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“Go out every night, Eddie,” she said flippantly, as if she wasn’t worried. Maybe if she fooled him, she could fool herself, too. “That’s our job, isn’t it?”
Job, ha. If it was a job, she would actually get a paycheck and benefits instead of living off of her uncle’s wealth and the remains of the trust fund her parents’ untimely deaths left her.
He narrowed his gaze, seeing right through her. “Male vamp or female?”
“Huh?”
“The vamp who bit you. Male or female?”
She thought of Adam’s brawn, his stocky, muscular build, his big hands, and the even bigger bulge that tented those glorious sweatpants.
“It was a guy.”
“You finished him, though, right? He got your blood, but you got his head.”
When Tabby didn’t answer him straight away, Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Don’t tell me that you let some parasite get away with your blood. It only takes three exchanges—”
“Eddie. I know—”
“—and you’re a pretty girl, Tab.” Eddie finally tore his attention from the patch on her throat as his worried expression tightened, taking her in from top to bottom. His eyes grew heavy-lidded as he lingered on her chest. “One bite and the bastard’s got a foot in the door, you know that.”
That was rich, coming from the asshole who just shoved his way into her apartment.
“I said I know, didn’t I?”
Every slayer knew the risks. If they were foolish enough to get snagged by a Nightwalker, the biggest worry was whether they planned on draining you completely or only half way; they always attacked a slayer.
After that, there was the whole “being turned” to contend with. In order to change, all it took was a vamp sharing enough of their blood with you before waiting for you to die to see if the turning took; most of the time a draining followed since most Nightwalkers—despite being nearly immortal—weren’t the patient type.
Then, of course, there was the risk of being addicted to the high and the pleasure from the vamp’s dark kiss turning a human from a donor—a willing vein—to a Donor—a notorious blood junkie who would do anything for a fix.
But that wasn’t all and Tabby knew it. Eddie wasn’t kidding when he said that Adam would have one foot in the door. Three blood exchanges: the vamp drinking first, then the human, and finally the vamp again while in the middle of something known as claiming sex… that was how a Nightwalker claimed their betrothed and cemented the bond.
Three quick exchanges and a little nookie and Tabby could be a vampire’s bride.
Yeah, right. No fucking way.
Adam was addicted after one taste.
And he was fucking miserable because of it.
Holy hell, she was a slayer.
Was he insane? While slayers were supposed to be the bogeymen of the paranormal world, he’d heard enough horror stories about the secret society of Para hunters to know that they were real—and, to a Nightwalker like him, really dangerous.
Of course, it was just like him to not only stumble upon one—twice—but to also be so attracted to her that the thought of her attempting to lop off his head only made the one below his belt twitch and start to harden all over gain.
It didn’t get any better after he finally escaped from her apartment.
For the next few nights after that, Adam woke up every dusk, his cock aching and his fangs throbbing. The thirst was the worst. Before Tabitha, he relished the taste of blood fresh from the bag, only relying on the synthetic blood crap from Bloodbucks when he had no choice.
Now?
Even Hudson’s supply tasted like shit.
He thought about asking a donor to share their vein. Now that he fed from someone like the parasite that he was, he figured, what the hell? Might as well go full vamp… only he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
It didn’t take long for him to realize that it wasn’t about taking the blood from the source.
