His head dropped against the wood as he heard the veana speak again.
"Thank you for the food, Brodan, but I'm pretty well stocked."
"Shit, I'm so sorry, Petra."
His voice drew nearer to the bathroom, his footfall heavy. "I don't know how he got away."
"It's not your fault."
"I should've stayed at the clinic, watched him until he woke up. I thought I could go home for a few hours, shower, change clothes-"
Petra interrupted. "Seriously, Brodan. It was impossible to predict."
Yes, seriously, Brodan, Synjon thought with irritation. Give it a rest already, you stupid gatecrashing git.
"I don't like you being here on your own," the doctor said.
"I'm always here by myself. Nothing new, nothing to worry about."
"Not while that thing is on the loose."
Thing. Synjon's upper lip twitched and his fangs started to descend. If anyone in this place is a thing . . .
"The family doesn't want me at the house in case he returns," Petra responded quickly. "This is the perfect hideout. I have everything I need."
"Come home with me, Pets. He'll never follow you there, and if he did I can take care of it."
Bloody hell. Just tell her you want to shag her and let's be done with this.
"I appreciate it," Petra said. "I really do, Brodan. But I'm good here."
"Then I'll stay with you. A little company, a little protection."
A scream of hunger assaulted Syn's gut and he groaned.
Cut that off, Veana. Cut that off now before I have to do it.
"I don't need protection, Brodan," she said with growing seriousness. "I have a ton of work to do. I have all the supplies I need." She lowered her voice, but Syn could still hear her. "This is not how we should have our first outing."
"No," he replied in a husky tone. "It will be outside, near the waterfall." He chuckled. "I have it all planned, you see."
Synjon growled low in his throat. The hunger was starting to make him insane, make him possessive over his food.
"All right, Pets," Brodan continued. "I know better than to push you. But I'm coming back to check on you."
Brilliant, mate. Now, get the hell out.
Synjon picked up on some final departing words, then the welcome sound of the front door closing. He was nearly panting when the bathroom door opened with a flourish.
"I assume you heard everything," she said.
"The chat between you and your boyfriend? Afraid so."
Her cheeks went pink. Or maybe they were flushed before she came into the bathroom. He didn't like it either way.
"Brodan and I aren't mates."
"Yet," Syn finished, nostrils flaring as he took in her scent. "But he wants it pretty damn bad."
She shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps that's a good thing then. After all, he is a well respected male; strong, smart, kind."
"Yes," she agreed, walking toward him, stopping when they were only a few inches apart. "It's an attractive quality in a male."
He grunted. "Pleases and thank yous."
"Never take without asking."
"Sounds like a recipe for a ruddy dull life."
"Not to me."
"Too bad, Petra." He studied her face, her stunning, mysterious, and stubborn face. In another lifetime, he might've gone arse-over-tit for someone like her. She was the kind to make a bloke forget.
But he wasn't in the business of forgetting.
"For our final tutorial," he said, his eyes connecting with hers. "You must know that no true Pureblood vampire male will ever ask you for a kiss. If he wants it, he'll take it."
"Is that right?"
"Indeed. And afterward, it will be you who offers the overly polite, 'thank you.'"
"You're arrogant as shit, you know that?"
"Welcome to your world, Veana."
She stared at him, nostrils flaring. "Well, I don't think I want it."
"No, I'm not."
He cocked his head and stared at her neck. "I see your vein pulsing as I speak, Love. I see your eyes dilating. Your mind may be trying to convince you otherwise, but the desire to submit is written all over your face." He leaned in, nostrils flaring, and sniffed. "And I'm willing to bet if you were stripped bare right now, a male would find that desire displayed in other areas on your person as well."
She looked stunned and livid and shit, aroused. What was he doing? Christ, what the hell was he doing? This was about hunger, not desire. This was about caring for his body, not punishing it.
"Petra . . ." he began, but she cut him off.
Closing the space between them, she practically growled at him. "I may live among Shifters," she said menacingly, her eyes flaring with ire and heat and confusion, "but you are the true animal."
His mind died in that moment, as did his soul. She was near and he was starved. For blood, for heat . . . for the feel of a female's skin . . .
He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Crikey, her body fit his far too well. His breath came out in a rush, and he took her mouth like he wanted to take her blood. Tears behind his eyes, caught in his throat and his chest, he forced every thought out of his head, every memory from his unbeating heart-and every shred of decency he had left, and just kissed her. She tasted sweet and perfect, and her lips were warm and soft. She responded instantly to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and returning his passionate assault as if she too wanted to release some great heaviness of shame and guilt. With a moan of pleasure, he ran his tongue over her top lip, and when she met him with her own wet heat, he felt his cock stir.