Forbidden Magic by Jennifer Lyon Page A

was on a mission; he needed that blood. There. Behind the door. Ram took one step back and kicked the door right off its hinges.
    Familiar. Why did this feel familiar?
    Focus! Must have witch blood.
    Right in front of him, a witch was chained to a wall, her sweet, powerful blood flowing from multiple cuts. The aroma bloomed thick with power.
    Sweat coated his body, and tremors attacked his nervous system. His body coiled, ready to strike.
    A hand, cool and small, touched his arm.
    He flung it away. His witch blood! He’d hunted it, he —
    “Ram, wake up!”
    He snapped to full consciousness, his heart pounding like he’d sparred with Axel and Sutton at the same time. He bolted up to a sitting position and Ginny’s bedroom came into focus. He’d fallen asleep here, with her. It was dark, Eli was still out, probably wouldn’t be back until morning.
    Looking down, he saw his knife was clutched in his right hand. Oh shit. Not good. Turning his head, he saw Ginny on her knees, her dark hair tumbling around her. The little tank top she had slept in was sliding off her shoulders but drawing tight over her breasts.
    Desire, need for hot pounding sex, blasted through him.
    He recognized that he was deep in the hell of withdrawals from his earlier contact with witch blood, but the pain, the tremors wouldn’t let go. Conflicting cravings crashed through him. He stilled his body, commanding his muscular system to follow his orders.
    Ginny stared at him, her eyes flooded with worry.
    He only had one question. “Did I hurt you?”
    “No.” She looked as though she wanted to get closer to him, touch him, but concern still glittered in her gaze. “Are you all right? You were having a nightmare.” He looked down at the knife he held. A block of ice formed in his stomach. Christ. He could have attacked her. And if he had, she’d be dead.
    He had to get out of there, put distance between him and Ginny. After setting the knife by his holster on the nightstand, he shoved the covers back and started to swing his legs off the bed.
    “Ram?” Ginny caught his hand.
    Sparks exploded between their joined hands.
    She jerked her hand back, looked down.
    Ram followed her gaze and saw several black marks on her skin. Rage blasted through him.
    He’d hurt her. Hurt the woman that had listened to him as he spilled his putrid guts, then took him in her arms and held him. Went to sleep curled up against his chest with total trust.
    She’d trusted him, and he’d paid her back in pain. He was so fucking worthless. Furious, he snapped out, “I have to go.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed.
    “Running away, Ram? Guess you’re as much a coward as Shayla.” He froze on the edge of the bed. He was somewhere between wanting to turn on her and spit out a vile retort and heading straight for the door without a word or a glance. But shit, he couldn’t do either. Her words—her accusation—was making its way down from his eardrums into his very soul. Complicating it all, her sleep-warmed scent flooded his senses. Clutching the edge of the sheet-covered mattress, he said roughly, “I don’t want to hurt you. That’s why I have to go.”
    “You don’t have to do this alone.” Her warm hand settled on his shoulder. “You came to me in my worst moment this morning and gave me hope. No one has ever beaten my father before, but you did.”
    “I didn’t beat him, Ginny. You still suffered.” Each second of her pain was imprinted on his mind. Once again, he lamented that he hadn’t had the ability to take her pain and bear it for her.
    “You were there , Ram,” she told him. “Let me be here for you now. Let me help you.” Help him? Didn’t she get it? “Ginny, look at me. I’m racked with a craving for bloodlust. If a witch walked in this room right now with a bloody nose, I’d lose it and kill her. I was dreaming of killing a witch.” He forced the words out. “And right now, if I touch you,” he said with a grimace,