Maybe he‘d been partying with a rough crowd; he certainly looked big and dangerous enough to be part of some kind of gang. If he‘d been rolling with gangbangers tonight, she didn‘t detect any evidence of drugs on him. She didn‘t smell alcohol on him either. Just some heavy-duty smoke, and not from cigarettes.
He smelled like he‘d walked through fire. Just before he took a dive into the Mystic River.
―Can you move your arms or legs?‖ she asked him, moving on to inspect his limbs. ―Do you think you have any broken bones?‖
She skimmed her hands over his thick arms, feeling no obvious fractures. His legs were solid too, no real damage beyond the bullet wound in his left calf. From the look of it, the round appeared to have passed clean through. Same with the one that hit him in the torso. Luckily for him.
―I‘d like to move you to one of my exam rooms. Do you think you can walk if I help hold you up?‖
―Blood,‖ he gasped, his voice thready. ―Need it... now.‖
―Well, I‘m sorry, but I can‘t help you there. You‘ll need a hospital for that. Right now, we have to get you off this floor and out of those ruined clothes. God knows what kind of bacteria you picked up in that water out there.‖
She put her hands under his armpits and started to lift, encouraging him to stand. He growled, something deep and animalistic. As the sound left his mouth, Tess caught a glimpse of his teeth behind his curled upper lip.
Whoa. That’s weird.
Were those monstrous canines actually... fangs?
His eyes came open as if he had sensed her awareness. Her unease. Tess was instantly blasted by piercing bright amber light, the glowing irises sending a bolt of panic straight into her chest. Those sure as hell weren‘t contacts.
Good Lord. Something wasn’t right with this guy at all.
He grabbed her upper arms. Tess cried out in alarm. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was too strong. Hands as unyielding as iron bands clamped tighter around her and brought her closer. Tess shrieked, wide-eyed, frozen in fear as he drew her right up against him.
―Oh, God. No!‖
He turned his bloodied, battered face toward her throat. Sucked in a sharp breath as he neared her, his lips brushing her skin.
―Shhh.‖ Warm air skated across her neck as he spoke in a low, pained rasp. ―I won‘t... not going to... hurt you. I promise... ‖
Tess heard the words.
She almost believed them.
Until that split second of terror, when he parted his lips and sank his teeth deep into her flesh.
CHAPTER Four
Blood surged into Dante‘s mouth from the twin punctures in the female‘s neck. He drew from her with deep, urgent pulls, unable to curb the feral part of him that knew only need and desperation. It was life pulsing over his tongue and down his parched throat, silky, cinnamon-sweet, and so very warm. Maybe it was the severity of his need that made her taste so incredible, so indescribably perfect to him. Whatever it was, he didn‘t care. He drank more of her, needing her heat when he was chilled to his marrow.
―Oh, God. No!‖ The woman‘s voice was thready with shock. ―Please! Let me go!‖
She clutched at his shoulders reflexively, fingers digging into his muscles. But the rest of her body was slowly going still in his arms, lulled to a boneless sort of trance by the hypnotic power of Dante‘s bite. She sighed a long gasp of breath, sagging limply as he eased her down onto the floor beneath him and took the nourishment he so badly needed.
There was no pain for her now, not since the initial penetration of his fangs, which would have been sharp but fleeting. The only pain here was Dante‘s own. His body shuddered from the depth of its trauma, his head splitting from a concussion, his torso and limbs laced open in too many places to count.
It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.
You are safe. I promise.
He sent the reassurances into her mind, even as he held her tighter, brought her more firmly into the cage of his arms, his mouth still drawing hard from the wound at her throat.
Despite the ferocity of his thirst, a need amplified by the severity of his injuries, Dante‘s word was good. Beyond the bite that startled her, he would not harm the female.
I’ll take only what I need. Then I’ll be gone, and you will forget all about me.
Already his strength was returning. Torn flesh was mending from the inside out. Bullet and shrapnel wounds were healing over.
Burns cooling.
Pain fading.
He eased up on the female, willing himself to slow, even though the taste of her was beyond enticing. He‘d registered the exotic note of her blood scent on his first draw, but now that his body was rejuvenating, his senses coming back online fully, Dante couldn‘t help but savor the sweetness of his unwilling Host.
And her body.