Page 46 of Fangbanger

“I do fine on my own.” I shove back from the table and head for the sink.

“I know. But you could have one of the werewolves. Or a witch. I saw males watching you at the bar.” He doesn’t sound pleased about it.

I shrug. My shoulders are tight as I start scrubbing at the dish.

“Leah.” His hand closes around my wrist. I jump a foot in the air. Damn sneaky vampire. “I need to do the dishes.”

“Let me do them.”

“Fine.” I wipe my hands and turn. He’s given me a few inches of space, but still he stands too close. He’s far too male. Too much.

I take a deep breath that is shakier than I’d like. “I’m not certain I’ll make it back when I hunt. I can’t be a true partner to anyone. Not to a creature that keeps human hours, and not to anyone who wants kids. Not to anyone who could be killed by a vampire. They’ve followed me home before.”

He smirks and I make a face. “Not you.” My shoulders slump. “I don’t want to leave anyone alone.”

“Like you were left alone?”

My gaze jerks to his. “How did you know?”

He lifts one large shoulder. “I assumed. You seem self-sufficient.”

I nod. “I was alone for a few months before my great-aunt found me.”

“Little one, no.” His words are achingly gentle.

His hands close on my shoulders, run down my arms. He looks like he’s deciding how to react, uncertain, until he pulls me roughly against him. His arms are too tight and he holds me too fiercely.

“Am I doing this right?”

“Better than right,” I mumble. The tension eases out of me slowly. No one has done this for me. No one but Marcus, who should be my enemy.

I can’t get used to this.

What I feel for him is the furthest thing from hatred. It unfurls behind my ribs, tentatively, warm and sweet.

It’s dangerous, this thing inside me.

“Vampire.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you need to feed?”

29

LEAH

“Ifear that I cannot control myself with you.”

Marcus’s words are pained, and something dangerous flickers in his gaze. He is a supernatural creature at war with himself—his clenched jaw and the corded tendon his neck belying the stillness of his posture.

The differences between us have never been more stark, and my skin prickles. I see why so many slayers have been taken in by his kind. His gaze is stormy and his lips are parted. His fangs lengthen over his bottom lip. His skin seems to gleam in the soft kitchen lighting. It looks satin-soft, especially at the hollows of his strong throat and on the flat planes of his stomach. I know his entire being is made to lure me, and still my stomach jumps at how inhumanly attractive he is.

“Leah,” he rasps. “Say something.”

His fist clenches and unclenches. He is undone. For me.

“The bond?”