Page 22 of Bloodhunter

“I need to tell you the truth about that night,” hecontinued, when I remained silent. “But first, I will tell you this. Servantscannot kill their masters. The harder you try, the more agonizing the pain.That pain can destroy you, Trinity.”

“I will never allow you to be my master.” I was still alittle breathless, but better. “You’re a fucking bloodsucking piece of dead garbage.You are the master of nothing.”

“If you consider yourself nothing.” There was a thread ofanger in his voice.

I was pissing him off.

Good.

Before I could blink, he shoved my head to the side, exposingthe side of my neck, and pressed his fangs against my skin. He didn’t break through,but I felt his need to do so. He was only a heartbeat away from biting me.

I screamed and tried to jerk away, but it was like pushingagainst an iron vise. I could barely move. I imagined him laughing at myweakness, my helplessness, and his derision infuriated me further.

“Stop,” he ordered, sternly, and it took everything Ipossessed not to obey him.

I wanted to obey him.

“I enjoy your spirit,” he told me. “I appreciate yourcourage. The spark inside you is hot enough to burn a man.”

“How would you know?” I stopped struggling, exhausted.“You’re no man.”

His sigh was soft against my skin. “I assure you I am a man.I am not human, but I am a man.”

He rubbed my skin with his lips, a hint of a kiss, andchills raced over my body. I shuddered as my nipples stiffened and heat grewbetween my thighs. He’d sexually excited me with one barely there kiss.

“Let me go.” My voice was a raw murmur, and I was almostunable to get the words out. I was…horrified.

Beyond horrified. I was allowing the vampire I hated, thevampire who’d killed my family, to excite me.

He tightened his grip. “I have something for you, but firstI will explain what has happened to you, and why.”

“Let me go,” I repeated. “I’ll listen.” I had to get awayfrom him before the lust overcame the hate.

He hesitated, but must have believed me, because he openedhis arms.

I scooted away from him, then sprang to my feet and went tostand against the wall, clenching my fists hard enough to bloody my palms. Mylegs trembled as I stood there, and finally, I pushed away from the wall andwent to sit on the couch.

“Talk.” And I felt somewhat more in control when he actuallydid as I demanded.

He stood, then sat in the chair across from me. He crossedhis legs, watching me with a sharp stare, probably waiting for me to bolt.

But I didn’t. He would have caught me and I did not want tobe crushed against that body again.

Then I frowned. My rage was…less.

He was there, not five feet from me, and I was not burstingwith rage. Why not?

Oh, I still hated him. I hated him with every fiber of mybeing. But the rage…it was softer.

Who would I be without my rage?

No one.

Nothing.

Because my rage was all I had.

“What did you do to me?” I whispered, devastated.