Page 46 of Bonded Through Bite

Not that I’ve changed into someone else, but like every filter and break and limitation I might have is now gone. Anger. Lust. Those emotions are riding me hard, quickly followed by frustration and neediness. Need for blood. Need for connection.

I’m looking for something, I need something, and I’m not getting it. It—whatever it is—is missing. A part or piece that keeps me off-kilter.

Another crash jostles me out of my thoughts and the bed.

Sneaking out of the door—once again unlocked; at least we are making progress there—I turn toward the sounds coming from downstairs. It sounds almost like… cooking. Pans clattering against surfaces and occasional plates or something like it crashing to the floor.

What the hell?

When I reach the kitchen, I hiss at the state of it. The sounds are not coming from cooking. Rafael is cleaning, and he growls when he sees me. His eyes are almost black and his hair is mussed up. There are a couple of trash bags already filled and the fridge is pretty much empty. He’s been cleaning my mess.

“Where do I take those?” I ask, pointing at the bags, and he growls again. “I need verbal communication. I don’t speak caveman fluently,” I snap when he keeps going on with his rumble.

“You are not taking them anywhere. I am,” he says after a lengthy stare down.

“Ah, don’t start with this crap this early in the morning—evening—whatever it is. I am totally capable of taking out the trash.”

“I don’t want you out of the house. Go to the living room and watch a movie or something. I can take care of things here.”

My fangs elongate as my irritation rises. Being hungry used to make me crappy; now it seems that I’m going to give ‘hangry’ a whole new meaning. I’m on Rafael before he has time to blink. He may have allowed me to jump him, but I choose to believe that I took him by surprise.

“Don’t piss me off, vamp,” I growl. “I’m hungry and I don’t want to spoil my meal with venom again.”

“Do you have the urge to bite me again, sweetheart?” he taunts me. Seems that we are both spoiling for a fight.

“Where’s Santiago?” I ask sweetly. I haven’t smelled him since I woke up.

“Not here.” Rafael’s tone turns clipped and I arch a brow at him.

“Then it seems you’d better behave if you want to keep me fed,” I purr and his eyes flash. That’s the only warning I get before he grabs my neck and tows my mouth to his neck.

I bite on instinct and shudder as his blood covers my tongue. It tastes richer, more laced with power, and I stifle a moan.

Could sipping from Santiago have changed Rafael’s blood this much, this fast? If so, I have to say I hope he does it again. Even while drinking, I can feel the difference his blood has on me now. It feels more… substantial, more filling, and I’m full sooner than I anticipated.

Pulling back, I lick the punctures and they close under my tongue. Hmm, why didn’t Rafael teach me to do that? He shivers and his fingers graze over the bite.

“You closed them,” he says, sounding surprised.

“Yes?”

“Young changelings are not able to close their bites. How did you know how to do it?”

“I didn’t. I just did.”

“You just… right. How do you feel?”

“Pumped. Like I had weeks’ worth of meals packed in one, but not like I overate.” I stop to think for a while and realize I can feel or sense more things. There’s a new kind of alertness and a very faint tug in my core. I concentrate on it and get a lingering scent of lemon-meringue pie.

“Santiago. It’s because you drank from him, isn’t it? I can almost feel him.”

“No, you can’t,” Rafael says sullenly and I focus back on him.

“I can’t? Then why do I kind of smell him inside of me?” It’s a fucking weird feeling, but I don’t know how else to describe it.

“Fuck,” Rafael curses and hits the countertop next to us hard enough for it to crack.

“So I can feel him.” I don’t mean to sound smug, but I do. The undercurrent of anger surfaces and I enjoy the torment clear on Rafael’s face.