Prince of Power by Elisabeth Staab Page A

Isabel could feel his anger was as clear as the nose on her face. She held his gaze with an unwavering stare. If they tried to make this a contest, they’d be here all night. Thad growled and spun on his heel. “I have the Council meeting.”
    â€œThad.” He’d just reached the door when the soft warmth of Isabel’s body pressed against his back. Her arms wrapped around his. They breathed together like that, totally in sync, until Thad’s muscles unwound again. “It isn’t you against everyone. I’m trying to help.”
    He turned over his shoulder to kiss her. “I know,” he said.

Chapter 10
    Tyra’s fangs sank into her flesh. Pain shot from her wrist to her elbow, and disbelief at the sight of her own blood stunned her for longer than it should have. The heavy, slow thuds of her own heart echoed loudly in the quiet of her bedroom.
    Ouch . She’d never bitten into her own vein, and she wasn’t holding on to another body to ground herself, so her fangs didn’t hit their mark cleanly.
    Anton mumbled incoherently but didn’t exactly answer her. Not that she’d expected him to. He’d been barely there for most of the day, aside from occasional restless flailing and a more recent bout of shivers. The shivering was somewhat contradictory, given that he was sweating so profusely that he’d dampened her nicest thousand-thread-count sheets and his forehead was hot to the touch.
    Thanks to her hesitation, fat drops of blood hit her silk duvet before she managed to position the flow over Anton’s mouth. Between this and the living room, her house was starting to look like some kind of war zone.
    â€œOkay, Anton.” Her fingers brushed lightly over his lips to pull his mouth open. Her index finger had a jagged nail, and she didn’t want to scratch him. Silly as that was. The doctor had given him a sedative, but he was moving more. Hopefully that meant he’d be able to drink on his own. “You helped me, so it’s time I return the favor.”
    While the blood drizzled in, Tyra looked out through the cracked window blinds. The sun would be going down soon. Just before dawn, she’d forcibly removed Siddoh from the house and moved Anton to the bed so he could rest more comfortably.
    Despite her assurances that she’d call when Anton was awake, she was dead-certain that someone would return at dusk and it wouldn’t be pretty. But Anton’s condition had worsened over the day, and the doctor had bluntly stated that he didn’t know a thing about how to treat a wizard medically. Why would he, after all? They’d never cared about healing one before.
    Tyra was short on time as well as options.
    â€œCome on, Anton. Work with me here.” Her fingers slid over his throat in the hope that would encourage the first swallow. He coughed and sputtered. Jeez, don’t kill him, Ty. The wet sounds of his throat working were far more satisfying than they should have been.
    Along with the hot, tight seal of his mouth against her arm came a slushy, cold sensation of fear. It pushed along her arm and spread through her body like a moving glacier. She’d never experienced anything quite like that from anybody before. But then there was another hard gulp. And another.
    Her relief was immense and dizzying. Anton groaned in his half sleep and swallowed again, tipping his head unconsciously and sliding his tongue on her skin for better suction. His breath deepened audibly, and his bare chest rose and fell with the effort. Something deep and primitive and fiery stirred inside Tyra. Something she’d never experienced before.
    She knelt there by the bed, her breath coming in shallow pants while her free hand gripped a fistful of duvet. “Oh hell.”
    Sometimes the blood exchange was sensual, sure. But this… a rush of desire chased Anton’s panic, melting the icy slush as it flowed from his body into hers and