She’s part witch. Maybe I am under her spell.

Under, and falling fast.

“One taste,” he told her, “but you’re going to regret it.”

Her gaze searched his. “There are few things I regret.”

He could believe that.

“This won’t be one of them.” Then she turned, head high, back straight, and marched to the door at the far end of the hall.

He didn’t follow her. He didn’t want to see her with Sean. “You’ll be coming back,” Jamie said, the words drifting after her.

And they were a promise. Iona was about to realize that no other man would ever do for her again.

Only me, baby. Only me.

He’d already realized that no other woman would satisfy him.

Chapter Four

Her fangs had stretched and sharpened as she prepared for the bite. Iona had locked the door behind her—locked Jamie out—and now she and Sean were alone together in the small storage room.

“So…how does this work?” He asked her with a nervous glance at her fangs.

She almost rolled her eyes. Really? How did he think it was going to work? “The usual way. I bite you. I drink. That’s how it works.”

Sean was nearly as big as Jamie. His shoulders weren’t quite as broad, his muscles not as big. He was probably a few inches shorter than the alpha wolf, too.

But Sean was…handsome. His features were even and smooth and had no doubt drawn plenty of female attention over the years.

Iona realized that she preferred the rough danger of Jamie’s hard face. Story of her very, very long life. The bad boys often drew her in.

Then, frequently, they’d tried to kill her.

So she’d had to kill them.

“Give me your hand,” Iona ordered.

But Sean shook his head and shoved his hands behind his back. “No way. I’m not supposed to touch you!”

For the love of…She grabbed his arm and jerked up his hand. Then she lifted his wrist to her mouth. “Calm down.” She could probably try to soothe him. She’d always been good at lulling her prey, when she wanted. Seduce with a look. Kill with a bite.

Been there, done that.

So many times that it rather bored her now.

But, yes, if she wanted, Iona could seduce just about anyone.

Only she didn’t want to seduce Sean. She just wanted to find out what his blood would do to her. Don’t burn me, don’t. Because if she was stuck with only taking from Jamie, then she’d be tied to him.

Forever.

Iona parted her lips. Her fangs pressed into Sean’s skin, and just like that, with one quick press of her teeth, his blood flowed onto her tongue.

Sean gave a little moan. “Oh, shit, no one said it would feel good.” For the first time, she heard the whisper of an Irish accent in his words.

Only…his blood wasn’t “feeling good” to her. It felt horrible. His blood tasted rancid, and she was already yanking her mouth away from him and backing up even as her body started to shake and spasm.

“Iona?” Sean called her name as he came toward her. “Iona!”

The door burst in, heaving right off its hinges. Jamie stood in the doorway. His gaze swept around the room, from Sean—and his outstretched hand—to Iona.

When did I curl up on the floor?

She didn’t curl. She didn’t hide.

I do when I realize my choices are gone.

Because Sean’s blood tasted just like the human’s, and instead of strengthening her, it had made her feel even weaker.

Now the hunger was ripping through her insides. Hollowing her out.

“I told you not to touch her,” Jamie tossed Sean back against the wall. “I told you.”

It wasn’t the touching that mattered. It was the blood. Blood she couldn’t drink.

“Iona?” Now Jamie was the one calling her name.

She forced her head to lift. Made her body rise. She was still shaking, but those trembles couldn’t be helped because they came from the hunger and the weakness that filled her veins.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. So many would laugh to see her brought so low.

Jamie wasn’t laughing. He was staring at her with eyes that saw far too much. “Get out of here,” he said.

Her lips parted.

“Yank the door back up after you, Sean, and get the hell out,” he said, never looking away from her.

Sean hurried to comply.

Jamie didn’t touch her. Didn’t move another inch. Not until the door was partially up, giving them a bit of privacy, and Sean was gone.

“It didn’t work,” he said flatly.

Of course, he’d known the truth. Maybe she had, too. She’d just been desperate.

“It makes you sick, doesn’t it?” He asked. “When you take blood from others.”

