Blood Mate: The Project Rebellion, Book 2 (23 page)

Was this guy for real? Darce lifted an eyebrow and nodded tersely as he stalked through the door. Quickly. In case Doc Happy started offering sex tips.

He ignored the bed in the room and only registered the door closing because of the metallic click of the lock. He was more focused on getting her into the shower.

“Nearly there, darlin’…I got you,” he promised, walking them both right into the large enclosure. He juggled her in one arm and against a lifted knee so he could trigger the shower, then turned suddenly to take the first blast of water across his bare back in case he’d fucked up and it was cold.

He got lucky. The spray was lukewarm, quickly warming to pleasant. The water driving needles into his skin, he sank to the floor with Toni.

She gasped as the water cascaded over them, her eyes opening to latch onto his. They focused and he winced at the pain in them. He’d kill whoever had done this. He’d hunt them down and rip their guts out through their assholes. Slowly. Rage tightened his hold until she winced, crying out and reaching for him. Instinctively. The way a mate should.

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay,” he promised, wiping the blood from her face. Blood. Steele had said blood. His blood.

Lifting his hand, he punched fangs through his gums and tore into his own wrist. The pain was nothing compared to the possibility of losing her. Blood welled, pouring down his arm to join the water swirling into the drain.

“Drink, darlin’,” he urged, pressing his wrist to her lips.

She murmured in protest, turning her head away. Scarlet smeared her cheek in a dark stain before it washing away in the needle-fine spray. He moved, cradling her head in the crook of his arm, the heavy muscles holding her immobile while he forced his wrist against her mouth.

“Come on, sweets. Drink,” he begged, easily quelling her struggles when she fought to escape him.

Each pained attempt tore at his heart but he held firm. He knew Steele was right. She was a creature of blood and darkness. She needed the stuff for her survival…and he was going to provide it. Whatever she needed,
anything
she needed, he would provide. Even the thought of her going to another man, sinking those delicate little fangs into another guy’s neck, was enough to bring his wolf rushing to the fore, snarling with possessiveness.

She was his. End of. And if those fangs were going in anyone’s neck—

“Ahhhhoooohh.”

She turned her head and struck, forcing a gasp from his lips. It was weak, admittedly, but she still struck. Sank fang into the ripped flesh of his wrist and sucked. Pain flared for a second before immeasurable pleasure flooded his body on a hot tide from his head down to his toes. She shifted in his arms, her hands coming up to wrap around his wrist. Holding it to her lips so she could swallow. Each pull stronger and stronger.

Darce shuddered and leaned back against the tile while she fed from him. Every swallow sent tingles through his heavy frame, the heat in his body coalescing into a tight band around his waist that reached down to encircle his balls before rushing to his cock. He was hard in a heartbeat, stiff enough to fly the stars and stripes from. With an effort he held back. Concentrated on lying passive while she took what she needed from him, despite the fact that all he wanted to do was lay her down and cover her with his body. Part her thighs and sink into her…take them both to heaven and back.

Darce gritted his teeth and slammed his head back against the tiles as her pulls slowed. He shouldn’t be thinking about sex. She was hurt, and he was a pervert.

Her grip gentled on his wrist and her hands fell away. Another hiss of pleasure escaped his lips as she gently detached her fangs, and then swiped her tongue over his skin in a lazy movement that sent another jolt of heat through his groin. He ignored it, his heart stolen anew when she purred in contentment and snuggled deeper into his arms.

She was gorgeous.

Darce sat in the shower. The buzz of blood loss sang through his body but he didn’t care. He had the woman he loved in his lap, drifting off to sleep. Already her color was better, his blood surging through her system and bringing a pink wash on her cheeks. He had no idea what his virus-laden blood would do to her, but already he saw changes. The cut on her lip had been red-raw but as he watched, it went pink, then lighter, until it looked like it had been healing for weeks.

He extended his claws and cut the remains of her top and pants, carefully washing the remnants of blood from her skin. The bruises faded while he worked, and he had to pause just to watch in amazement. He’d always known the Bloods healed quickly, some quicker than Lycans, but this was something else.

And then there was her scent. Even over the shower and the cheap, generic, mass-purchased soap, he could smell it blossoming. Changing. Going from what it had been, alluring as that was, to something deeper and richer. Like her body combined his scent in with hers. Smelling himself on her was the most erotic thing he’d ever scented. Like he’d marked her, owned her and her body had accepted his claim by mimicking his scent.

He left her underwear on and washed her as best he could. He couldn’t remove it and retain his sanity. Not with her finally in his arms and the arousal from her bite still surging through his body.

“Nearly there, doll.”
 

He reached up to snap the water off. The room was warm, fan heaters had kicked in when he’d turned the water on, so she didn’t shiver when he stepped out. To be sure, he grabbed a couple of towels off the rail and wrapped her up in them. The last thing he wanted was for her to catch a chill on the back of whatever injuries she’d already sustained.

She murmured when he lifted her into his arms. Making soothing noises, he carried her through to the waiting bed and laid her gently on its surface. They still had at least eleven hours, so screw Doc Happy—he was going to make sure she slept. Then they would formulate a battle plan.

Because she was getting out of there.

Even if it killed him.

Chapter Sixteen

Blood hit Toni’s starved cells like a bullet. Rich, dark, warm, life-giving blood. It coated her throat and she eagerly latched on, clamping her hands around and drinking from the source. The scarlet ambrosia surged rhythmically. Like a drum. Or a heartbeat.

Caught in the wasteland between life and death, Toni focused on that heartbeat. Strong and powerful, it called to her and she used it like a beacon. Dragging herself toward it, farther and farther out of the clinging quicksand of the true death. The flow of rich fluid stopped, the source removed, and she pouted for a second before she realized she could still hear the heartbeat. It was part of her now. Prowling through her blood with the aggression and protectiveness of a guardian angel as sleep wrapped itself around her and pulled her down into another type of darkness.

