Page 16 of Her Mated Shifter
Now I can see and hear properly again, and the pain is no more.
On all fours, this little beauty with chocolate-colored hair and freckles on the apples of her cheeks to match has a heartbeat, to be sure. I can hear it.
Practically taste it.
I want to touch those captivating cheeks, but the second I reach out my hand, she falls back with a panicked shriek. “Don’t!” she begs, trying to crabwalk away from me. But the second she puts pressure on her right arm, her body collapses. She breathes through her teeth, sweating and scared as she stares up at me with those wide gray eyes.
My mouth pools with venom at her innate helplessness as I stand over her. It would be so easy to sink my fangs into her wrist and drain her of just a little bit of blood to sate my thirst. She doesn’t look more than twenty-five—a mere ten years younger than I was when I was turned—so she would be the exact sweetness I prefer. I roll my tongue around the inside of my teeth, savoring the flavor I recall from the last time I fed from a person, which was years ago.
I can see her heartbeat in her cheeks, even through the moonlight. How I want to taste her.
But if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to live inside the city limits. The rules are clear and finite: vampires are only allowed to stay if we drink from animals or humans well outside the city.
One little taste, though…
I slap sense into myself by smacking my cheeks a few times, which helps to center me. I kneel beside her, no doubt scaring her more. “I won’t hurt you.” I motion to my left arm. “Some witch placed a tethering charm on me, which led me straight to you. I don’t know why, though.”
She jerks her chin to her right arm. “Same.”
My brows crease. “What are you tethered to? The burning sensation won’t go away until you’re with the thing you’re tethered to. It can’t be me, because I’m here and you still look like you’re in pain.”
“Can’t… think!” she squeaks out.
I don’t know this woman, and I can recognize most everyone in town. I’ve lived in Grayrock City for over hundred years now, and proudly call it my home. I get on my knees, lean in and sniff the crook of her neck, no doubt scaring her tenfold. But I have to know. “Not a human. A witch?” I inhale again, letting my senses guide me to information she can’t find the wherewithal to give. “Not a strong witch. You didn’t cast this. I’m not sure you’re capable. No strong magic that I can sense, but it’s faintly there.”
My words seem to hurt her feelings, because the next bleat is borne of a broken heart as well as the pain that is still wracking her right arm. “Make it stop!”
I sit back on my heels, rubbing my palms off on my black slacks. If my brown leather Venezia Testoni shoes get muddy from this, I swear...
I tilt my head up at the moon, which is only barely visible through the branches above. “This is not the night I was hoping for.” I exhale, looking down on her with pity instead of pure thirst. “That pain in your arm is not going to stop unless you’re near whatever it is you’ve been tied to. I’ve been tethered to you, unfortunately, though I have no idea what sort of sick joke that is. Perhaps I’m supposed to bring you to whatever it is you’re tethered to, since you can’t seem to get there yourself.” I tsk the nature of impulsive magic. “Shortsighted witch who cast this didn’t take into consideration how little magic is in your bones.” I’m saying all the wrong things, I can tell, but that doesn’t make them less true. “I’m going to have to take you to the thing you’re tied to, or you’ll be writhing out here on your own all night long, and I’m not the only thing lurking out here in the night.” I pause, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t lurk. I wasn’t lurking. Not really.”
Her back arches in pain, reminding me that she doesn’t care about that right now; she’s in agony.
I scoop her up—a curvy feather in my arms—and march her toward the heart of the woods, assuming that’s where she is being drawn. But three steps in and she screams so loud, I nearly drop her.
Wrong way. I try another direction before I settle on heading back into town proper. That seems to do it, if her eyes rolling back are any indication.
Sweat is a problem for me. Any sort of physiological reaction that increases scent, really. I bite down on my tongue, so I have something soft to chew on that isn’t her exposed throat. It’s taunting me with its creamy vulnerability.
My cock shouldn’t stiffen, but at least she can’t see the lewd obstruction while she is sprawled out in my arms. I don’t even know her name. “I shouldn’t be the one helping you, you realize,” I say aloud to her. I’m not sure which one of us I am chastising. “You’re a thumping temptation, helpless like this. You know they throw vampires out of Grayrock for attacking anyone with magic in them inside city limits. It’s like someone tethered me to you and purposefully made you vulnerable so I would have an alluring snack waiting for me.” I cluck my tongue at whomever is behind this. “Well, I’m not falling for it. I own the largest home in the vampire side of town, and I’ll not be tricked out of it. I wonder if it was Balmer. He’s always been jealous of my tulips.” I know I sound like an old man, but to be fair, that’s exactly what I am. “But to think that a vampire would stoop to working with a witch to cast this sort of spell is reprehensible. He’s capable of more devious things than just peeing on my petunias, I can see.”
The woman is limp in my arms as I carry her into town. I turn to my right and take a step, but her face contorts to a grimace, so I know I’m going the wrong way. “You’re tethered to something eastward, I gather. Not to worry. I’ll take you to it and you’ll be right as rain. Balmer will see that he’ll have to work a lot harder to get me out of Grayrock than tethering me to a witch.” I swallow hard when my gaze catches on her heartbeat thrumming in her exposed throat. “Though, you are quite the temptation, my dear. Delicious snack you would be, no doubt.”
Why did I say that? My erection isn’t going anywhere without serious intervention unless I can get a grip on myself. The monster in the back of my mind awakens like a serpent slithering through my consciousness.You could always nick her skin with your fang. Give her a little of your venom. Take a drop or two of her blood just to taste her. What’s so harmless about a taste? Besides, if she’s got your venom in her, she would be more than willing to get down on her knees and show her gratitude.
My eyes squinch shut as I beat the serpent back with my years of learning how to stay in control of myself. I go to my tried-and-true tool that usually snaps me out of my predatory tunnel vision. “What is your name, little snack?”
That was the wrong nickname to give her, but it slipped out, and now the serpent is cheering.
“Ivy,” she tells me through gritted teeth. The more I take steps toward the object of her tether, her faintness steels into determination. “You can’t take me there. I can’t go there! Turn around. Please!”
The serpent hisses, throwing his head back at her plea. He loves it when my prey begs.
“I’m Calvin. And you’ll feel better once you’re near whatever it is the witch tethered you to.”
Her chin turns this way and that, but she’s in too much pain still to make much sense.
Back to sending the serpent away.