Yes. A vampire who could only bite one man? Talk about falling far from her perch of power. She wasn’t exactly the big terror of the town any longer.

The faint lines deepened near Jamie’s mouth. “I want you to bite me. Take my blood…I don’t care. I can give you what you want, always.”

He didn’t understand. But right then, she just didn’t have the energy or the control to make him understand.

Fifteen years. For all intents, she’d been dead then. Even if her mind had been crying out in agony.

Now that she was free, Iona wanted to live.

She was about to break apart because she just wanted to let go—to lose her control and take the blood that he offered.

But with vampires, when control broke and blood was involved…

There was a reason she’d been trying to push her vampire coven away from taking blood from live sources. She’d seen the carnage that came from centuries of bloodlust and violence.

When you took straight from a source, when your control shattered, the lust wouldn’t just be for blood.

“Blood and sex,” she whispered.

Jamie’s gaze burned into hers. There was no fear or revulsion or even a hint of hesitation in his eyes. There were just answering hunger. “Yes.”

He knew what he was getting with her. No secrets there. And she needed to feel alive again. She’d gone too long in that cold darkness. There would be no holding back for her. More blood.

She reached for him. Sank her teeth into his throat.

His blood was perfect on her tongue. Delicious. Addictive. Like a mix of wine and chocolate.

His body brushed against hers.

Pleasure. Close. So very, very close.

Her nipples were tight. Her sex already growing moist. Iona’s control was fracturing. She could feel the ripples as they shook through her body.

His hands locked around her wrists. “Don’t worry,” he told her, the words rumbling against her as her tongue licked lightly at his throat. “I’ve got you.”

Maybe he did.

They were about to find out.

In the next instant, he’d lifted her up. Took two fast steps, and then her back shoved against the wall.

“When you bite me,” his words were a dark rumble that had her sex clenching, “I want to fuck.”

Not an unusual reaction. The bite did something to prey. Gave them a boost of pleasure. Made them want more.

The vampire could usually control the bite, especially a vampire as old as she was. Could give pleasure or pain.

Her fangs scored lightly over his flesh. He growled. With this bite, she wanted to give pleasure.

His fingers were on her stomach now, under her shirt. His hands were warm and strong and they were sliding up, up, and cupping her breasts. Her breath hissed out as her nipples pebbled beneath his touch. She arched against him, wanting more.

His blood had already made her stronger. So now she wasn’t just drinking from him. She was kissing. Licking. Learning what the werewolf liked.

“My turn,” he muttered as he lifted her even higher. Strong wolf.

Then he yanked away her top and put his mouth on her breast. He used his teeth to lightly rasp over her sensitive flesh. Her sex ached. So long…

Iona wrapped her legs around him even as he kissed and sucked her breast. She pushed her hips against him. He was aroused. No mistaking that hard bulge that shoved back against her.

Pity his jeans were in the way.

Not for long.

This time, she was the one to jerk open his jeans. To pull the zipper down and slid her fingers past the denim. She found him, long, thick, hot, pushing eagerly toward her.

Her tongue slid over the edge of her left fang. She’d had his blood. Now she just wanted him.

His rough breaths filled her ears. Then she heard the sound of a frantic heartbeat. His? Hers? Maybe both. Racing too fast.

“Jamie.” Her demand. “Now.” She didn’t want foreplay that lasted for hours. That could come another time. Right then, she was already clawing at his back. Pushing against him as her control shattered around her. She wanted him inside of her.

Wanted the pleasure to erupt and sweep everything else away.

Then his hands were between their bodies. He had her jeans open, and she had to lower her legs, just long enough to kick out of her heels and jeans. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, so she didn’t have to worry about—

“Fuck.” His hand was between her legs. Pushing into her sex and her head tipped back because she liked the sensation of his fingers sliding in her. Her body was humming, so tuned up that she knew the first climax would hit her soon.

His thumb pushed over her clit.

The climax hit.

