He needed to focus on getting her out of here.
The cracks in her pale pink lips were dark. Gabriel sniffed the air. Dead man’s blood. That’s why she was barely conscious. The stuff was a potent poison that could render a vampire immobile for hours, and he had no idea how much they’d given her to keep her in this state. No wonder the High Council was concerned. With enough dead man’s blood in her system she could easily be hemorrhaging information to her mortal captors.
He brushed a thumb over her cheek and she gasped at the contact. Her cobalt-blue eyes opened slowly, glassy with pain.
“Gabriel?” her voice was faint, cracking with disbelief.
Gabriel lifted her, slowly, gently, into his arms. She felt fragile, pliable and soft and certainly not able to fend off the hunters who’d been keeping her drugged up and drained of her ichor.
“I’m here to get you out.”
She struggled to lift her hand to touch his face, but it fell back weakly against his chest. “Only a dream— Go ‘way, Gabe.” Her long dark lashes fluttered as she struggled to keep her eyes open. “L-last person want to see now. Go—” She blacked out, slumping against his chest.
He bet he was the last damn person she wanted to see. His jaw tightened. But it didn’t matter. Right now his job was to get her out, to find out if she’d been divulging the secrets of the vampire world to her captors. He’d turn her over to the High Council, the royalty of their world, if she had. After that, she’d never have to see him again.
“Marina. Wake up.”
The top of her head was so close the sweetness of orange blossoms rising from her heated skin swamped his senses, reminding him of how she’d looked the night he’d lost her. The tip of her tongue brushed over her bottom lip, leaving it damp and far too kissable. An unwelcome tension curled low in Gabriel’s belly, making his fangs throb. Damn. After all this time he still couldn’t control his reaction to her.
She moaned and twisted, her grubby lavender button-up shirt gaping as she moved, exposing the top swell of one smooth breast above a ripple of black lace. Beneath his skin his black ichor began to beat faster through his veins. Damn and double damn.
Gabriel closed his eyes and shoved his desire down into the murky recesses where he planned to leave it. He needed to focus on getting her out, on following his orders. This wasn’t about him or her. It couldn’t be. He opened his eyes, this time trying to look at her and the situation objectively.
With this much dead man’s blood in her system she’d be too weak to transport. If they’d had more time he could have waited a few hours for the effect to wear off, but given the malicious gleam in his captors’ eyes, he could tell they planned to come back and tap his veins for vampire ichor sooner rather than later. The guards would find his cell empty and come looking, probably armed with tranquilizer guns filled with dead man’s blood.
Giving her an infusion of his own ichor was the only solution to get her up and moving quickly.
Gabe hesitated. The scent of Niccolo’s mark upon her was faint but still there. His gut rebelled against the idea of feeding her. He didn’t want a bond with her, and sharing ichor was guaranteed to form an attachment with her he’d rather not have to endure. But time was running out.
He growled, pissed off that he had to do this at all. Instead of suppressing the push of his fangs against the soft folds of his gum tissue, Gabriel released them, the telltale flick echoing in the room like a switchblade being released.
He lifted his arm, grazing a line across his wrist. A dark line swelled as ichor rose to the surface. He released his hold on her, laying her back on the cot and pressed the line to her parched lips.
Marina gasped. The slivers of ice in her veins, which had been piercing her with needle-like stings with every movement, slowly began to dissolve at the warm tingling heat that
The cracks in her pale pink lips were dark. Gabriel sniffed the air. Dead man’s blood. That’s why she was barely conscious. The stuff was a potent poison that could render a vampire immobile for hours, and he had no idea how much they’d given her to keep her in this state. No wonder the High Council was concerned. With enough dead man’s blood in her system she could easily be hemorrhaging information to her mortal captors.
He brushed a thumb over her cheek and she gasped at the contact. Her cobalt-blue eyes opened slowly, glassy with pain.
“Gabriel?” her voice was faint, cracking with disbelief.
Gabriel lifted her, slowly, gently, into his arms. She felt fragile, pliable and soft and certainly not able to fend off the hunters who’d been keeping her drugged up and drained of her ichor.
“I’m here to get you out.”
She struggled to lift her hand to touch his face, but it fell back weakly against his chest. “Only a dream— Go ‘way, Gabe.” Her long dark lashes fluttered as she struggled to keep her eyes open. “L-last person want to see now. Go—” She blacked out, slumping against his chest.
He bet he was the last damn person she wanted to see. His jaw tightened. But it didn’t matter. Right now his job was to get her out, to find out if she’d been divulging the secrets of the vampire world to her captors. He’d turn her over to the High Council, the royalty of their world, if she had. After that, she’d never have to see him again.
“Marina. Wake up.”
The top of her head was so close the sweetness of orange blossoms rising from her heated skin swamped his senses, reminding him of how she’d looked the night he’d lost her. The tip of her tongue brushed over her bottom lip, leaving it damp and far too kissable. An unwelcome tension curled low in Gabriel’s belly, making his fangs throb. Damn. After all this time he still couldn’t control his reaction to her.
She moaned and twisted, her grubby lavender button-up shirt gaping as she moved, exposing the top swell of one smooth breast above a ripple of black lace. Beneath his skin his black ichor began to beat faster through his veins. Damn and double damn.
Gabriel closed his eyes and shoved his desire down into the murky recesses where he planned to leave it. He needed to focus on getting her out, on following his orders. This wasn’t about him or her. It couldn’t be. He opened his eyes, this time trying to look at her and the situation objectively.
With this much dead man’s blood in her system she’d be too weak to transport. If they’d had more time he could have waited a few hours for the effect to wear off, but given the malicious gleam in his captors’ eyes, he could tell they planned to come back and tap his veins for vampire ichor sooner rather than later. The guards would find his cell empty and come looking, probably armed with tranquilizer guns filled with dead man’s blood.
Giving her an infusion of his own ichor was the only solution to get her up and moving quickly.
Gabe hesitated. The scent of Niccolo’s mark upon her was faint but still there. His gut rebelled against the idea of feeding her. He didn’t want a bond with her, and sharing ichor was guaranteed to form an attachment with her he’d rather not have to endure. But time was running out.
He growled, pissed off that he had to do this at all. Instead of suppressing the push of his fangs against the soft folds of his gum tissue, Gabriel released them, the telltale flick echoing in the room like a switchblade being released.
He lifted his arm, grazing a line across his wrist. A dark line swelled as ichor rose to the surface. He released his hold on her, laying her back on the cot and pressed the line to her parched lips.
Marina gasped. The slivers of ice in her veins, which had been piercing her with needle-like stings with every movement, slowly began to dissolve at the warm tingling heat that
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