I’m an animal, now. No longer human or vampire.

  An animal, feral and primal, instinct taking over for reason, for intuition, for emotion.

  Give yourself to him. Fuck him.

  Mate with him.

  Our tongues tangle and duel. Our hearts pound in synchrony. Our bodies throb in tandem. He pushes his erection against me, and my legs weaken as electricity pulses between them.

  He’ll jump through all kinds of hoops to get to you.

  God, yes.

  All I want is him, kissing me, touching me, fucking me into oblivion.

  Except—

  No!

  I push against his hard chest, our lips releasing with a smack.

  He pushes a few strands of hair that have come loose out of his eyes. “Are you a cock tease now, princess?”

  I’ve never been a cock tease in my life, but this is all too easy. Way too easy. What didn’t my father tell me?

  “I don’t even know your name,” I lie.

  “Sure, you do. Daddy must have told you all about me.”

  “He didn’t.”

  A low growl emerges from his throat. “Lying doesn’t look good on you, princess.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “Then stop lying. You know exactly who I am.”

  I pause a few seconds. What the hell? “Victor Rogan. Owner of The London. Alpha were.”

  His lips curve into a snarling smile. “So you do know me. And you’re Hannah Bates, firstborn daughter of William, the vampire king, and his human mate, Elisa Franklin.”

  “I guess I don’t have to show you my ID then. How did you know I was lying?”

  “Your pupils dilate slightly when you lie. It’s a common trait among vampires.”

  I try to hide my surprise. “Since you know who I am, you also know I’m only half vamp.”

  “Your pupils still reacted.”

  Why didn’t my father warn me about the pupil dilating thing? Surely he knows. I shake my head. “Lucky me. My vamp side has always been dominant, unfortunately.”

  “You’d rather it not be?”

  “Not have to obey when my”—air quotes—“royal father calls? Yeah, I think I’d like that.” My body is still throbbing and hyper aware of Victor. “Can all weres see this pupil thing?”

  He shakes his head. “Very few of us, actually. Wolf eyesight isn’t the best in general. I’m an anomaly.”

  In more ways than one.

  That explains why my father didn’t tell me about the eye thing. He probably doesn’t know.

  “How did that come about?” I ask.

  “Just lucky, I guess,” he growls.

  He’s advancing toward me again. His eyes are two green flames. I can tell him I’m not interested, but he doesn’t need to be able to read my pupils to know I’d be lying.

  This is what I’m here for. To seduce him. Except this isn’t a seduction. This is a pure and raw taking. Not that I mind, but I’m not going to get any information out of this man if I don’t make him wait for what he desires.

  I hold up my hand. “Stop right there.”

  He growls again. “Fucking cock tease.”

  “I’m perfectly willing to fuck you, Rogan. I just need a few answers of my own, first.”

  “You’ll get no answers from me.”

  “Then you’ll get no honey from me,” I say with sweet sarcasm.

  “Such a fucking liar,” he says. “Damn it! Why is this happening?”

  “I just can’t⁠—”

  “No! That’s not what I mean. I mean this… This…need for you. This yearning. This damned ache. Why? It’s not…right.”

  I scoff. “You sweet talker, you.”

  “Easy, princess. I’m not in the mood.”

  I eye the bulge in his crotch. “Seems like you are to me.”

  “You know what I mean.” He stalks toward me once more. “If I can’t fuck you, I think I’ll go insane.”

  My gums tingle, and this time I can’t stop my fangs. They erupt, shooting the blood lust through me like surging electricity.

  His heartbeat… God, so loud! I inhale a whiff of his strong wolf scent.

  Blood. Need blood.

  “You have to leave,” I say. “Now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Yeah, you are.” The blood lust courses through me, and I open the door and push him into the hallway. I slam the door and lock the deadbolt.

  My strength during the blood lust never ceases to surprise me. Victor is tall and muscled, and I pushed him out the door as if he were a waif.

  If he only knew how much I wanted to sink my fangs into his flesh, draw on his wolf blood.

