored his wrist with his teeth, pushing the bloody gash to her mouth.
“Drink.”
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