She grabbed for his broad shoulders as the release blasted through her. Even as her sex contracted, he was there. Not with those long, broad fingers anymore, but with the heavy length of his cock. Driving into her. Plunging deep.

His neck was inches from her mouth. She had to taste him again. Bloodlust, physical lust, they blurred in her mind and her control fell to the ground. There was no thought. Only need. Hunger that couldn’t be satisfied.

He pushed into her, not easy or gentle, and she wanted him that way. His hands were around her hips, forcing her into the air so that he supported her body and he drove into her, again and again with thrusts that stole her breath and made her body shudder.

She clenched her sex around him, squeezing tight.

“Iona…so good…”

She’d show him better than good. She let the bite linger, knowing it would bring more pleasure.

Pleasure. It was what they both wanted. Craved.

He pulled her away from the wall. Wrapped his arms around her so that he held her fully. And his hips still pumped into her. Wolves…so powerful.

Another climax hit her, and this one had her crying out as she lifted her mouth from his flesh. Her breath was choked and the pleasure…it was so intense that it almost hurt.

Her whole body was electrified with feeling. So sensitive that every move of his flesh against hers had Iona tensing.

Then he shoved boxes off a table top. Put her down over it. Her legs dangled in the air.

“We aren’t done,” Jamie promised, his voice so dark and deep.

She wanted to smile. Couldn’t. He’d taken her legs. Hooked them over his shoulders so that she was wide open to him. He took her now, hard and wild, and it was exactly what she wanted. The rush of sensation just wouldn’t stop.

Iona didn’t care that his claws were out. That they’d slashed across the top of the table. She didn’t care that his eyes glowed or that his cheeks had hollowed, signaling the presence of his beast.

She liked the wildness. Wanted it.

His head lifted. She saw the flash of his fangs. Fangs that were even sharper than her own.

Blood and sex—that wasn’t just a combination that worked for vampires.

She turned her head to the side, offering herself to him. Only fair…she’d had her turn.

He took the spot where her neck curved into her shoulder. His lips closed over the flesh. His teeth pressed lightly into her. It didn’t feel like he was drinking from her though.

It felt as if he were…claiming her.

Then he stiffened against her. The hot splash of his release filled her and sent more waves of pleasure pulsing through Iona’s body. Pleasure, life, lust…she wanted it all.

This wasn’t sleep. Wasn’t death. Wasn’t whatever the hell had happened to her because of Latham.

Jamie’s body was pressed to hers. Flesh to flesh. He was the man who’d brought her from that nightmare. Who’d freed her. The man who’d just given her the best orgasm—or three—that she could remember having in this century.

His scent was on her. Her scent was on him. She’d marked him. He’d marked her.

Her lips began to curl. How perfect.

Werewolves were always so territorial. So driven by emotions and needs. By rage. By possessiveness.

Sometimes, their strengths could be weaknesses. Weaknesses that she could use in her battle.

Her frantic heartbeat began to slow down.

She stared up at the cracked ceiling above her, and her hands were still locked around Jamie. When she went to Latham, she’d be carrying Jamie’s scent on her. Revenge, step one.

Not yours, Latham. Never that. Despite what Latham had done to her, she’d escaped. She wasn’t the prisoner in his little trap any longer. Not his plaything for eternity. She was free.

And she’d just fucked his enemy.

Payback was coming for Latham, and it had just started…

Wait until I bring my nightmare to your door. She’d make Latham scream, plead, then…die.

“Are the stories true?”

Iona didn’t glance away from the night sky when Jamie asked the question. She had her back to him. Her legs were drawn up, her arms curled around her knees, and she gazed up at the stars lighting the sky.

When he’d finally been able to speak—and move—again, he’d gotten her out of that back room. Out of the bar and to a safe place. A safe place that had a good bed and fresh clothing for them both. And more comfortable shoes for her. She’d smiled when he’d given her the shoes. He liked her smile. He liked having sex with her a hell of a lot more.