Page 65 of Patrick’s Seduction

“My saliva made sure that you didn’t feel my fangs piercing your skin. I drank your blood, not much, just a taste, because I couldn’t resist. You smell so good.”

She still couldn’t believe it. “But there were no puncture marks. I would have seen them.”

“A vampire’s saliva heals small wounds instantly. It doesn’t leave any scars behind either. I’m sorry, I should have asked for your permission, but back then you didn’t know what I was. But I wanted you to feel the pleasure of a vampire’s bite.”

“The pleasure,” she murmured, thinking back at how hard she’d come in his arms, how long her climax had lasted.

“You remember,” he said and smiled at her. “That’s what the bite does. It heightens arousal. Just like it heightened mine when you bit me.”

She felt her cheeks heat and didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that she was blushing like a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl encountering her schoolyard crush. “Oh.”

He chuckled and reached for the bottle of blood. “Now eat your breakfast.”

Patrick set the bottle to his lips and began to drink. She couldn’t turn away and watched him, fascinated. When she caught his gaze connecting with hers, she noticed his eyes starting to change. She’d seen this in him before and had blamed the light, but now she knew that it was his vampire side trying to emerge. Her heart began to beat faster because she could feel sexual energy roll off him in waves.

When the bottle was empty, he set it down on the table and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss into her palm.

He locked eyes with her. “I wish I could make love to you right now, baby. But we have to go.”

32

Fallon sat on the passenger seat of a dark blue Audi. Patrick was driving, and behind him sat Wesley, the witch she’d met the previous night. It was mid-morning, and the traffic over the Golden Gate Bridge was moderate. Following them in a black SUV were three of Patrick’s colleagues, all vampire hybrids: Nicholas, Benjamin, and Cooper. Patrick had explained why they all looked younger than they were: a vampire hybrid stopped aging at age twenty-one.

Her head still swam with all the information Patrick had given her on the subject of vampires. She was grateful for it because it helped her push back the anxiety about where they were heading: into the lion’s den. Or, more accurately, the wolf’s lair.

The closer they got to their destination, the faster her heart raced. As if Patrick knew how she felt, he reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“I won’t leave your side,” he promised.

Moments later, he stopped the car in front of a tall iron gate and rolled down the window. He reached out and hit the button on an intercom system. There was silence for a while, then a crackling in the line.

“Yes?”

“We’re here to speak to William Gallagher,” Patrick said firmly.

He’d told her earlier that William Gallagher was Cameron’s father and most likely the alpha of their pack.

“He’s not expecting anybody.”

“It’s vital that we speak to him. It’s about his son, Cameron.”

There was a long silence, and Fallon wondered if the other person had simply severed the connection when she heard some more static coming from it. It was followed by the same voice.

“Come in.”

The gate in front of them opened slowly, and they drove through it, the second car following them. It was a long, winding driveway, and Fallon guessed that it was about half a mile long. At its end, a massive old brick building rose. It reminded her of the quintessential horror movie mansion. It sported a turret, several dormers, and a couple of gargoyles sitting high above the entrance door as if standing sentry over the building and its residents. She shivered at the sight of it.

Patrick parked the car and switched off the engine. As they got out, she noticed that the three vampire hybrids had parked a few yards away from them and were also getting out. She looked back at the building and noticed the movement of a curtain in front of one of the upper windows, but there was no light behind it, so she couldn’t see who was watching them.

When she heard the opening of the heavy oak entrance door, her gaze was drawn to it. A man appeared at the door, a shotgun in his hands. She recognized the man’s aura: he was a werewolf.

“Vampires,” he snarled. “You should know better than to show up here.”

She noticed him looking at the three hybrids, who were already approaching the entrance. It was clear that the man hadn’t noticed her yet.

With more courage than she thought she had, she stepped forward, drawing his attention to her. “They’re with me.”

His gaze shot to her, and he jerked back visibly. “What the fuck?” he hissed loud enough for everybody to hear.