Page 55 of Bonded Through Bite

A soft smile plays on his lips and he shakes his head. “I need to apologize.”

“What?”

“For frightening you earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Now it’s my turn to cross my arms. “You didn’t,” I lie through gritted teeth.

“I did,” he replies. “When I have you whimpering beneath me, I want it to be from pleasure, not fear.”

“Cocky.”

“Mmh,” he hums. “I’m just trying to decide the best way to apologize.”

Slowly, he starts to strip and I can’t help but stare. First thing to go is his shirt. Then the harness that holds several knives. From his pants, he pulls out several daggers, then he pops the button and quirks a brow at me when I keep staring.

Where the hell was he hiding all those weapons? Did he have them on all this time?

I guess that question is clear on my face because the corner of his mouth lifts.

“Yes, I’m always armed.”

“But why?”

“I’m a hunter.”

“Oo, big, bad, scary monster hunter,” I snark because if I don’t, I’m going to melt into a puddle. He twirls one of the daggers and flips it a couple of times before setting it down on the pile growing on the floor.

“Do you feel the urge to run from me, Samantha? Do I scare you?”

“No.”

“No, you don’t want me to chase you? Or no, I don’t scare you?”

“You don’t scare me.”

That earns me a quick smile and it takes all my concentration not to move closer to him and run my hands down his sculpted abs. The trail of black hair on his stomach pulls my gaze down as he opens his pants and pushes them off. The erection that greets my eyes makes my mouth water and I swallow as my pussy pulses.

Santiago’s nostrils flare. And then he flashes his fangs at me and my pussy is no longer the only thing throbbing.

“Rafael is making the call. He’s going to come up and feed you soon,” he says, still lodged in the doorway.

“Fine, whatever.” I gasp. My nipples are painfully tight, my fangs ache, and my body is wound so tight, I can barely stand.

“Let me take care of your other needs, little fangs.” I expect that he’s being cocky, but when I meet his gaze, he looks earnest. Almost pleading. “I need to take care of you,” he whispers when our eyes lock. “I can smell your arousal. I see the ache in your eyes.”

“Santiago,” I manage barely a whisper from my dry throat.

“Let me care for you, Samantha. The way I’m able to.”

Letting my towel drop, I step back into the shower and he quickly follows. His fingers are cold when they wrap around my waist and his body feels chilled against my back. Shivering, I turn the shower back on and lean my forehead against the shower wall when he starts kissing my shoulders.

“So soft, so smooth,” he murmurs between kisses.

“Please,” I moan quietly as he kisses the butterfly tattoo on my shoulder blade.

“Trust me. Let me show you how sorry I am.”

I nod mutely. His hands roam over my body but avoid any place that yearns for his touch. He’s almost… reverent. Shudders rack me under the water as he finds new sensitive places on my body—inside the arm, a spot over my ribs, the back of my thigh. Everywhere his fingers glide, my body ignites.