Decker gnashed sharpened teeth, senses honing in as Laurie darted between trees, faster, faster, butnot quite fast enough.
Scuffling a wide path, clutching at bushes to regain his balance, each heaving, sobbing breath battering into Decker’s head, the preacher ran.
Decker became one with the wind, slipping under the furled trees, leaping from the rocks, the scent of blood and fear spurring him on, legs burning. His thirst snarled at him.
Few animals could match the strength and senses of a predator so ancient some cultures considered him a god.
A young man from Boston didn’t stand a chance.
Unsteady rock under him gave way and Laurie fell, a cry wrenching from his chest. Decker lunged.
Decker dragged Laurie kicking and panting against the gnarled trunk of a pine, face wild and streaked with scarlet as he twisted and fought.
A choked sob pulled out of him when Decker shook him, trying to rattle some sense into his pretty head.
“Stop it,” he snapped. “If I wanted you dead, I would’ve done it the first night I met you.”
Laurie went limp. Tears leaked from the edges of his eyes, tracking through the dirt on his cheek. Finally, chin quivering, his eyes flickered open.
“Lookat me,” Decker said more softly.
Laurie looked at him like he was the Devil.
Words formed and died on his lips as if he were clinging to a last hope or trying to find a reasonable explanation for catching a glimpse of scarlet eyes and sharp teeth.
“You have proven yourself,” Decker said, swallowing back the rising hunger, the gnawing urge of the vein in Laurie’s neck.
He should be revolted at his thoughts. He always was. But hungry need flared to life, rattling against his ribs like trapped bats, frantic and desperate and searching.
Laurie’s breath stuttered as Decker’s fingertips loosened in the fabric of his shirt, and Decker slowly leaned forward, his lips hovering over blood-dampened skin in the hollow of his cheek.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Laurie Lane.”
Every suppressed nerve snarled at him to take what he needed tosurvive.He just wanted a taste.God, he would trade eternity for a taste.
The mountain drove him to madness.
Waiting for revulsion to sour his stomach as it always did, Decker’s tongue laved across the bloodied curve of Laurie’s neck, the smallest drop of copper like saffron. Decadent, unattainable.
Laurie’s breathing changed. Fast, rapidfeartrickled away and heady gulps of air pressed them closer.“This…” he shifted in Decker’s arms, head tilting back, words trembling, hushed. “I’m a man of God, this isn’t right.”
Laurie tasted like all he wanted. Decker knew his lips would be the closest to salvation a creature like him could ever deserve.
Drunk on need, he mouthed at the blood gathering in the dip of the other man’s throat like a chalice, teeth grazing over the cords of his neck, hands splayed across his back and twisting in the fabric of his shirt.
Peace.
He was at peace, loathing forgotten in the taste of Laurie on his tongue. The feel of Laurie under his hands, the catch of Laurie’s breath when Decker’s teeth nipped at his neck, bruising, not biting. Not yet.
“Decker.” His name spilled shakily from Laurie’s lips, caught between plea and denial.
Fangs dimpled the blue-black stain bursting across Laurie’s skin.
Decker’s breath lingered.
The weight of what he’d done, what Laurie hadseenand the tremor of his voice, turned the drops of blood on his tongue to ash. Decker flew back.
Laurie sagged against the tree.
