Page 41 of Exes, Hexes, and Strategy
Nina swiped a hand through her hair feeling ridiculous. She’d known that. How many times had she watched in fascination as Rafe’s fangs elongated?
Morgan, meanwhile, was all business. While Nina sat there listening, practically dumbstruck, the other woman gave a short precis of Nina’s injuries, the apparent loophole that had saved her life, and the contract she would now need to fulfill as a Turned vampire.
There was no hand-holding from the senior Hunter, no coddling, or ‘easing’ as Rafe had attempted. It was a straightforward declaration ofthis is how it is, now deal with it, and it was exactly what Nina needed to hear to clear the cobwebs from her brain and accept her new reality.
“Congratulations,” Morgan said, extending her hand for Nina to shake. “You’re now officially a Hunter.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
She may officially be a Hunter because of the contract that now bound her to the Hunters’ Society, but Nina’s training was far from over. Not only that, but she’d have to complete that training while getting used to the new her. A new her that drank blood and, after a time, wouldn’t be able to go out in the sunlight – boo – but also a her that was stronger, faster, and still had access to her magic.
The first time she’d lifted something that would have been heavy when she was human, she had ended up accidentally tossing the thing over her head when it had come up too easily. It had flown out of her hands only to lodge into the wall. A wall that would now have to be repaired and repainted because of her.
Her first sprint around the track at vampiric speed had actually made her dizzy and when she’d finally stopped, she had fallen over flat on her face to the amusement of several of the other vampires.
And in magical training, when she’d called the water to her, what should have been a trickle had been a deluge that ended up flooding Ms. Bishop’s classroom. Not that the witch had minded. She’d laughed it off, patted Nina on the back, muttered something about installing drains in the floor, and congratulated Nina on a job well done.
Nina had been saying a whole lot of ‘sorry’ lately, as she attempted to master the vampirism, but that was okay. She’d get there, and luckily, everyone was being a good sport about her clumsiness.
“How are you feeling?” Rafe asked for what had to have been the hundredth time, but she didn’t mind. If she’d seen him at death’s door, she’d be continually asking that question as well.
Smiling, she laced her fingers with his. “I’m good.”
And she was. There were downsides to being a vampire, of course, and she had to stay on top of her feeding schedule to make sure she didn’t cross any lines – as Morgan had explained, vampires were predators, the need to hunt prey their default setting, but if she was diligent, and drank frequently enough from the ready supply of bagged blood at the facility, she’d stay in control.
The biggest upside, however, was Rafe. How many times had she wished she hadn’t been born a witch so that she could be Turned, and they could spend their eternities together? No longer did she have to agonize over thoughts of growing old, sickly, and eventually dying, leaving him behind to mourn her.
And now that Vincent DeMarco was no longer an issue, they didn’t have to hide how they felt about each other. They could sit together at meals, hold hands, laugh together openly at a shared joke without the paranoia that had dogged her for so long intruding on the moment. If she chose to stand up on a table and announce to the world that she loved Raphael DeMarco, she could do so. It was positively liberating.
“With the second round of cuts over, I thought we’d celebrate,” he said with a smile as he showed her the bottle of champagne he’d stashed in their ‘love cave’ as she’d come to think of it.
Intrigued, Nina eyed him. “Just drinks, or did you have something else in mind?” she asked suggestively. Since she’d left the infirmary, they’d had little time to be alone together what with round two of the training in full swing. By the time morning broke after a night of what felt like being tortured by their instructors, both of them were physically and mentally exhausted, ready only for a good day’s sleep before they had to get up and repeat the process.
But not tonight. Tonight was theirs and her mind suddenly filled with images of stripping Rafe of his clothes slowly, her hands skating over his flesh as she licked champagne off his delectable body.
Her vision flickered blue, and she blinked her eyes rapidly to try to clear it. “What was that?” she asked Rafe, who was looking at her with hooded eyes and a delicious smile that hinted at secrets.
Placing his hands on her hips, he tugged her against him. “Turned vampires’ eyes go black when they’re hungry,” he told her with a sexy purr that had her abdomen clenching and her core pulsing in anticipation.
Licking her lips, she shook her head. “I just had a bag of blood.”
“That’s not the kind of hungry I’m talking about.”
His mouth latched onto hers with a growl that sent a shiver of arousal coursing down her spine. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she pressed even closer, a little moan of pleasure leaving her throat.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered as his kisses moved from her mouth to the line of her jaw, then down the column of her throat.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he breathed. The air on the dampened skin of her neck made her shiver.
His palm slid from her hip to her ribcage, and back down, stroking, teasing, never quite finding its way to her aching breasts. His fingers gripped the bottom edge of her shirt and she raised her arms so he could pull it easily over her head.
“You are so beautiful,” he said almost reverently as he cupped her lace-covered breasts, the erect peaks clearly visible. He traced them gently, an almost ticklish caress and she pushed closer with a little mewling sound of need, seeking the pressure of those palms.
Her own hands were busy as well as she set to work undoing the line of buttons on his shirt and then quickly parting the sides so she could press her palms against heated skin, memorizing the feel of every hard plane and valley, every sculpted muscle. Such a beautiful, beautiful man was her Rafe.
His abdominal muscles flexed deliciously as her fingertips drifted down to the closure of his pants. Quickly freeing the button and lowering the zip, she pushed them down his hips to pool at his ankles. The hard ridge of his erection was outlined in the soft, gray cotton of boxer briefs and she cupped his length, exalting in the sound of Rafe’s hissed breath of pleasure.
He kicked the pants away as his fingers nimbly worked the button fly of her jeans and pushed them down along with her underpants. Her bra was gone a half-second later. “I want to see you,” he growled. “All of you.”
