The Warrior Vampire(101)

“Drink.” Naya had used Ronan’s blood to fortify her magic; now she was going to give him hers to fortify his body against the magic’s dark influence. She gathered her hair up and secured the length with a hair tie. Standard procedure when she was going out on a hunt. Hair could be pulled, snagged easily. She tilted her head to one side to give Ronan unhindered access to her throat. “I need you strong, Ronan.” She refused to let him succumb to this evil force. Wouldn’t let him go without a fight. “Do it.”

* * *

The scent of Naya’s blood was a siren song he couldn’t resist. Her heart beat steadily, filling his ears with the only music he needed to hear. A beautiful sound as its rhythmic thrum pushed the blood through her veins. His need left Ronan shaking, and his fangs throbbed painfully in his gums. When would enough be enough? When would his thirst for her slake? And why had she so quickly become his drug of choice? An addiction he’d never, ever be able to kick. He doubted even Mikhail thirsted for his mate with such dire intensity. It was the magic inside of Ronan that hungered for Naya. For the power inside of her.

In the pit of his gut the cold chill of dark magic ate away at him like a cancer, and malicious thoughts picked at his brain, digging in like a tick. Drink. Drain her.

Ronan seized Naya in his grasp and pulled her roughly to him. He buried his face in her throat and bit down with abrupt force. She cried out, clutched his shirt in her fists. Blood flowed warm and sweet over his tongue and Ronan took gulp after gulp, groaning against her flesh as he drank. Naya went limp in his arms, her own heavy breaths bordering on desperate gasps. “More.”

Gods, when she ordered him like that, her tone forceful yet breathy, he was helpless to do anything but obey. As he sucked, Ronan fought the urge to answer to the darkness inside of him. To drain her. To take everything she had to give. Through their tether, strength flared within him, helping to banish this insanity from his mind. Naya was his strength. His life. And there wasn’t a force on this earth that could convince him to harm her.

He scored his tongue and sealed the punctures, kissed and nuzzled her fragrant throat when he was through. The gods only knew what he and Naya would be facing tonight. The dangers, the sacrifices they might be required to make. “I love you, Naya.” Ronan didn’t know if he’d get the chance to say these words again and he wanted her to hear them and know that they were true. “Gods, I love you.”

It was too soon for words like “love,” but that didn’t make them any less true. Sure, they hadn’t spent enough time together for him to learn the little, inconsequential things like whether she liked chocolate or vanilla ice cream, scary movies or action flicks. Did she prefer to shower or take a bath? And most important, pretzel or peanut butter M&M’S. Because everyone knew that peanut butter were the best. The pretzel ones just didn’t cut it.

Those weren’t the things that determined whether or not you loved someone, though. Ronan knew that Naya was fierce, strong, and protective. Passionate. Smart. Demanding when she needed to be and giving when she wanted to be. She was loyal. Tough. So yeah, Ronan could say without a doubt that he loved her. Those were the things that mattered. They’d have time enough to learn each other’s nuances. Maybe.

Hopefully.

Fuck.

“Do you hear it?” It wasn’t going to do Ronan a gods-damned bit of good to lament his impending death like a sniveling pussy. If these were his last moments, he was going to live them to their fucking fullest. Dark magic be damned.

“It’s faint. The mapinguari has to be pretty deep in the forest. Without Manny, we’d be out here chasing it for hours. Once it catches his scent, so to speak, we’ll be golden.”

“What then?” If Ronan had it his way, he’d kill the fucker. “How do we subdue it?”

“I’m going to bind its power,” Naya said. “And if it works, the mapinguari will be as helpless as a little kitten.”

“If?” Ronan didn’t like ifs.

“It’s going to work.” Naya hopped over a moss-covered log as she headed farther up the trail, and Ronan followed. The scent of the forest enveloped him, so similar to Naya’s natural scent.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because I drank your blood, vampire,” she said in a teasing tone. “Big juju. My magia is strong.”

“You think so?” Ronan wanted to believe it, but fear for her safety, and a nagging doubt, ate through any confidence he might have felt.

“Oh, I know so. Can’t you feel it through the tether? I’m practically vibrating with power. If I’d known vampire blood would supercharge my magic, I would have been out looking for you, not waiting for you to tackle me to the ground in an unconscious heap.”