Page 43 of Fangbanger

My arms come around her too, and I rest my chin on her head. “Is this a human thing?”

She laughs. “Surely, you’ve hugged.”

I have, but it was years ago, and something about her hug is different. “I don’t remember a hug feeling like this.”

She pulls back to smile up at me. That twisting sensation sharpens until it feels like my ribs are cracking.

Like this, her mouth is so close to mine, and I want to do another human thing that I have not done in years. Something my blood-givers have offered but I’ve never accepted. It is far more intimate than feeding, especially for one such as I, who has known mostly brutality.

I want to kiss her.

My gaze traces her lips. I know they are soft. I know they felt good against my wrist. How would they feel against my lips, where there are infinitely more nerve endings? My brain conjures fantasies of a blood kiss as her lips part under mine.

I dip my head. Her eyes are hazy. It is impossible to hide lust from a vampire. We are made to scent it, to feed it, to cultivate it. I can tell she wants this too.

“You’ll still need to feed, right?”

I freeze. She reddens, and I tighten my arms before she can pull away.

“On you?” My voice is gravel. She fed me when I was injured, but to offer like this, freely given—I cannot comprehend why she would.

My strongest memories are of deprivation. I have seen the worst that vampirekind has to offer in the intervening years. Very few supernaturals will part with anything that gives them power. Vampires hoard wealth and resources; weres, strength and family; witches, magic.

“Won’t I make you more powerful? Mated vampires are stronger. Even without sealing the bond, surely there are benefits.”

With each word, she rewrites my understanding of the world.

“Yes,” I say hoarsely. “If you’re willing.”

Her face is fully pink now.

“I’m, um, willing.”

She breaks the embrace and steps back. Something hot and needy thrums inside my chest. It’s akin to the feeling I get on a good hunt, but so much better. Sharper, for one.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” I cock my head. My fangs start to lengthen. I let them peek out over my bottom lip.

“Vampire,” she whispers.

“Marcus,” I coax. My blood sings in my veins. This is how it should be between us. Her, pursued, me, doing the hunting.

I roll my shoulders. I feel…unburdened. Cleansed. I told the slayer the worst things about myself, and she is still willing to give herself to me. The predator that I carefully leash clamors to be let out.

“Marcus.” She takes another step back, then darts a glance, as if measuring the distance to the door. “I’m weakened.” She clears her throat. “I should sleep and feed you tomorrow.”

Her gaze skates over my body, then back to my face.

“Go,” I rasp. “Go, Leah. Before I can’t stop myself.”

She runs.

28

LEAH

Iwake to a blaring smoke alarm. I’m half asleep as I jump the railing of the last five stairs and skid into the kitchen, dagger in hand, in just a tank top and underwear.