The next time she woke, it was by degrees. She was warm and comfortable, but her body ached with the echoes of violence. Memory teased her with snippets. Of being dragged from Fitz’s office by McCoy and his henchmen. There, life had become a fight for survival from one breath to the next while the pack of Bloods took advantage of her drugged state, free with their fists and feet. Just like Brent had been with his words before she’d beaten the snot out of him in the barracks. No claws though, and no teeth. They’d wanted to keep her alive for something. But what?

Her body resisted her push to bring herself back to full consciousness, arguing the point warmth and comfort were good. Nothing hurt. Yet. If she woke up, those echoes would turn into bruises and worse. She’d felt at least three ribs crack during the beating as she tried to keep herself between the Bloods and the unfortunate aide, and her left ankle was at best broken, at worst shattered, which would hurt like a bitch when she woke up.

Still, she couldn’t stay here hiding in sleep like a damn coward. With a groan, she stopped fighting the pull of consciousness and let her mind drag her up a few layers out of the darkness. She tensed every cell, sinew and muscle and waited for the pain to hit like a tidal wave hitting the shore.

Nothing happened.

Her senses expanded and fed her more information of her surroundings. She lay on a comfortable surface, cushioned and springy—a mattress, maybe— covered with something warm and cozy. She sighed in contentment and a sheet rustled, the scent of clean linen surrounding her. A bed then.

But that realization was ignored under another. She wasn’t alone in the bed. A large, warm, male body wrapped around and over hers. A powerful heartbeat echoed the one in her head, the one which had pulled her from the wastelands. Her sense of smell kicking in, she opened her eyes and met warm brown ones ringed with amber.

Foster. Darce. Her Darce.

Relief stole her breath for a moment and she smiled, realizing her comfortable pillow was his arm. “You often watch women while they sleep?”

“Just you, sweetness. You do it so well, I didn’t want to miss a second of the show.”

His voice was low and gruff from his beast but she didn’t care. It hit her low down, sparking off a latent heat in the pit of her belly that then spiraled out through her body, infusing her limbs with warmth and heaviness. She could stay here all day in his arms.

“Am I naked under this sheet?”

“Hmmm, can I plead the fifth?”

She knew from the smell of the room they hadn’t escaped the Project—the anti-bacterial floor cleanser was annoyingly distinctive—and only an idiot would have expected to get away after the going over she’d gotten from McCoy and his gang. She didn’t care. She was alive, he was alive, and they didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger. She’d take that for now.

Sliding her leg along his, she reveled in the feeling of his hair-roughened skin against hers. His nostrils flared at the contact and her smile widened.

“No, I don’t think you can.”

She shifted closer and spread her hand over his broad chest. His human frame was solidly built, powerful even without the strength of the Lycan within. She liked that.

“In fact, soldier, I think you need to fess up, right now. That’s an order.”

His eyes darkened another notch, the ring of amber thicker for a moment before it receded.

“Oh, an order now, is it?”

He’d moved before she registered the movement, stretching out over her lazily. One of his knees slid between hers, gently parting them but he didn’t settle. Just held himself over her.

“So…ma’am. What would you like to know? How I stripped each item of clothing from your luscious body, piece by piece? Or how I carried you naked to the bed? Lowered you between these fine sheets?” He smiled and stroked the hair back from her face, looking down at her. “Or shall I tell you I watched an angel sleep in my arms and kept her safe from harm? How I’d give everything, over and over again…blood and body, my life even, for just one smile from your sweet lips?”

Her heart melted, a little pile of mush right there in the center of her chest. Unable to resist, she reached up and brushed her lips over his. Gasped as electricity arced between them, and she kissed him again.

She pushed the curtains of his hair back from his face and explored his lips. They were warm and firm, with a sensuous curve that just begged her to nibble. She did, taking care to keep her fangs out of the way, and was rewarded with a sharp gasp and a shudder which rolled from his head to his toes.

“Teasing now sweets,” he warned, his voice dropping into a near growl.

At one point the evidence of his other nature would have disgusted her. Now it just turned her on all the more. She wanted to bait him, make him lose control. What was the worst that could happen? He could bite her?

God yes,
please.

The thought of his teeth in her skin sent a wave of heat through her so intense she trembled with it. What was wrong with her? She’d never found biting even the slightest bit sexy, but now all she wanted to do was part her legs and let him sink into her as his teeth found her neck. Held her still while he took her over and over.

Blood and body.
His words hit her with the force of a truck. The memory of her fangs in his wrist, his hot blood gushing down her throat, filled her. He’d fed her. Given her his blood when she needed it. She pulled back to search his eyes, the trust in that act and the amber-ringed orbs rocking her to the core.

Then she shuddered, and smiled.

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

She nipped him again, stroking her tongue over the hurt and was rewarded with a deep shudder that rocked his shoulders.

“Fuck…no. But at zoos, they tell you not to feed the animals for a reason.”

He shoved her thighs wider apart and dropped his hips. Just enough to brush against her. She bit her lip at the feel of his aroused body against hers. Not pressing hard, not brash or overwhelming. Gentle, and not. Forceful, but tempered. In her weakened state he could have forced the issue but she knew he wouldn’t. Knew she’d never been so safe as she was in his arms.

“Perhaps I like teasing the animals…or just one animal,” she whispered against his lips, then kissed him again.

This time there was no teasing. Heat and need flared between them, a potent combination. He groaned when she parted his lips with a sweep of her tongue and drove it inside, seeking his. His taste exploded through her. Feral. Wild. Unique.