Bitten by Ecstasy: 2 (Dark Judgment) by Naima Simone Page A

chiseled from the mountains in the distance.
    “She,” Sinéad cleared her throat, “died?” The thought of him loving someone so much he grieved for her even now set up a dull pounding that resonated in her gut. Like a badass stomachache.
    “No. She’s still alive.” The corner of his mouth curled into a humorless half-smile. “But lost just the same.”
    Oh . Her eyes widened. Oh sweet Lady . No wonder he resented her. “Because of what I did,” she stated flatly.
    Another one of those smiles that wasn’t a smile. “No.” He shook his head. “She killed what was between us all on her own.” He turned away from her. “We should go. Maybe we can catch your sister before she heads out for the night.”
    Sinéad murmured an agreement and strode forward even though her mind whirled with questions regarding his cryptic remark. Bastien fell into step beside her, his footfalls as silent as the night. Did he still love this female? Did he want to find the Cross so he could go back to her? Was she pretty?
    Oh fuck. She was officially human.
    “I can’t believe she lives in a place like this,” he murmured. “I would go nuts.”
    Sinéad nodded. The sameness of the place was eerie. Cookie-cutter houses in perfect rows like huge, uniformed soldiers lined both sides of the street. The cars in the driveways differentiated one home from the next, but the vehicles were the one variance. The scene, though peaceful and the epitome of suburbia, was stifling. Yet she comprehended Cyra’s reasons for settling here. This particular cruxim would find this living arrangement like an all-you-can-eat buffet. The tightly packed neighborhood full of humans—and their emotions—would be like plugging into a constant source of energy…of power.
    “Her house is the last one on the block.” Sinéad frowned as they crossed the street. “We might have already missed her.” While warm lights burned in the windows of the other homes, Cyra’s house remained dark, the glass casements like black, empty eyes staring out at them.
    “We can still go check—” Bastien drew up hard. A rumble, like the ominous harbinger of a storm, emanated from him.
    “Bastien.” His big body quivered. Head lowered, his chin nearly touching his breast and fists clenched at his sides, he was a dangerous predator on the scent of his prey. “Bastien,” she repeated softly, reaching out but halting at the last moment.
    “Give me a…minute,” he rasped, voice muffled, thick. His large frame jerked as if caught in a violent spasm. “Please.” The harsh lash of his breath whipped the air. A shudder passed through him and Sinéad fisted her hand. The need to ease his obvious torment ripped at her natural reserve. She stepped back from him.
    Bastien’s head whipped to the side, pinning her with a stare dancing with flames. The gleaming white tips of pointed fangs pinched his bottom lip.
    “Don’t,” he ordered. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”
    No—she studied his altered features—he wouldn’t. But it wasn’t her blood he lusted after.
    “How long has it been since you last fed?” she asked.
    “A few days ago. I took the last of the vial of blood I bought from the pleasure den.”
    Sinéad nodded. That explained why he’d come looking for her—cruxim blood as well as a cure.
    “Are you going to be okay going in there? Do you need to wait out here?”
    He shook his head. Inhaling deeply, he turned away from her. After a long moment, he straightened his shoulders, stretched his fingers then faced her again. Grooves bracketed his mouth and his skin stretched tight over his cheekbones, but his fangs had receded and, except for a faint reddish glow in their depths, his eyes had returned to normal.
    “I’m fine.” He inclined his head toward the house and the rigid line of his mouth didn’t invite any more questions. Left with little choice but to trust he could control the blood hunger, she approached the home of the cruxim currently guarding