Hot Blooded
resentment to her demise? That regardless of what
she wanted, he'd do everything in his power to keep her alive? He couldn't bring
himself to alter his decision, even knowing it might be wrong. In truth, what he
wanted more than anything was to grab the scruff of her neck and drag her safely
home.
She
was
his pack, he thought stubbornly, just like Emile. Never mind
the
Upyr
Council had not approved his elevation to the rank of leader.
Never mind he didn't entirely approve of it himself. Nature was nature. If it
wasn't a higher law, at the least it was a law that shouldn't be ignored.
He stood abruptly with his resolve, his hands spread across their
as-yet-empty reservation book. He would go to her. It was madness to leave her
alone in her current disheartened state. Now was the time to press his case. She
might have been a vulnerable human before, but tonight she was strong enough to
fight.
As far as he was concerned, that was all the fairness she . would get.
Â
BASTIEN had never been in her home before, though he'd spent a night or two
staring longingly at the windows. Considering his intent, he didn't wait for an
invitation to poke his head into her bright kitchen. Its simplicity surprised
him. Apart from a serious-looking stove, everything in it could have been found
in any aging farmhouse.
He was disconcerted to find her sitting cross-legged on the linoleum with an
array of dishes scattered around her. She looked up at his appearance, then
shoved back her curls and sighed. Seeing how weary she was threw a wrench in his
plans to bully her into his arms. Quite obviously, she wasn't up for that.
He could, however, take comfort in that fact she didn't appear annoyed to see
him.
"I thought you might be thirsty," he said, lifting the bottle that swung in
his hand.
Mariann eyed it suspiciously. "Wine?"
"Better," he said and popped the cork with his thumb.
The blood was dark as he poured it into a clean jelly glass. He had bought
it—like the rest of his stash—from a local blood bank employee, one he'd
thralled into believing he had a strange fetish. Bastien didn't bother feeling
guilty at taking advantage of this convenience. It wasn't always practical to
feed directly from humans. Besides, with what he paid for a single pint, the
bank could purchase three more. Blissfully ignorant of these considerations,
Mariann accepted his offering. She sniffed the drink, grimaced, then downed it
in a single toss. A delicate flush rose to her cheeks.
"Jesus," she said against the back of her wrist. "It's totally disgusting how
good that tastes. I think my mouth just had an orgasm."
He smiled, glad she was comfortable enough to speak that way to him. He
poured himself a glass, this one decorated with a creature named Porky Pig. That
done, he crouched down to refill hers.
"You know," he said, remaining where he was as she took a more moderate sip.
"I could tell you which human food is edible. Save you the trouble of trial and
error."
"Nah." She shook her head. "I'm kind of enjoying figuring it out for myself.
So far I've got watered-down coffee, consommé, pulpless orange juice, and
unsweetened Kool-Aid, weirdly enough. Apparently, anything with milk is totally
repellent. I haven't figured out chocolate yet, but I'm thinking the pure cocoa
liquor without the fat might be doable."
"That could be," he said. "I never met an
upyr
who tried."
"That's because you've never met an
upyr
pastry chef."
Despite her attempt at humor, he heard the fear and bitterness in her tone,
the unspoken implication that
former
pastry chef might be a more
accurate term. With a gentleness he hoped would convey his sympathy, he drew one
knuckle along the side of her down-turned face. Mariann closed her eyes.
"I didn't mention this before," he said, "because it seemed too much to
explain right away, but my line of
upyr
are shape-changers. We need to,
er, form a connection with a real animal before we can do it, but once you take
your wolf soul, you'll be able to eat what you like."
At this her head came up, her wide blue gaze zinging into his. "Take my… ?
You mean,
you're
the wolf who ate from my hand? I should have guessed.
You both have the same green eyes."
Emile would have laughed to know how flattered he was that she noticed.
"That was me," he agreed, trying to hide his pleasure by being businesslike.
"So, conceivably, you could cook in your human form, then change
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