Page 43 of Night Fall
It was Erik.
She’d found him.
FIFTEEN
Mya did her best to carry Erik through the woods. More rogue vampires had appeared, so she’d been forced to deal with them first before attending to Erik. He’d fallen unconscious after the sixth man she killed. By the twentieth, his breath had become labored. It shouldn’t have been possible. Erik was a vampire, an elder vampire at that, and one of the strongest men she’d ever known, but now he was dying on her back.
She wanted to check his wounds, to give him her blood, but she couldn’t until she’d made sure they were safe. For that, she had to disguise their tracks. By the time she’d gotten him on her back, four more SUVs of rogue vampires had appeared. Mya could take them all, but each second she spent fighting them was another Erik spent bleeding out, and she would not risk him, ever.
She purposefully dragged her steps, letting the weight of him fall into her to make sure the outlines of her shoes were more pronounced. Together they reached the river. Its current was strong, and while she didn’t want the added risk, she knew they needed to cross it to help disguise their scent, so she waded through. She bent brush and discarded leaves, doing anything she could to throw them off the trail, but every moment they spent there was a delay. Erik was still unconscious, his blood coating her clothes, and she knew she had to finish this quickly. He didn’t have much time left.
Mya found the entrance to a cave, breathing a small sigh of relief. It would serve as the perfect distraction for the vampires she was sure were tracking her, and where there was one cave entrance, there was always another. Hoisting Erik further up her back, Mya leaped onto the side of the mountain, then onto a tree. She traveled through the air until she spotted an opening that would work perfectly for them.
Slipping inside the cave, Mya traveled down the passageway until she reached a large stream of water. She hoped she’d gone deep enough. When she was sure that the cave was empty, she laid Erik down and truly looked at him.
He was nothing like the man she once knew.
His blonde hair had grown long, reaching down his back. Lengths of it were missing, as if it had been caught on something and torn. His face was ashen, his skin paler than she ever remembered it and covered in a layer of soot and blood. She ripped open his shirt to see his wounds and gasped at the deep cuts she found. Her fingers traveled over his chest, and she noted how malnourished he was. It was clear he’d been through hell, and as overjoyed as she was to finally have him in her arms, she was just as angry at his captors for what they’d done to him and at herself for not finding him sooner.
Erik didn’t deserve this, but she would fix it. She’d fix it all.
Mya cut into her hand, letting the blade slide up her arm. She needed more blood than usual to cover as many of his wounds as possible at the same time. She held her healing magic back to stop it from sealing her own wound, then lined up her arm with three of the large gashes on his body and let the blood flow. Into it she pushed every ounce of her healing magic.
The wounds began to heal, but it was slower than usual. Too slow. Something must have been wrong with his blood, and because of how much he’d lost Mya couldn’t heal both it and his wounds fast enough for him to survive.
There was only one other option; the one thing he had always told her not to do, because, as she now knew, it would trigger their mate bond.
She cut a line down her neck, bent over him, and lifted his lips to the spot. “Drink, please,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me now that I’ve found you.”
“Don’t leave me now that I’ve found you.”
When was the last time Erik had heard words spoken to him with such anguish, with such worry and concern for him? The body pressed against his was warm. Her breasts were soft, like feathered pillows that he wanted to bury his head into, and the smell of her was divine, something of juniper, wildflowers, vanilla, and berries. He wanted to taste her, and that desire was so strong he began to salivate. He swallowed the drool, and then he tasted her blood in his mouth, her essence, and it felt as though the whole world had suddenly sharpened and turned vividly brilliant.
More of her blood slipped into his mouth, and he groaned at the taste.
“Drink, my love,” she whispered, her voice like a caress that spread over his skin, chasing away the dark, the cold.
He couldn’t deny her. Her throat vibrated against his lips, and he growled. His fangs lengthened and he bit down on her neck. His taste buds exploded as he drank from her, slurped more of her down. He couldn’t tear himself away. Each gulp made him feel stronger, more powerful. He was captivated by her, enchanted, drunk on her essence and he needed more.
For the first time in centuries, he desired something. Someone. He wanted her etched into the very fabric of his being. He wanted her to coat the inside of his every cell, and he wanted to fuck her while she did it.
He had been held captive, tortured in unimaginable ways and cursed the moment he broke free of his cage. Erik thought freedom was all he wanted, that it was the best he could ever have, but something had always been missing, and now he knew what it was.
Her.
Never had he felt so alive until this moment, so desperate for his craving, so fulfilled by every second that passed by. Never had his heart beaten so fiercely, as if it had found its reason for holding on, and it was all because of her. His partner, his soul, his other half, his mate.
He needed to grab her, to hold her close, to roll on top of her and take her. He needed to fill her, to stop the aching desperation that was drowning him, and while he didn’t know her, he knew that with absolute certainty, just as he knew she needed it too.
She’d found a way to muffle herself, but he’d heard the soft moans that left her lips when he sucked at her skin, and he felt the way her nipples hardened against his chest. He could feel his hands and arms again. He tested, lifting them, and was pleased when they moved so he could wrap his arms around her.
He pressed his body against hers, and she gasped at the contact. His hands inched up her back, until they became tangled in her leather jacket. He growled in frustration and tore it off her, laying it on the ground. Erik wanted nothing between them and shred the offending material as he rolled her onto her back and climbed on top of her.
He ran his hands over her soft skin, felt the goosebumps as he traced down her neck to her breasts. Erik squeezed them in his hands, rolled his thumbs over her nipples. He heard the sharp intake of her breath, and pleasure ran through him. He wanted to take his time with her, to feel her, stroke her, hear her breathless, melodic cries, but he also wanted to devour her, absorb her, to become one with her.
Erik knew he wasn’t worthy of her for so many reasons. But he couldn’t stop. He ached for her. He wasn’t just hungry for her blood or her taste; he hungered for the warmth in her that staved away the emptiness in him, and he would do anything to have it, take everything she had to give, and give all of himself in return.
Her hands roamed his back, pulling him closer as she widened her legs—legs that he fit so perfectly in between. He pressed against her pussy, groaning at the barrier of his pants. She heard him, felt that frustration, and lowered her hand to the band. She fumbled with the closure, and he helped her, sending the button flying somewhere against a wall. Carefully, together, they lowered the zipper.
