Page 26 of Visions of You
"You can drink from me," the dragon said, touching his neck. "I don't mind."
"No," Keegan said immediately. As much as he enjoyed the taste of Jaron's blood, if he indulged in it now… He wasn't likely to be able to focus his visions on the missing persons.
Jaron frowned. "Do I taste bad?"
Quite the opposite.
Keegan had never tasted anything as good as the dragon. Involuntarily, he wetted his lips. "You gave blood just recently," he said. "You shouldn't offer yourself again so quickly."
Apollo looked at Jaron. "You gave blood?"
Jaron ignored Apollo, keeping his gaze trained on Keegan. "I didn't lose that much," he insisted. "You can have more at any time."
Keegan swallowed.
God, why did this dragon have to tempt him like that? When Keegan closed his eyes for a second, he caught the scent of him in the air. The scent of his sweet, sweet blood rushing through his veins.
Keegan wanted to sink his fangs into Jaron's neck and drink from him.
How powerful could he become, he wondered, with his fated mate by his side?
More powerful than he could handle, maybe—and he'd be paying the ultimate price for all that extra juice.
"I'm not drinking from you now," he made himself say.
"But it's not because I taste bad." Jaron searched his face, and then he smiled. "Is it because you're scared of what you'll do once you've had a taste?"
Keegan huffed, scrambling to come up with a good response when the shifter hit so close to the truth. And that smile.
Damn that smile.
It made it very difficult for him to be quick-witted.
"Jaron," Apollo said. "Please remember that you're at work, and please don't piss off the vampire," he added in a lower tone of voice. Louder, he said, "There's a vending machine down the street. Go fetch a bottle from it."
Keegan struggled to keep his face neutral at that suggestion. Vending machine blood was awful.
"There's a store around the corner as well," Iskander, his hero, pointed out. "Grab a bottle from there. It's better quality."
"Thank you," Keegan said.
Iskander only nodded.
Jaron rose. "All right. The store it is. Any preferences?"
Keegan stopped himself from mentioning that his favorite kind of blood was dragon blood. "Any blood will do."
"Got it. You're not picky." He headed for the door. "Be right back."
Jaron trudged out of Iskander's apartment. Secretly, he was more than a little disappointed that Keegan had refused his blood, and the cool night air did little to soothe his agitation as he made his way to the 24-hour convenience store down the road.
Why wouldn't Keegan just take what he offered freely?
Didn't vampires always prefer real warm blood to the bottled stuff?
Keegan should have thanked him rather than shot him down.
So why did Jaron have to go to the store now?
