Page 69 of The Fated Hunter Wolf
How could I say it was about how to explain why I knew vampires were coming before anyone else scented them? About why my first instinct was to assess my escape routes instead of defensive positions. About how I recognized them, beyond their being a threat.
“Nothing important,” I lied.
“You’ve been ‘thinking’ since we got here. At some point, thinking becomes brooding.”
I completed another circuit of the room, noting how the afternoon light streaming through the windows made his hair look like spun gold. His pulse beat steadily in his throat, visible even from across the room. The scent of his blood was becoming more noticeable with each passing hour.
That last thought should have alarmed me more than it did.
“Sable.”
“What?”
“Stop. Moving.”
I froze mid-step, every muscle in my body going taut. It wasn’t that he’d commanded it—I’d spent too many years watching the dominance displays of Heraclid alphas to be impressed—but because something in his tone made the thing I’d been suppressing for days lift its head like a snake tasting the air.
Hunger.
“Since when do you give me orders?” I asked. My voice came out lower than intended. I looked away from him, hoping to break the enchantment.
“Apparently since you started looking at me like I’m dinner.”
The words hit like ice water. I spun to face him, and I saw the way his nostrils flared as he scented the change in me. His pupilsdilated despite the bright afternoon light and his hands gripped the arms of the couch.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even as I said it, I could feel my canines lengthening. Just slightly. Enough to press against my lower lip when I spoke.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, and his throat worked as he swallowed hard.
“Your eyes,” he said quietly. “They’re different.”
Shit.
I turned to the window and caught my reflection in the glass. Silver eyes stared back at me, pupils elongated like a cat’s. The irises I’d worn my entire life had been consumed by metallic light that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Hisheartbeat.
“This isn’t happening,” I whispered. My voice carried harmonic undertones that made the glass vibrate. My vampire nature was coming out against my will.
Behind me, I heard him stand. His sharp intake of breath. “Sable.”
I didn’t turn around. If I looked at him with these intense eyes, with fangs pressing against my tongue and hunger clawing at my ribs like a caged thing, I might do something we’d both regret.
Or worse, something we’d both want.
“Stay back,” I managed.
“Like hell.”
His scent hit me as he moved closer—pine and wolf musk and all Rhys, and it made the predator in me purr with satisfaction. But underneath that, something made my mouth water and my newly emerged fangs descend fully.
Blood.
Fresh blood under his white T-shirt, seeping slowly from those wounds that wouldn’t heal. The ones I’d given to him. Themetallic tang carried promises my vampire nature recognized as both sustenance and salvation.
I whirled around before I could stop myself.
The wounds were actively bleeding, looking as fresh as the moment I’d inflicted them.