  Instead, I take the small cooler out of my suitcase and extract a bag of O positive. Though I’m tempted to rip it open and feast, I restrain myself. Explaining a blood bath on my bed to housekeeping isn’t on my to do list. I take the bag to the bathroom, hold it over the sink, and open it. Then I pour it down my throat.

  Smooth and thick, it quells the lust but not the hunger.

  For I know only one thing will sate my hunger now.

  Victor Rogan.

  Later, after cleaning every speck of blood from the bathroom, I lie in bed. Sleep doesn’t come, and it’s not because I’m nocturnal.

  The blood didn’t satisfy my hunger.

  I’ve never fed from a living being.

  I don’t want to start now, but I’m desperate. Even alone in my room, the thumping hearts of the other guests invade my ears. Blood is all around. Fresh, warm blood.

  Dare I?

  I rise and dress in the clothes I wore earlier. Maybe if I take a walk, get some exercise, use up some of the pent-up energy I should have expended fucking Victor.

  Damn, there’s a lot of it.

  I wander to the elevators and down to the lobby. The crowds from earlier are gone, but the casino is still hopping at three a.m. Has my father considered moving headquarters here? Vegas is the perfect place for nocturnal people.

  God, all the blood!

  I have to get out of here. I whisk toward the revolving doorway and go outside. The night is balmy, and even a breeze doesn’t cool me off.

  I need to get off the strip. Too many lights.

  I crave darkness. Darkness, where I can do what I need to do.

  A few blocks later I’m in an alleyway. A stray cat brushes my legs on his way to pounce on a mouse.

  For a second, I envy him. I’d settle for mouse blood at this point, though the thought nauseates me as much as it intrigues me.

  What’s wrong with me? Why do I crave⁠—

  I inhale. A man. He’s recently eaten, and he’s here. Somewhere in this alleyway. His heart. It beats slow and steady. He’s full.

  I’m not.

  My nose leads me behind a dumpster. He’s asleep.

  Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. His carotid beckons, pulsing in his neck.

  No. No, Hannah! No!

  My fangs are ready, dripping, aching to plunge into flesh.

  I venture closer, closer, closer…

  I’m kneeling above him now, the pulse in his neck urging me on.

  Take it. Take it. Take it.

  My lips curl, and my mouth drops open.

  6

  I lower myself, and⁠—

  The flesh is soft beneath my tongue, and the blood… It flows into me and through me, giving me strength and sustenance.

  It’s warm and sweet, laced with testosterone and the spiciness of the burrito he recently ate.

  Stop!

  I withdraw, licking his wounds closed. He’s still sleeping, thank God. I haven’t taken enough to harm him.

  No need for mind control. He didn’t even wake up.

  I stand, ready to face the world.

  Once again, the blood lust is satisfied.

  But not the hunger.

  Damn!

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly to the man.

  I’ve violated him, and for what? My hunger still exists. My only solace is that he’ll never know what was done to him.

  Never again, Hannah.

  Yet I understand now. I understand why vampires become addicted to fresh blood—its warmth, its flavor, its intensity.

  “You bitch,” I say under my breath. Then I turn to leave my victim in peace.

  “Not so fast, sweetheart.”

  I jerk when someone grabs me. The chill of a blade presses into my neck.

  Damn! I let my guard down. Let myself feel guilt for taking blood from a living being. And now⁠—

  I lift my thigh and execute a back kick, freeing myself from the assailant. His blade slices into me, a searing pain on the side of my neck. But it’s a shallow cut—one that won’t slow me down.

  Vamp vision is good. In the midst of all the traits bestowed on me that I don’t want, I’m glad I inherited that one. Hearing is even better. I hear the distinct heartbeats of not one but three individuals. They’re pumping quickly. Adrenaline is surging—in them and in me. Testosterone is abundant. They’re all men.

  My vision adjusts, and I make out the forms. All taller and wider than I am. That’s okay. I’ve taken on many a man in the Taekwondo sparring ring and emerged victorious.

