The moment he was free, Boaz shoved himself off the bed and put some distance between them, turning his back on him.
“The dreams…” Boaz said as he stared ahead, fists clenched at his sides. “They weren’t dreams. You’ve been coming here, stealing my blood and making me dream… making me…” He trailed off unable to say the rest.
“Yes.”
“Fuck, why?” Boaz screamed. Every part of him burned to spin around and confront him, but he stayed where he was, knowing the moment he met Alexander’s eyes, there was a real chance the vampire would compel him.
“Because I needed it.”
“And you just took it? Without me knowing? You evil fucking bastard.” Boaz turned around without thinking. And only then did he realize how close Alexander was. His eyes burned red.
Boaz swallowed.
Chapter 12
Alexander
“And you,” Alexander said. “Why did you give me your blood?”
“I…” Boaz stepped back instinctively. Alexander moved with him, his fangs sliding free.
“Why?” Alexander pressed. “Why did you give me your blood… and keep giving it to me for over a hundred years?” Boaz’s feet hit uneven ground, but he kept retreating. “You never missed a day,” Alexander continued, stalking him forward. “Never let anyone else do it. You made that choice. You gave me your blood.”
“I—I was trying to help,” Boaz said. “It was the only way to keep you in the coffin. I thought—”
“To enslave me!” Alexander roared.
“No!” Boaz took another step back, panic flickering across his face. But Alexander didn’t stop. He followed until Boaz’s back hit the wall.
“You did this,” Alexander said. “You made me this way.”
Boaz’s breath visibly hitched.
“Until my body adjusts to being awake, I can only drink your blood. Only yours. Do you think I would be here if I had a choice? Do you think I would have done what I did… if I didn’t have to?”
“I…”
Alexander braced his hands on either side of Boaz’s head, cutting off any excuse the werewolf might have come up with. He was done with this, done with the sneaking around.
“You’re going to give me your blood,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “You’re going to let me feed until my body adjusts.”
“You’re not even going to ask me for it?” Boaz asked.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t ask you the first time.”
“I was saving your life,” Boaz gritted out.
“It seems you’re not done yet,” Alexander murmured. His lips brushed against Boaz’s neck, before his fangs sank in. Boaz’s blood flooded his mouth, warm and rich.
Alexander groaned, the sound dragged out of him as his claws dug into the wooden wall beside Boaz, splintering the surface. His entire body trembled. It was always like this. The feedings. It felt like his entire body vibrated, and the world receded leaving only him and the werewolf. He drank deeply, until his hunger dulled.
Slowly, he pulled back, licking over the wound, erasing any trace of what he’d done.
Then he stepped away.
They stood there, facing each other, the space between them thick with tension. Alexander turned to leave, but Boaz’s voice stopped him.
“For how long?” Boaz swallowed hard, the sound loud in the silence. “How long are you going to feed from me?”