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“Ana, you’re hurt. Let me help you.”
Her fangs broke skin once more. Declan’s scent was much too enticing. She averted her face. “Back off, O’Hara.” She needed to be away from him. Like yesterday.
Ana slid past the sorcerer before he could react and jumped through the window that Ransome had cleared only seconds before. She landed, hard, and yelped as the jarring motion sent pain ripping through her shoulder.
She glanced up and saw Declan’s silhouette. The hunger inside was unbearable. Ana turned and disappeared into the darkness.
She needed to feed, and tonight bagged blood wasn’t gonna cut it.
Chapter 9
It was late, again, and nearing four in the morning when he heard Ana’s footfalls. Declan tempered his anger as he sat in the darkened kitchen of the DeLacrux mansion. He’d been on edge all evening, had patrolled the perimeter of the lot several times. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out there. Watching. Waiting.
His long limbs were tense, which pissed him off. He wanted to appear relaxed, as if he didn’t give a flying fuck that the vampire had blown them off and disappeared for hours. It was hard. His fists were clenched tight, his back ramrod-straight.
The night had been a total bust and it sure as hell hadn’t gone as planned. The necromancer had been of no use. She’d been half dazed from her tussle with the demon and subsequent fall from the balcony. Ransome had agreed to keep her until they could better interrogate her but that probably wouldn’t be until tomorrow.
Nico had finally shown up at the Voodoo Lounge and the news wasn’t good. His priestess had agreed to tap into the darkness and see what she could find out. She’d gone into a trance and come up with only one word. Apocalypse. She’d then gone into convulsions and Nico had barely managed to get the woman to the hospital.
She’d died shortly thereafter.
The jaguar warrior had left but Declan waited for the vampire. For hours. Like a wet-behind-the-ears schoolboy. The bartender Sarah had started passing him free drinks just so he’d get drunk and leave. It hadn’t worked, though eventually he’d given up.
He heard Ana pause just beyond the doorway and then she swept into the kitchen with the assured grace of someone very much in control.
He eyed her in silence as she crossed to the sink and grabbed a sorry-looking excuse of a plant off the windowsill. Carefully she ran some water over it and then set it back in place. She turned around and met his gaze full-on.
Light shone in through the window, a soft glow from the security lamp in the backyard. It left half of her features in shadow but the fullness of her lips beckoned and his body reacted instantly. He felt the familiar ache inside, the one filled with need and want, and wished like hell it would go away.
He bit back the shitload of anger that was buried inside him and instead leaned back in his chair, propping his arms behind his head.
She smelled of rain, and he noticed the damp glitters of drops that glistened amongst the tangled hair that fell over her shoulder. She’d always hated the rain.
“Where’ve you been?” the words fell rapidly off his tongue but he didn’t care.
“I had to feed.” Her answer was simple, honest.
An image of her mouth pressed against some random man’s neck flashed across his mind, and his face tightened in anger. “For the last eight hours? That’s one hell of an appetite. I thought you were into bagged blood these days.”
She shrugged. “It’s not always enough.”
“No, I guess not.” He glared at her.
“Why don’t you spill what’s really on your mind and get on with it.”
“You blew off an important interrogation,” he snapped. Declan’s fuse was burning fast and he kicked the chair back as he rose to his feet. It skidded across the floor and banged into the pantry.
Ana snorted, not backing down as he took a step closer to her. “What? You and LaPierre couldn’t handle that skinny piece of ass? Are you kidding me?”
“You said you would meet us back at the Lounge.” His tone was harsh and he took the last step until he was inches from her. Declan stared down into eyes that shimmered like glass. He saw his reflection deep within their depths. He looked like a man on edge, about to lose it.
Ana hissed and thumped him in the chest. “Give me some space, O’Hara.”
He didn’t budge but continued to glare at her, hating the way she got under his skin. He fucking wished she didn’t smell so damn good, either.
“What is it that you really want to say, Declan? Because I sure as hell don’t think you give a shit one way or another whether I was there to interrogate some bony-ass redhead.”
She didn’t get it.
