Death's Servant(40)

With a jolt I awake, Dria’s intense green eyes staring at me from a few inches away. “What are you doing here, wolfman?”
I sit up, fumbling to turn off the TV in my haste. “I’m here to honor my end of the bargain.”
“Isn’t that interesting.” Her fangs are fully descended when she speaks, but she doesn’t lisp or stutter around the longer canines. “By my husband’s absence, it’s safe to guess he put you up to this?”
“We spoke earlier, yes. But it’s the right thing to do. I made a promise and I intend to stand by it.”
She waves off my words with a delicate gesture of one slim hand. “Pish-posh. You think I really care about that little deal we made?” She studies her perfect manicure. “You need to leave. Now.”
“No.”
Her gaze hardens, a glitter of her anger and restraint leaking in for me to witness. “Did you just tell me ‘no’?”
I stretch out, putting my legs out in front of me, like I haven’t a care in the world. Damn, this provoking a vampire shit makes me feel like I’m walking a tightrope over a river filled with crocs and piranha. Feigning nonchalance is harder than I thought. “Yup, I did. Guess your well-trained husband doesn’t deny you much, huh Dria?”#p#分页标题#e#
In a split second she leaps and pins me to the back of the couch. Her mouth opens wide, salvia dripping off her sharp teeth to splatter upon my cheek. “Don’t insult Rafe. He is no one’s lap-dog. Least of all, mine.”
“Hey, you’re drooling there.” I casually wipe my cheek. “Might want to watch that.”
A short scream rips from her as she pushes away from me, shoving me into the cushion in her frustration. “Goddammit, Rafe! Where the hell are you?!”
She begins to pace back and forth across the room, her movements stiff and jerky.
“Come on, Dria. Just bite me and take what you need.”
“Is that what this is all about?” She whirls around to face me, her hunger straining her every muscle. “I can resist you if I must. I’ve survived worse hunger than this before.”
“I’m sure you have.” I pat the couch next to me, indicating she should take a seat near me. She ignores me and goes back to pacing. “But why resist when you don’t have to? Why not let me take some of your burden and feed you from my strength?”
“You don’t know what you’re asking!”
I stand and approach her, still giving her a few feet safe distance. “Dria, look at me.” Her gaze flicks briefly in my direction then jerks away. “I do know what I’m offering. I’m offering to pledge myself to you. To let you gain strength from me to use when you need it. To fight by your side no matter what the future holds.”
“You make it sound so noble.” She snorts. “Sounds like some shit Rafe filled you with.” She continues to pace, her nervous energy driving her relentlessly. “It’s not noble to lose your free will. It’s not noble to put your needs before someone else’s. It’s not noble to want to give until you die!”
I reach out and grab her arm, hauling her around to face me. Her jaw snaps shut with a snarl. “It is when you trust the person you give your loyalty to.”
She looks to the floor, her chest heaving. “You don’t know me enough to give that kind of trust.”
I give her a shake and force her attention on me. “You think so? Let me tell you what I do know—you have a husband who has stood by your side for well over fifty years. Would you say he gave his loyalty to you on a whim?”
“No, never. Rafe is different.” Her eyes gaze off into the distance, past my shoulder. “He has experienced pain and suffering. He lived a life before he sought me out. He came to me knowing exactly what he was getting into. His eyes were wide open and his heart was pure.”
“Well, I have no idea what life he led before marrying you, but I know my heart and mind on this.” I reach over to the table where Rafe ate his meal and snag a steak knife. “And the choice is mine.” I slice the serrated edge across my left wrist and watch the blood pool before running across my skin and dripping to the floor.






 
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Chapter Eighteen

The smell of fresh spilled blood fills the air between us. Dria’s breathing becomes ragged as she stares at the red on my wrist. She shudders, but miraculously still resists.
“Dear God,” she whispers. “Is that chocolate I smell?”