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The bastard who had come after them—no doubt one of Grim’s Taken—had known just what he was doing.
He’d struck close to dawn, when the sun would keep them weak. He’d left them trapped. Bleeding.
Not an easy death.
Slow.
Painful.
Grim would want them to die like this.
Sick fuck.
“Not the way for you,” Simon rasped and his fingers trembled as they feathered over Dee’s bloodstained cheek. He took a breath and tried to catch her sweet scent, just once more.
But he only scented blood.
A soft tremble reached his ears. A small vibration. Her heart? Please, it had to be.
He caught the nape of Dee’s neck and managed to tip back her head.
No moan came from her lips. No whisper of life.
Too late.
No, no—he wouldn’t be too late. If she was gone?—
Stay, Dee. Stay.
He wrenched his shoulder but managed to position his wrist over her mouth. He wouldn’t have much longer. He could feel the lick of cold in his own body. Not much longer.
But he’d give her all that he had.
His wrist pushed between her lips. “Bite me.”
She didn’t. Her fangs weren’t out. Her lips didn’t move.
“Bite me!” A snarl of fury. She wouldn’t die while he watched.
Thud.
The slightest press from her teeth.
Dee. Do it, babe. Bite me.
“Live,” he whispered.
Vampire instinct took over. He’d seen it happen before. Seen a vampire on the brink of death. His teeth had shot out and he’d latched onto his food without conscious thought.
Dee’s teeth sank into his flesh. His blood trickled into her mouth.
Take. “Take.” Everything.
Her mouth tightened around him and she began to feed in earnest, greedy gulps as the bloodlust rose.
He would not watch her die.
Her lashes began to flutter.
