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“They hurt my babies, Wesley. I hope the guys find them. I want to know why they’d hurt innocent creatures.” Tears filled my eyes at the memory of the little lifeless form lying on my bed, and I brushed them away angrily.
“You can cry, you know,” Wesley offered softly. “I won’t tell West.”
I looked at him and choked out a sound that was half cry and half laugh. “Am I that obvious?”
He smiled and let go of my hand, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “You’re both crazy, stubborn people, but I have no doubt you’ll figure it out. For now, come here.”
I gave in to his urging and leaned against him. The tears began to follow, and in his safe, warm presence, I let them flow for my little companions. My heart ached, and I buried my face into his shoulder, my tears soaking his shirt. He stroked my hair, and a gentle vibration rolled through him. The sound soothed me. It was like a purr, but it was more of a sympathetic sound than general contentment. I wondered briefly how I knew that and felt my lioness stir deep inside me. I could feel her grief too, even though we were one and the same, and her rage. I felt it burn, calling for blood, and suddenly I became very aware that my face was inches away from Wesley’s throat.
I pulled away, rubbing my hands over my eyes. Wesley reached into his pocket and handed me his handkerchief. I took it, wiped my eyes, and then blew my nose and tucked it into my pocket.
“I’ll wash it for you,” I murmured.
He smiled. “I have plenty, don’t worry.”
My eyes drifted down to his mouth, watching the curve of his lips. My lioness still called for blood. She wanted to be strong so she could get out and hunt, and with that hunger came the ever present desire for carnal pleasure.
“Tory, if you need... I mean, if you want to feed...”
My eyes flashed up to his. “Oh, no!” He nodded, dropping his eyes, and I suddenly felt guilty. “I’m so sorry, Wes. I didn’t mean... I’m just still a little confused about all this, about feeding and how it makes me feel...”
He looked back up. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s what you need and what we’re happy to give.”
I glanced down, toying with the end of the drawstring on my sweatpants. “I mean, how feeding makes me... well, in the mood.”
“Oh...”
I looked up and noticed he was blushing harder than I was.
“And you wouldn’t want me... Okay.”
“No.” I grabbed his hand, winding my fingers through his. “I do want you, Wes. I just don’t want you here now. Not like this. I want it to be right, and not just because I’m hungry.”
His eyes brightened as he finally understood what I meant, and he squeezed my hand back. “I want that too,” he murmured, reaching up with his other hand and brushing his fingers down the side of my face. “You can still feed from me if you need to. We’ll just agree to not take it further than that.”
I wanted to decline his offer. I didn’t trust my self-control, but I was so hungry. I nodded. He slipped his arm around my waist, holding me close, and pinned my right arm to my side. He squeezed the fingers of my other hand again, holding them tighter, and tipped his head to the side.
I leaned forward and brushed my lips gently over his skin. He sighed and then sucked his breath in as my fangs descended and pierced his vein. His blood flowed over my tongue and down my throat, the sensation providing a kind of release. He tasted light and cool, like coffee and bookshops and the scent of paper with a slight fizz like champagne at a picnic. Familiar heat swirled through my veins, and I was desperate to press myself against him, to push him down onto the bed and let him fill me as his blood danced through my veins. I fought it, knowing deep down that it had to be something more with Wesley, something special.
I swept my tongue over the wound I’d made, already feeling it start to close, and pulled back. I was breathing heavily, and so was he. His eyes were darker and heavy as he gazed at me with his lips parted. I licked my lips and his gaze dropped to my mouth. He leaned forward to kiss me, but our lips barely touched when someone hammered on the door.
“Tory! Tory! Open up!”
We jumped to our feet, and I looked over at the screens. Jack and Zayn stood outside with a large, limp form hanging between them. My heart stopped. West.
I jabbed in the code and the heavy metal door slid open. Wesley and I spilled out into the hallway. I put my hand on West’s naked chest. His heart beat, but barely, in a slow thump that filled me with panic.
“We need to get him to his room now,” Zayn said.
I shook my head. “It’s downstairs and on the other side of the house. Come this way.” I led them to a guest room a couple of doors down, moving quickly ahead of them into the room and pulling back the covers on the bed so they could hoist him onto the soft white sheets. I swallowed as they laid him down. He was as white as the sheets, with a strange greyish green tone to his skin.
“What happened?” I asked, turning to Jack.
He shook his head, his eyes wide and panicked. “I don’t know. We searched the grounds and went to meet up, but he wasn’t there. We went to find him, and he was out cold, but there’s something wrong...”
“Poison, or more accurately, venom,” Zayn finished grimly, as he leaned over West’s body.
“Like the cats?” Wesley inquired.
