Whiteout (Aurora Sky by Nikki Jefford Page A

thrashed and attempted to shove me off, I bit harder.
    Blood filled my mouth. My heart sped up as the coppery zing touched my tongue. I couldn’t swall ow without easing up, but once I did, the blood would be there waiting. Fresh and warm. Vampire blood be damned — I wasn’t a picky drinker.
    Liquid cannibalism. Why not?
    Arlo grabbed my head and tried pushing me away. When that didn’t work, he punched the sid e of my fa ce. Next he pulled my hair. M y eyes watered in pain. Dick move!
    My hold on Arlo loosened, as did my teeth. He broke away and staggered to the edge of the couch, touching his neck where I’d bitten him and pulling away bloody fingers. His eyes wide ned as he stared at his hand.
    I swallowed his blood down.
    The front door flew open, hitting the cabin wall with a bang.
    â€œAbout time you showed up,” Arlo called out without turning around. “This one’s resisting.”
    The poor sucker must have been expecting P ierce. If he’d bothered to turn around, he would have seen Dante storming toward him, a savage look on his face.
    Arlo’s brows furrowed when he got no answer. As he slowly turned , Dante pulled his arm back and let his fist fly.
    Smack!
    Right in the face.
    The vampire didn’t have time to block before Dante punched him a second, third, and fourth time. Arlo crouched and tried to grab Dante’s leg, but Dante slapped him across the face so hard his head twisted sideways. Arlo fell backward and hit the ground with a thump. In an instant, Dante was on top of Arlo—straddling him on the floor and smacking him across the face.
    I watched, transfixed.
    Arlo dipped his head from side to side, attempting to avert the blows. Other than his feeble attempts at avoiding Dante’s f ist, he lay on his back , taking it. I guess he wasn’t used to being on the defensive. Damn predators.
    Eventually, Arlo didn’t even bother moving his head. When I took a closer look, it wasn’t because he was lying back taking it—he was unconscious. Dante ha d beat en him senseless.
    â€œHey,” I said. “He’s out.”
    Dante’s fist froze as he pulled it back, muscles flexing through his flannel shirt. He lowered his arm slowly and relaxed his fist.
    Dante pressed two fingers against Arlo’s neck. “He still has a pulse.” He pulled his hand away and leaned in to look at the bite marks I’d left. Dante’s head turned toward me. “Did you do this?”
    His eyes met mine.
    I ran a tongue over my teeth before answering. “He grabbed me.”
    â€œAnd you bit him?”
    â€œYeah, I did. He bit me first. It’s only fair.”
    Dante held his hand up to quiet me and tilted his head toward the still- open door. The hum of a car engine r umbled down the hallway.
    â€œWe have company,” he said.
    No shit.
    â€œIt’s probably Pierce. Hauled ass from Fairbanks, didn’t he? Thinks he’s in for a sweet treat.” I batted my lashes mockingly.
    â€œI’ll handle him,” Dante said.
    I smiled. “Are you sure? I’ve got a mean bite.”
    Dante shook a finger at me. “No more biting.”
    Yeah? I’d like to bite his finger off for trying to order me around. He wasn’t Melcher. He wasn’t my dad. He couldn’t tell me what to do. What did Dante expect when he insisted on denying me the one thing my body craved most?
    The engine outside died. Moments later, a male voice called out, “Arlo?” from the open doorway.
    The fi gure that moved inside had spiky copper-tinted hair. Light brown stubble covered a strong jaw. He had to be more than six feet tall, and the way his muscles tightened and flexed beneath his T -shirt, he also had to work out.
    Mr. Tall, Toned, and Fatal didn’ t notice me the way I noticed him. He was too busy staring at Dante.
    â€œWho are you?” he asked.
    I recognized Pierce’s voice from our earlier call. He