“Let’s go, then.”
We’re driven out to a small park I know is still inside vampire territory. In Afsaneh’s district, if I’m not mistaken, since she’s taken over Njáll’s as well. The driver leaves when Njáll tells her to and I follow him into the park, both of us easily climbing over the low gate.
“Here?” I ask, glancing around. The park is larger than I first thought on the pavement, but I doubt we are in for a long chase.
Njáll frowns. “I didn’t consider how fast you’d be,” he says.
“Should make it more difficult for you to catch me,” I reply with a grin. “If that’s what you want?”
His eyes faintly glow, and he must be starving for that sudden shift in mood. “Yes.”
“Good.” I take a couple of steps back, never letting my smile falter. “Catch me then, crai.”
I turn on my heel and run. I need to get a sense of the park first, but I hear Njáll close on my heels, surprisingly quick despite his bulk. I dart around trees, passing a couple of benches before I reach the fence on the other side.
There really is not much room to run here at all, but we can make do.
Njáll almost catches me a couple of times before I work out how quickly I need to move to keep slightly ahead. His frustrated growl makes it all worth it, and I grin at the sound, my heart thumping against my ribs.
There is something to this that I like. I do not feel hunted in precisely the way I expected to, and that has me turning on my heel, rushing past Njáll almost playfully.
When I was turned, there was a chase much like this. Much like this in that a vampire was chasing me with the intent to dig his fangs in. Otherwise, the scenarios could not be more different. I did not want to be there that night. I was betrayed by his sudden insistence on making me his. My magic had utterly failed me, and I was certain I would never taste it again.
Here? Now? Magic fizzes through my body as though sensing the excitement in the air—mine and Njáll’s both—and when I carelessly wave a hand, a tree obligingly lifts its roots, sending Njáll sprawling to the ground.
I laugh wildly and he growls again. This time it’s edged with danger, the kind of sound that makes my mouth run dry.
If I told him I wished to stop now, would he? I believe so. He is hungry—his eyes still glow when I glance over my shoulder—but not starving.
Even if he were, would he control that?
Of course the purpose of this is, ultimately, for Njáll to catch me, so I slow a little once I feel his temper is reaching its limit. Not that he needs much help. He catches me around the middle, bringing me to the ground, and I let out a surprised gasp at the feel of his body against my own.
“Are you—Are you all right?” His concerned tone is at odds with the almost possessive way his fingers dig into my skin. His breath is hot against my throat. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back a whimper.
“Fine,” I force out after a moment. I arch my neck, exposing one side to him. “Njáll…”
His breath hitches, though I do not know why. He noses along my throat, still pinning me, and though I could push him back and get away, I remain where I am. My breath feels as though it is coming faster now than it was when we were running.
“I won’t take too much,” he says, and then his teeth scrape over my skin, and my eyes flutter shut, and he bites down.
The pain is negligible. Njáll groans, though, when he tastes my blood, and that sound has me going boneless beneath him. He drinks carelessly at first as though surprised at the taste and every pull has me shaking, biting my lower lip to keep myself silent.
I have been bitten before, though long before I became a member of the Hunt. During sex and out of it.
It has never once felt like this.
All too soon, Njáll tugs his fangs free, licking over the marks he’s left behind. He’s shaking, just a little, and when he rolls to the side, I push up onto my forearms to get a better look at him.
He stares back at me. His pupils are blown wide, and his cheeks are ruddy. The spot he’s bitten throbs—though I must be imagining it—and Njáll’s lips part, his mouth soft and ready.
He lunges a second before I expect him to, and my reflexes are not fast enough to stop him. I growl when he pins me, pushing away a sudden flash of desire when he settles his body over my own.
Njáll pushes his face against my throat. He’s not going to bite me again, I think. No. He breathes in deeply, like a wolf might, one hand digging in just below my ribs.
“Maurice,” he says, and the sound of my name would make me breathless, but I hear the way he slurs the word. “Maurice, we could—Please.”
“No.” The word is short and sharp, as it should be. Even if Njáll were in his right mind, this would be a mistake.
