This felt like rejection of everything they shared.
She had no claim on Scythe; she knew that. But after they’d made love last night, after they’d let each other into their pasts, into each other’s hearts, a part of her belonged to him. A part of her had belonged to him even back in Matera—this lethal assassin with the haunted eyes and the core of honor he didn’t understand that he possessed. A part of her had loved him from the moment he’d given Pietro that carved stone lion.
So now, as badly as he needed nourishment, the thought of him feeding from someone else—male or female—tore something loose inside her.
Whether he understood how viscerally it affected her or if he felt the same way, too, she couldn’t be sure. But Scythe’s expression hardened, his gaze finally breaking contact with hers.
“I don’t want you to be here when the Host arrives,” he murmured, staring at the floor. “Now that it’s morning, it will be best if you leave the villa as soon as possible.”
“No.” At her sharp reply, his head snapped up. She ignored his furious scowl, glaring right back at him. “No, I won’t. This is my home. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Chiara, I don’t need you here—”
“Yes, you do.” She stepped forward, not stopping until she was standing right in front of him. “You do need me here, Scythe. And I’m not going to run away while you try to gain your strength so you can fight a battle that belongs to me. Not after what we shared last night.”
As much as she loathed the thought of him putting his life on the line for her, it terrified her to think that he would do so at anything other than his physical best. Human blood would ease the pain of his hunger and nourish his body, but it wouldn’t heal his wounds. Not fast enough for him to fight.
Anger flared in the dark pools of his eyes. “I’m not asking for your agreement on this.”
“No,” she replied. “And I’m not asking for yours. I’m not leaving you. I won’t let you take a human’s vein when I know that a Breedmate’s blood—my blood—is the only thing that will truly heal you.”
He reared back on his heels, uttering a tight curse. But even as he did, she could see the bright white tips of his fangs already stretching from his gums.
She saw the torment and the want—the thirst—in his anguished face.
As much as he needed the gift she was offering, they both understood what drinking from each other would mean. One taste of her blood on his tongue would bind him to her for as long as they both lived. There would be no other woman for him, Breedmate or human. He would crave only her. And if she drank from him, the same would be true for her. They would be bound eternally. Unbreakably.
“You need to go, Chiara. Damn it, you need to go right now.”
The words were like gravel, jagged and rough, but the look in his eyes... it was pure, desperate desire. There was no hiding his fangs now. They gleamed razor-sharp, filling his mouth.
A grimace twisted his handsome, tormented face. Growling something low under his breath, he turned away from her and went back to preparing his weapons for the battle that would be coming all too soon.
“I won’t go,” she said, resolve taking root inside her. “I won’t leave you. I’m not going to walk away when I’m the only one who can truly help you right now.”
She picked up one of the blades on the table. There was no question as to what she intended to do. Not a shred of doubt or apprehension in her mind.
She sliced the dagger across the soft flesh of her wrist.
Scythe’s hiss was even more pained than hers. He wheeled around as the first scarlet drops swelled from her open vein. His eyes seared her, ablaze with amber light, his face contorted with shock and anguish.
“Damn you, woman.” His low voice didn’t sound like anything from this earth. It was as dark as she’d ever heard it. So deadly it sent a shiver through her bones, into her veins. If she had forgotten how lethal this Gen One Hunter was, his face and voice were stark reminders now.
She had enraged him, possibly even earned his hatred with this impulsive act. But she didn’t tremble. She didn’t shrink away, not even when he stalked toward her, radiating a fury she’d never felt or seen in him before.
She held her bleeding arm out to him, her eyes fixed on his. “Take it, Scythe.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” His scowl deepened along with the otherworldly edge of his voice. “You’ll be trading one unworthy mate for another. I’m no better than Sal.”
“Yes, you are.” She shook her head, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “You are worth ten of him. You’re so much more than that, Scythe. You are the kindest, most honorable man I’ve ever met. I’ll never know a man as noble or courageous as you. I’ll never want anyone more.”