Page 70 of The Fated Hunter Wolf
“You’re bleeding again,” I breathed.
He looked down at himself, surprise flickering across his features as he took in the spreading stains on his shirt. “These were almost closed yesterday.”
They weren’t almost closed now. They were open, weeping, creating thin rivulets that traced the contours of his chest like some cosmic joke designed specifically to test my control.
My vampire nature surged forward with the subtlety of a tidal wave.Wounded. Vulnerable. Ours.
“Rhys.” His name came out as a growl that made him tense up.
“Your teeth,” he said, wonder filling his tone as he came closer. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to hide them, but it was too late. He’d seen. He knew what I was becoming—what I’d always been beneath the careful control.
The room seemed to contract around us. Every breath he took carried the scent of his blood directly into my lungs, and my body responded with hunger so acute it was almost painful.
“If your wounds are reopening, this is bad,” I whispered.
“How bad?” He lifted his shirt.
Before I could answer, one of the wounds on his chest opened further. I watched in horrified fascination as the longest cut—the one that traced from his collarbone to just above his heart—split wider, sending fresh blood soaking through cotton like an offering.
The scent hit me. Rich and copper-bright. Buzzing with the life force that vampire legends were built on.
My knees buckled and I fell to the floor.
“Sable!” He moved toward me, but I held up a hand to stop him.
“Don’t.” The word came out strangled. “Don’t come any closer.”
“You’re falling apart.”
“I’m managing.” But I wasn’t. The hunger was building, layer upon layer, until it was all I could taste. All I could think about. His blood. His life force. The way it would feel flowing down my throat, warm and vital and his.
My vampire nature whispered seductive promises.Just a taste. Just enough to stop the burning. He’s bleeding anyway—we’d be helping him. Healing him. Taking only what was already lost.
“Sable.” His voice was growing desperate. “What’s happening to you?”
“I’m turning into exactly what you think I am.”
Understanding dawned across his features. “A vampire.”
“Half-vampire.” The distinction felt important. “The side I’ve been suppressing my entire life. You’re bleeding, and I can smell it, and this bond has stripped away everything I’ve always used to control it.” I forced myself to stand, to put distance between us, but the hunger followed me like a living thing. “I’m fighting it. There’s this need telling me to?—”
“To what?”
The question hung in the air.
“To feed,” I whispered.
The word seemed to echo in the small space. His eyes darkened.
“Would it help?” he asked quietly.
“Help what?”
“This. Us. The way we’re both falling apart.”
I tried to process what he was suggesting. Because he was right—we were both falling apart. The damaged bond had caused dependency, and it was making our supernatural natures war against each other. My vampire side was emerging while his wolf couldn’t heal his wounds—they refused to close.
