The Warrior Vampire(56)

Break free from the Collective. Leave the past where it belongs.

Ronan surfaced from the memories as though breaching an ice-covered lake. Power pulsed within him, an unnatural presence that his body fought to reject. It pooled in his gut and his stomach heaved. A riot of color filled his vision as blinding as midday. Hands, warm and soft, cupped his face and he leaned into the contact. She was the sun. A pinpoint of light in a dark, fathomless universe.

“Naya.”

He gripped her upper arms in an attempt to steady his careening world. The tether that bound them gave a forceful tug and Ronan lurched forward as though it were a physical thing. A blanket of warmth covered him, banishing the bone-deep chill until he no longer felt as though he were freezing from the inside out.

Exhaustion weighed him down and Ronan toppled forward, the hard sand grating against his cheek upon impact. Gods, he could sleep for a year. Just lie there on the beach, not giving a single fuck whether the tide took him out to sea or not.

He was rolled over onto his back and his head came to rest in a nest of soft warmth. Her fingers slipped through his hair, brushing it off his forehead as she murmured words of reassurance. “You’re going to be okay. Just try to relax.”

Relax? Shit. Just call him Jell-O.

One lid cracked and then the other. The blinding colors were gone, thank gods, but from the corner of his eye Ronan caught the shadow of an enormous black cat pacing near the edge of the pier. Looked as though his mate’s boyfriend wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet, which was fine by him, because the second Ronan was back to 100 percent he planned to pick up where they’d left off.

Fucking hell, he was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.

“Here. Drink.”

Naya pressed her wrist to Ronan’s mouth. The cat laid his ears back and issued an angry hiss, but she paid him no mind. Ronan felt as though he’d been run through a meat grinder, but he mustered just enough energy to flash a superior smirk in the male’s direction.

“You. Quit being so smug.” Naya gave Ronan a nudge and he suppressed a grunt of pain. Yup, through the meat grinder.

He crooked his neck back until his gaze met hers. Still a little fuzzy, she appeared to be surrounded by a halo of light. “Gods, how I love a feisty female.” The cat growled and Ronan reached up to take her wrist in his hand. His fangs broke through the skin and an almost imperceptible sigh slipped from Naya’s lips.

The moment wasn’t half as intimate as Ronan would have liked. They had an audience after all, and he never was one to share. He didn’t linger at his mate’s vein. It was a utilitarian feeding meant to restore his strength and nothing else. There would be time to enjoy her body while he drank from her later. Now he needed to be prepared to protect her from not only the threats running rampant through the town but also the one currently staring her down from the shadows.

Ronan sealed the punctures, swirling his tongue over Naya’s flesh. He stole a glance upward to find her eyes heavily lidded, her lips parted. A rich bloom of scent perfumed the air and it stirred Ronan’s lust. Odds were good that he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed his mate’s arousal.

He reached up and cupped her cheek in his palm. “Curb your thoughts, love. If the cat scents you, one of us is bound to kill the other before the night is out.”

Naya quickly averted her gaze, focusing her attention on the jaguar that continued to pace several yards away. “He’ll tell the elders about you,” Naya said. The cat swished his tail back and forth as he returned her stare. “I can’t keep you a secret any longer.”

Ronan’s temper surfaced. “I never asked you to.”

Christ. That she would once again treat him as though he were some shameful thing she needed to hide away. She was his mate. His. Not the male who continued to watch them with his feline eyes.

“I know.”

Sadness accented her features, but Ronan held fast to his anger. He shoved himself upright, his head still so gods-damned heavy it felt like a boulder atop his shoulders. Naya’s gentle care of him no longer gave him comfort. Instead, it made him feel weak. Dependent. A male who thought himself more worthy of her watched as Ronan crumpled like paper at her feet, helpless against the force of magic that sought to overtake him.

“Easy, Ronan. The magic is still—”

“I don’t give a fuck-all about the magic!” Ronan railed. The cat growled from where he stood watching them and Ronan rounded on the beast with bared fangs. “Bring your elders!” he shouted. “She”—he jabbed his finger at Naya—“belongs to me!”

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