  I’ve never taken on three men at once, though.

  The guy who first attacked me is panting. I knocked a good wind out of him, but he’ll regain his breath eventually. The other two circle me. The one to the right’s heart is thumping faster. He’s frightened. Good. I’ll take the one on the left first. He’s more of a challenge and more of threat.

  I race toward him, jumping into the air and executing two front snap kicks to his chest. He lands on the ground with an oof and a “fucking bitch!”

  I take the few seconds I have to turn and roundhouse kick the other in the face.

  Shit. The third guy—the one with the blade—has regained his composure. He advances on me, and I turn and swiftly take down his shoulder with an axe kick. He falls to his knees.

  But I can’t see all of them at once, and out of nowhere, a fist punches my cheek with a thud.

  It’s the third guy, the one who’s frightened.

  Not so frightened anymore. I sway but hold my ground. Adrenaline minimized any pain. I land an uppercut to his jaw and turn swiftly, but a kick lands on my abdomen.

  I double over, grunting at the dull ache, but I keep my neck tilted upward so as not to lose my line of sight.

  Two. Two of them are circling me, coming in for the kill. Where’s the other? Where the fuck⁠—

  “Aauugghhh!” I fall to the ground.

  A blow to my back.

  Stand up, Hannah. Get the fuck up!

  But another blow comes, this one to my head.

  I widen my eyes, stars dancing around my vision.

  Get. The. Fuck. Up.

  I pull up one knee, and then the other… Can’t make them work. Can’t stand.

  Yes, yes, you can.

  Both knees have weight now. I’m in a squat, bracing myself for the next blow.

  It doesn’t come.

  Finally I manage to rise. Two of the thugs are on the ground, unconscious. The other is in a fist fight with⁠—

  I don’t need to squint to make out his form.

  My nose tells me exactly who it is.

  Leather. Pine. Wolf.

  Victor Rogan.

  I no longer hear the blood rushing through the other three. Only Victor’s blood rivering in his veins hits my ears.

  Need to help him. Need to…

  I fall to the hard ground once more.

  I grit my teeth and rise again, my cheek, belly, and back aching. Blood trickles from my neck wound. I’ll be bruised tomorrow. Only my speed and prowess in Taekwondo saved me this evening, and those weren’t ultimately enough.

  Rogan.

  Rogan saved me.

  But…why?

  I walk, willing myself not to stumble, toward Rogan, where he’s got the third guy pinned against a brick wall next to the dumpster where I left the man I fed from.

  I glance quickly around. The man is gone.

  Can’t blame him. He probably woke up to this fight and fled to save his own hide.

  “Who sent you?” Victor growls. “Who fucking sent you?”

  The thug spits in his face.

  Rogan tightens his hold until the thug is gasping for air.

  “You will answer me.”

  Mind control. Weres don’t have the ability. Vamps do. I’m not as good as a full blood, but I can do it if the need is dire.

  Right now, I need Victor’s blood. That’s my dire need. Which means this thug needs to answer Rogan’s question so I can get what I crave.

  Problem is, I’m weak. My body has taken a beating. Will that hamper my ability to exercise control over this thug’s mind?

  I walk toward Rogan until only three feet separate us. I concentrate, meeting the thug’s gaze.

  “Answer him,” I say.

  Nothing.

  I close the distance a foot. “Answer him.”

  “Vampire…mind…tricks,” the thug chokes out.

  As I suspected, I’m too weak.

  “Don’t…work…on…me…”

  My breath comes rapidly. Just that little bit of focus took all the energy I have left. Mind control doesn’t work? It works on most humans, which means…

  This thug isn’t human.

  He’s not a vampire or a wolf. I’d be able to scent him.

  Rogan pulls the thug toward him quickly and then knocks his head against the wall. The thug crumples to the ground.

  Rogan turns to me, his eyes wild and feral and intense. He growls, and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to change.

  Right here before my eyes.

  He holds it together, though. Sort of. A wave of lust is thick between us, almost visible in its intensity.

