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My eyes widened and the anger flared at his thinly veiled accusation, my skin heating with a burning sensation. “If I wanted you dead, you would be,” I snapped and looked out at the passing scenery.
He laughed, and sent a raised eyebrow in my direction. I could almost hear the response, but he never voiced the words. The look was enough.
“I know how to hunt,” I mumbled under my breath, thinking how nice it would be to have my twelve-gauge right about now. I’d pump a round into his pompous ass.
When he pulled into the garage, he turned to me.
“Wait here,” he said and grabbed the clothing from the trunk, disappearing with the pile and coming back a few minutes later with the leather jacket I wore last night along with his black trench coat. He tossed the leather jacket to me and waited while I slipped it over my shoulders.
“It’s time to learn to be a shadow,” he said in a low growl, stepping from the dark corner flashing a mouthful of sharp fangs and his bright blue eyes were shrouded in blackness.
I took a step back and before I realized it, my skin had broken out in a full rash of gooseflesh. The persona he wore scared me as much as it had last night and I had to remind myself he couldn’t hurt me. Not now that I was just like him, but it still didn’t alleviate the majority of the unease racking my bones.
He took a predatory step toward me and tilted his head. “You should be nervous,” he snarled.
His voice promised pain and I took another step back, swallowing the lump of fear blocking my throat. “Cut it out, Damian.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I failed, and the shakes came through loud enough for him to chuckle.
Even his chuckle resounded with pure evil. I turned and ran.
He stalked me through the maze of cars, catching me as I made a run for the door. Instead of tearing my throat open with his teeth, he stopped when the sharp points grazed my skin. With his hand still holding a fistful of my hair, he pulled away, meeting my frightened gaze with a quizzical one of his own.
“Naomi,” he started and sniffed me, “I suggest you start defending yourself, otherwise I am going to drain every drop of your sweet blood.” He clacked his teeth together and let out a vicious purr.
This was the fiend that attacked me last night. Not the sweet and sexy man I spent the day with and a fury I couldn’t control welled up. With a growl, I shoved him away from me and shock gripped me as he flew across the garage, into the cement column between two of the doors.
He was slow to get up and the persona fell back to Damian the man instead of the shadow monster. He ran his hand over the back of his head and brought the blood-covered appendage into view before his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped.
I caught him before he hit the ground, my heart pounded in my chest and my mouth ran dry. A different type of fear took hold and I laid his injured head in my lap, tapping his cheeks and whispering his name. He didn’t respond and I could feel the rising panic.
“Please wake up, Damian,” I said. “Please, please wake up!” I glanced toward the ceiling praying silently for him to wake, for him not to die and leave me here without a clue of how to get into his sanctuary and the imminent sunrise.
Without thinking, I ripped my wrist open, placing the flowing wound over his mouth. At first, nothing happened, and a sob escaped my chest. Finally, his throat constricted, swallowing, and his hand grabbed the outside of my wrist, clamping it to his mouth, sucking the blood in one hard pull that burned through my veins.
I tried to break his grasp but he was just too strong and my sob turned to a frightened gasp.
His eyelids fluttered open and his gaze met mine before widening. He let go of my wrist, licking his lips and blinking in confusion as I covered the wound with my hand.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” I whispered.
Damian slowly sat up and leaned against the wall, staring at me.
“I could have killed you, Naomi,” he said, his voice raspy and unsteady.
I narrowed my eyes and hopped to my feet unsure of where my fury was coming from. “Wasn’t that your intent with this little game?” I waved at the interior of the garage.
“No,” he said and felt the back of his head again.
His tone diffused me completely and when his gaze returned to mine, I couldn’t help taking a step toward him.
“You never offer your open wrist to a wounded vampire.” He pushed himself to his feet and took an unsteady step toward the door.
“Why not?”
“Because when we’re wounded, we usually don’t have the sense to stop.”
“But you...” I started, thinking about how he offered himself up to me more than once last night.
“Yes, and you could have killed me, but you seem to have a very strong sense of self-discipline,” he stumbled out into the night.
I followed, letting his words sink in as well as all the ramifications of what he had done since he sank his fangs into my skin struck me silent.
“I need to eat,” he whispered and headed toward the wood line.
“Is that what I’ll turn into?” I asked pointing back toward the garage as I caught up with him.
He offered a tired smile. “Honestly, I have no idea what you’ll turn into. The fangs are supposed to come out as a defense mechanism, but yours didn’t.”
“They came out on the roof last night and I think they made an appearance during the day, didn’t they?” I asked.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said and stopped as we stepped into the forest.
“So...”
“Shush.” He closed his eyes and sniffed the air. A slow smile spread on his lips. “I’ll be right back,” he said and sprinted. Within three paces, magnificent wings pounded the air and he soared into the treetops, leaving me alone and acutely aware of the silence surrounding me.