Page 16 of Crimson Shifter

I wanted to feelwantedagain.

I wanted to feel like I had last night where, for a brief moment in time, I’d held the attention of this annoyingly gorgeous hunter.

“I'm fine,” he said.

“You're not, though,” I said. “I can feel how hungry you are. I didn't realize it was going to be this difficult to get blood to you. We're going to have to figure this out.”

And I didn't just mean the blood, but whatever was crackling between us needed to be sated. Maybe the sexual tension brewing between us could be chalked up to his hunger or perhaps his hatred for me. Either way, I didn't care. I just wanted it taken care of.

Desire flooded my veins, and Talon’s nostrils flared across the bed.

I knew he could scent me. I didn't care. I would not be ashamed for how my body reacted to this male. Something entirely out of my control.

“You need to feed,” I said. “You could feed from me?—”

“I'll find something to eat in the jungle tomorrow,” he cut me off, flipping around so his back was to me.

I glared at him, rejection and vulnerability crashing inside me so intensely I felt ill.

Did he think I offered my blood toeveryone?

I didn't.

I was trying to save the stubborn old asshole, and he’d just thrown it in my face.

I turned my back on him too, gripping my pillow harder than necessary.

Well, fuck him then.

I hoped he starved to death.

CHAPTER 7

Talon

Ihadn’t experienced hunger like this since the time Saint went rogue and we had to quarantine ourselves with him. None of us fed for weeks. Somehow, we didn’t slaughter each other, but we’d come close. Five starving vampires locked in close quarters could chafe even the strongest bonds.

The second time we had to do it, we’d gone into statis, just to be safe.

And now here I was, five hundred years later, starving for an entirely new reason.

My paws pressed against the marble floors of Cassandra’s family estate as we went about our usual routine, which mainly consisted of swallowing loads of criticism and downright insults from her mother.

“Oh, I forgot to mention, the Wrights will be paying us a visit at the end of the week,” her mother said, smiling suggestively over her shoulder at Cassandra without stopping her damned art tour. She’d tested Cassandra on every single piece adorning their grand walls, asking her who the painter was, what style it had been painted in, what century, etcetera.

“Will Archibald be accompanying his family?” Cassandra asked casually enough.

“Of course,” her mother said, keeping true to the condescending tone that she never let up from. Gods, it was annoying. I don’t know how Cassandra made it out of this family sane. “You know about Archibald’s affections for you.”

“I thought you hated the Wrights,” Cassandra said with a little more vigor. “You aren’t trying to make a match, are you?”

“Gods, child, do you think our family has stooped so low as to maritally align ourselves with the Wrights?”

A laugh trilled from Cassandra’s mouth, one I could tell was practiced and crafted to appeal to the uppity sensibilities of nobility. It was fake as shit, but her mother didn’t seem to notice.

I saw right through it. I’d heard herreallaugh the other night, when she’d been blood drunk from whatever herbal concoction her mother had been force-feeding the human they’d drank from.

The memory rushed over me, making my fur bunch over my back and my stomach audibly gurgle.