“Both.”
“I was twenty-one when I became a vampire; I’m fifty-two now. I’ll be fifty-three July eighth.”
Mollie’s breath sucked in; he wasn’t two thousand, but he was over double her age!
Her grip tightened on her gun as she debated braining him with it and bolting out of here and away from this insanity, or staying here and letting it play out.
In the end, she had no choice; she wouldn’t make it on her own out there. She had no idea what she was up against, but he did, and she would do anything to find Aida.
“And what about you, Mollie? How old are you?” he asked.
The deep baritone of his voice warmed her to the tips of her toes.
“I turned twenty-three on October thirteenth,” she murmured before stifling a yawn.
“You should rest.”
“I can’t.”
How could she possibly sleep next to someone who would drink her blood? But then, maybe he didn’t drink blood. She’d seen the other vamp drinking the blood from the assmunch who shot at her, but maybe Mike was different. He hadn’t tried to suck her dry yet, after all.
“Do you drink blood?” she blurted.
“Yes.”
Mollie huddled closer to the tree and shifted her hold on the gun.
“I won’t drink yours unless you offer it to me,” he murmured when he detected the increased beat of her heart.
“Offer it to you?” Mollie croaked.
“Yes. If you offer me your blood, I will gladly accept.”
Mollie jumped when his finger caressed the side of her neck. She should knock his hand away; instead, she found herself breathlessly questioning what he would do next.
Then his finger stilled on her throat. “I bet you taste better than you smell.”
She hadn’t realized he’d moved so close to her. Other than his finger, no other part of him touched her, but his breath caressed her neck when he spoke. What would it feel like if he did drink her blood? Or what if he kissed her as he almost had earlier? As disgusting as having him drinking from her sounded, her skin tingled at the possibility, and she found herself feeling more alive than she’d ever felt.
“And what do I smell like?” she managed to ask.
“Apples, but not just any apples, you smell like the apples that match your eyes. Granny Smith, I believed they’re called.”
His nearness was making her head spin, or maybe it was spinning because there was nothing in her stomach and she’d been through Hell these past two days. Either way, she needed distance from him. His finger fell away when she turned her head to the side.
Mike buried his disappointment when she shifted away from him. When her stomach grumbled again, he sat back from her. “I’ll get you some food in the morning,” he promised.
“It’s okay; I’m used to going without eating.”
“What do you mean you’reusedto going without eating? Why?” he demanded.
Mollie lowered her head into her hands and rubbed at her forehead. She must be more drained than she realized if she’d said those words aloud. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m tired.”
“You’ll feel better with something to eat.”
“Okay,” she muttered in the hopes he’d drop the topic.
She rested her head against the tree and closed her eyes. Sitting still, the brisk air seeped through her clothes to caress her skin. Back home, it would have been warmer at night, but this far north in Canada the nights were still cool. Then she recalled she had no idea how far north they were or if they were even stillinCanada. With a sigh, Mollie set the rifle beside her and hugged her knees to her chest.