  I’m still breathing rapidly, my legs weak, and I fall against the brick wall.

  He moves toward me, his heart so loud and furious. His blood. Oh, God, his blood…

  I don’t expect kindness or gentleness.

  So when he cups my cheek, I widen my eyes.

  “Are you okay?” He gazes at my neck. “You need a bandage.”

  “I’m clotting already. It’s fine.”

  Indeed, the neck scrape is the least of my concerns.

  All I can see is that thumping artery in his neck.

  All I can hear is his blood racing through his body.

  All I can smell is his musky and outdoorsy wolf scent.

  All I can feel are his warm fingers against my flesh.

  And inside…the hunger. The hunger I fear I’ll never be able to sate if I don’t take this chance.

  My gums tingle and I embrace the sharp pain as my teeth grow downward. Fangs. My fangs. Need to feed.

  The blood lust strengthens me, gives my legs back their muscles, my spine back its straightness.

  Now. Now. Now.

  I melt into Victor Rogan, grab two fistfuls of his hair, pull him toward me…

  And I sink my teeth into his neck.

  7

  Darkest of reds. I don’t see, but I know. Black-red. Ambrosia. A gourmet succulent feast. Spicy like the hottest chili pepper and smooth like the finest dark chocolate. The consistency of honey from the sweetest smelling bloom.

  Rich. Oh, so rich.

  This blood. This wolf blood. An elixir I can never get enough of.

  I drink.

  And I drink.

  The answer to my hunger—the hunger that has plagued me since I first saw Victor Rogan in a photograph.

  The hunger I fear will never be sated by anything but his blood.

  I drink.

  And I drink.

  Surely he’ll stop me.

  Surely he’ll…

  But he doesn’t.

  He allows me to feed.

  I’m ravenous. So ravenous. Yes, I fed from a bag earlier. Yes, I fed from a man earlier.

  None of that matters.

  All that matters is this man. This blood.

  With every drop of his blood I ingest, I feel my strength returning, my body healing.

  “Princess.”

  His voice. A growl. Coming from somewhere outside the cloud surrounding us.

  “Princess.”

  You’ve had enough, Hannah.

  Oh, but I don’t want to stop. His essence intoxicates me, strengthens me…

  “Princess.”

  I remove my teeth from his flesh and lick the wounds to coagulate them.

  Then I step backward, meet his gaze.

  His eyes are the dark green of a forest full of evergreens. They smolder. He growls again.

  “My blood is on your lips, dripping down your chin. Fuck. Beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so—” He inhales, closing his eyes.

  Then he clamps his mouth to mine.

  I open, knowing he tastes his own blood on my tongue. The idea thrills me, enthralls me. His groans vibrate into me as we kiss.

  His heart… My heart… Their beats don’t quite synchronize, and it’s music to my ears, beautiful in its discord. Our own disharmonic symphony.

  Until he jerks away, breaking the kiss.

  “Fuck,” he growls.

  “Sounds good to me,” I say.

  “What is it about you?”

  He’ll jump through all kinds of hoops to get to you.

  “I don’t know. What is it about you?”

  “I let you take my blood.”

  “Yes, you did.” I clear my throat. “Thank you. It was…” Delicious? God, so much more than that. Luscious? Intoxicating? Fucking glorious? “Good.”

  He growls once more. “I’ve never let a vamp soil me by taking my blood.”

  “Soil? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing personal. It’s just our way. We don’t allow vampires to feed on us.”

  I scoff. “I guess you’ll never be High Alpha, huh? Don’t inhale when you smoke pot. Don’t let a vamp feed from you. Those are the rules, right? Or are they more like guidelines?”

  He pulls away. “Fuck! Can you stop being sarcastic for one minute?”

  “No,” I reply. Truth.

  “I don’t want to be High Alpha. I never did. I just want…” He tugs at his hair, pulling the band out and letting it flow over his broad shoulders.

  My body tingles, all feeling arrowing straight between my legs.

  “What?” I ask, breathless. “What do you want?”

 

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