She placed her wrist over his mouth.
She heard him groan.
She saw his fangs and felt him clutch at her wrist holding her fast.
Maybe it was the force of his touch or that she could feel those sharp fangs penetrate her skin, but she somehow wrested herself from the powerful hold of the vision. She held both hands up as though warding something or someone off.
Slowly, the club came back into view, still silent.
Ethan stood in front of her, just a few feet away, but he was blurred as though the strange vision had affected her eyesight. She breathed in heavy gulps and dizziness threatened to pull her to her knees.
She heard Ethan saying something like ‘back off’ or ‘get back’, she wasn’t sure. Even her hearing needed to catch up with the present.
She blinked several times and finally he came into focus. Her heart once more thudded and she found it hard to breathe. He was the one she wanted, had always wanted, would desire until the day she died.
A vampire.
Ethan.
Mastyr Ethan.
The remnants of the vision drifted away. A calmness came over her. He held her gaze steadily, looking both worried and angry, almost outraged as though she’d done something wrong.
But what had she done? What the hell had just happened to her? What was it she’d seen? Was this something that would soon happen and if it was, what responsibility did she have in this situation?
Her chest ached and she planted a fist against her sternum and rubbed. In the vision, he’d called her ‘a blood rose’. What did that mean and was this why her heart beat so hard in her chest? Ethan’s gaze fell to that fist and he shook his head back and forth as though he couldn’t help himself.
My God, did the vampire actually expect her to donate? Was that what it meant to be a blood rose? Well, if it did, he’d be waiting a really long time.
“I need to go home.” She pressed her lips into a resolute line making sure he understood her intention, despite the fact that something so outrageous had just happened.
His lips parted and he swallowed hard. He dipped his chin and looked away from her. “Yes. You should definitely leave and it would be best if you didn’t come back.”
“Wait, I don’t intend to return, but why would you say that?”
He lowered his chin. “Because I won’t be responsible for what happens to you next time.”
Her temper flared. “You weren’t responsible this time, Mastyr Ethan. I can take care of myself.”
His gaze shifted back to her and an odd light flitted through his eye, something close to respect. “Fine. Then come back as often as you like.”
“I will.”
He glanced around, his hard gaze landing on one male vampire after another. He watched as each faded into the crowd, never again looking at her yet at the same time avoiding Ethan’s glare.
She wasn’t sure, but she sensed a wave of possessiveness flow in her direction from Ethan, as though in some realm-like way, he’d staked his claim on her, warning other vampires to keep their distance.
In one sense, that wasn’t a bad idea since vampires gave her the creeps in the first place. But in another sense, the same possessiveness clung to her like a velvet cloak, and against all instinct, she wanted more.
If he glared, she returned his expression in full, which made her think that he didn’t like the situation any more than she did.
She said nothing more, but turned and headed back through the crowd, toward the entrance. Time to head home.
But had she actually had some kind of vision, a foreshadowing of the future? How the hell was that possible?
*** *** ***
Ethan watched the woman move in the pathway that led through the crowd all the way to the front door. She held her head high, but he sensed the depth of her confusion. She didn’t know what she was and no doubt she’d never had a vision before.
He’d wanted to detain her, to talk to her, even to offer some sort of reassurance that she wasn’t out of her mind, but some instinct held him back, a serious warning that the woman was trouble on all fronts.
Sweet Goddess, a blood rose in Shreveport.
Despite knowing that none of the realm-folk would return to their fun until he’d given permission, all he seemed capable of doing was watching her walk out of the building.
Then, with the disappearance of his blood rose, his current need for blood roared back to life and he listed on his feet. Nausea swept over him and he gasped. A female vampire came up to him, one of his doneuses, thank the Goddess.
“Mastyr?” she asked quietly.
He nodded and took her by the elbow.
She knew the drill. She stepped up on his left foot, with her left foot, slid her arm around his neck, and the crowd made an even bigger pathway.
He flew her swiftly from the building rising higher into the air to breach the cars in the parking lot.
As he did, he felt a call on him, down and to the left. As he flew forward, he glanced into the dark parking lot below, and as his vampire vision warmed, he saw Samantha turn and look up at him, her eyes wide with astonishment. Maybe she didn’t frequent the prave so she probably hadn’t seen a vampire in flight before, or maybe not flying quite this high.
At the same time, his personal frequency vibrated and her thoughts were suddenly in his mind. That should be me. I should be feeding Ethan. Oh, what the hell am I thinking? What’s wrong with me?
So, she was capable of pathing, of telepathic communication. She probably didn’t know that either, but it was one more indication the woman had fae blood.
He shut down the accompanying flow of frustration and disbelief. His power was ebbing and thank the Goddess that the tree-line wasn’t far away.
As soon as he reached the first row of pines, he descended swiftly, the woman hopped off his booted foot, pulled her hair to the side and he was on her, his fangs nipping quickly, setting the blood to flowing. As he sucked down what was so necessary to him, but which he knew would barely satisfy his needs, his thoughts turned to Samantha, and he sucked harder, groaning against the woman’s neck.
After a minute, however, of being lost in the dream of drinking from Samantha, he realized his doneuse was pushing against him.
He drew back appalled to see tears in her eyes. “Anita, I’m so sorry.”
“It was just…rough. Mastyr, are you all right?”
Shit, because he’d been thinking about the blood rose, he’d gotten carried away. “Who the hell cares if I’m all right? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She rubbed her neck and as his vision warmed again, he saw the bruising.