After what seemed like an inordinately long time, but was only a few moments, he lifted his head and stepped away from the other vampire. With a wink at Oriana, he murmured, “My thanks.”
“I hope it gives you some relief.”
He nodded. “I’m sure it will. I feel better already.”
“Then I will take my leave,” Oriana said. “Do not hesitate to call if there’s anything else I can do.” She nodded in Kadie’s direction. “A pleasure to meet you, Kadie Saintcrow.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” Kadie said, again forcing a smile.
Saintcrow threw Kadie a knowing look as Oriana vanished from the room.
“You didn’t tell me she was young and beautiful,” Kadie said.
“Kadie, Kadie, when will you ever learn that you’re the only woman I want, the only one I need?”
“You always saidmyblood was the most satisfying of all,” she murmured, and bit down on her lip. She hadn’t mean to say that out loud.
Damn. He’d hurt her feelings. “Kadie....” He blew out a breath. “There is nothing as powerful, as healing, as the blood of the ancients. But none other is as sweet, as satisfying, or as necessary to me as yours.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“No. I swear it’s true on my love for you. But her bloodisstronger and it’s helping a little,” he said, taking her into his arms. “You wouldn’t begrudge me a little relief, would you?”
“No,” she said, mollified. “As long as that’s the only kind of relief she offers.”
Chapter Ten
Saintcrow had taken to wandering the deserted streets of the town late at night. He’d had no word from Alara, learned nothing new from Izabela, who didn’t seem to be having any luck in contacting Elowynne again.
It had been a few days since Oriana had given him her ancient blood. Most days he felt fairly normal. But there were times when the raging hunger growing within him urged him to bury his fangs in human flesh and drink until he was drunk with it.
It wasn’t a good feeling. But he didn’t try very hard to fight it. He started hunting in the big cities near Morgan Creek every night, sometimes preying on three or four people. He saw the disappointment in Kadie’s eyes when he returned home, the unspoken condemnation, but she never said anything, only continued to love him. And it was her love that made him feel guilty as hell. Even so, he continued to hunt, picturing her sorrow whenever he was tempted to take a life. He was hurting her and he knew it, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop. He needed the blood, craved it like an addict craved a fix.
From time to time Kadie showed up when he was feeding, always with the same three excuses - she needed to feed, too, she thought it would be nice to hunt together for a change, she just happened to be in the neighborhood. But he knew she was there to make sure he didn’t kill some helpless mortal. It angered him even as it endeared her to him.
He swore under his breath the night he sensed Kadie was holed up at Kincaid’s house, Facetiming with Ethan, Micah, Rosa, and Holly, and that their concern for his well-being was the main topic of conversation. What the hell! He slammed his fist against a block wall, shattering it. He didn’t need their pity or their help. He didn’t need anybody. Unleashing a string of epithets, he shut his mind to all of them, including Kadie.
And then he smiled. He could do whatever the hell he wanted now and no one would be the wiser.
~ * ~
The man staggered down the street, obviously drunk. He was a big man, even bigger than Saintcrow’s six feet, two. Muscles bulged beneath the tight tee shirt he wore. The stink of his breath preceded him. He came to an abrupt halt, swaying slightly, when Saintcrow appeared before him.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going, buddy,” the drunk said.
“I am. Watch this,” Saintcrow hissed, and flashed his fangs.
The drunk snickered. “Why you wearin’ them silly fake fangs? It ain’t Halloween.”
“They’re not fake.”
The man snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I can prove it,” Saintcrow said, and let his eyes go red.
With a roar, the drunk lunged forward, his huge right fist connecting with Saintcrow’s jaw.
Saintcrow muttered an oath as he reeled backward, swore again when the drunk pulled a knife, slashing through Saintcrow’s shirt and opening a long gash in his side.