Chapter 12

"Are you alright?" I ask, still caging Mandy against the back of the small bathroom but unable to make myself give her space.

Mandy blinks those big brown eyes up at me but stays quiet. Shell-shocked, I think, is probably the right phrase. "Mandy, are you alright?" I repeat, guilt consuming me as she stares at me, wide-eyed and stunned.

"I'm fine, honestly," she lies, her back still to the wall.

Eventually, I force my feet to take a step back and it's like a kick in the gut when she exhales slowly, her relief palpable. Belatedly, I realise I'm still gripping her arm, the one I licked, the one I sucked blood from without asking her. My first taste of her, while indescribably amazing, was not offered freely. My stomach churns and I fight to stay calm, anger at my lack of self-control taking over.

I don't want to scare her again, so I back away. Mandy cautiously watches me retreat. My little mate is uncharacteristically quiet.

"I'm sorry." The raspy words seem so hollow and weak considering what I've just done. Her reluctance to get to know me, the very reason she slept on the floor and barricaded her door, was for fear of the monster I just proved myself to be. I lost control and took it from her. It's unforgivable.

"You were right, Lucian. I need to feed." Torn up with regret, I can't look Mandy in the eye as I leave the bathroom. With my back to her, I halt in the doorway. "As you can see, you're safer with Lucian than with anyone else. I won't be back until morning. You can sleep soundly in your bed tonight."

I ignore my wolf clawing at my insides, telling me to go back and grovel.

Even though my skin sizzles in the bright, direct sunlight, I march straight out the front door and into the woods beyond, needing distance immediately. Since I found Mandy, the idea of taking blood from anyone but my mate makes me want to gag, but I'll do it tonight if it keeps my cravings and my thirst for her at bay.

Lack of sleep and food has me exhausted and on edge. I"m not sure how I thought this was going to be the winning formula for charming my mate and convincing her I'm worth taking the chance.

Hours later, after taking a circuitous route to avoid leading anyone to Mandy, I'm running on empty by the time I get to Anya's. The nondescript black door at the rear of an old red brick building gives no hints as to what lies inside. When I knock, it takes a minute for someone to come, cracking open the door an inch to check out who's appeared well before peak feeding time.

"Long time no see." The tall bear shifter that opens the door doesn't smile, but his lack of scowl is like a welcoming hug compared to the way he greets most people. He doesn't expect an answer so I don't offer one; instead, I slip into the cool, dark corridor while he slams the door shut behind me, blocking out prying eyes and curious passersby. He escorts me down the narrow hall to the cloakroom and twirls his finger in the universal gesture to get on with it.

"I don't carry weapons, Warren. I am the weapon." I say the same thing every time, and every time he rolls his eyes and frisks me anyway.

"Anya's rules," he grunts.

Anya trusts nobody, and she's right not to. It's the reason her establishment has been so successful. Vampires are strong and fast, but far from invincible. If a wolf or bear was to get one in its grasp, the shifter would win nearly every time. When speed and keeping out of reach are your greatest weapons, letting your guard down in an enclosed space can be hard. In a venue like this, with wards to prevent shifting and strict security to prevent stakes being brought inside, vampires can feed and gather in relative peace.

And there's no arguing with Anya. I wouldn't even try. The respected vampire has powerful friends, people no one messes with, and so patrons of her establishment shut-up or put-up.

Pushing through the heavy drapes into the main bar, magic brushes up against my skin, and I feel it swirling around me. The wards do their work, and my wolf whimpers, temporarily caged and uncomfortable with the restriction of his powers. We won't be here for long, and I'm not in the mood for socialising.

As I expected, the bar is quiet this early in the evening. Typically, this place gets going after midnight. I feel conspicuous in the almost empty room, a few heads lifting to check out the new arrival as I pass by.

"I was wondering where you'd disappeared to." Anya sashays over, leaving her dark booth in the corner to greet me. The guest she was entertaining glares at me, not happy about the interruption, but clever enough not to voice his displeasure. This is her business after all, and Anya does as she pleases.

"I've been busy." It's more than possible Anya knows exactly where I've been and what I've been doing. She's everyone's best friend, but best friend to no one. Katya was likely in here feeding her gossip until I tore her head off. Anya probably knows about that, too. At the least, she'll have noticed the loss of one of her regular customers.

"I can tell." Anya takes a delicate sniff and wrinkles her nose in distaste. "You reek of desperation and lust. Is your new little pet not letting you feed often enough?" With a creepy tilt

of her head, her smile fades, and her eyes narrow. "Or maybe not at all."

When I neither confirm nor deny, she links her arm through mine and leads me to the bar. Rows of dark bottles line the mirrored wall behind the counter. A dour looking vampire folds his arms and waits.

"You need a boost. I have a new arrival, full of strength and vitality, something you're in desperate need of." Her sales pitch is unnecessary. I've been coming to Anya for blood since I learned how to control my urges enough to set foot in town, and I've never looked back.

For the most part, vampires seek out others looking to form a feeding relationship that satisfies them both long term. Those outside such arrangements come to places like this to drink and indulge in a controlled, civilised manner. Very few rogue vampires roam the cities attacking and drinking from unsuspecting humans; when they do, they're normally dealt with quickly by scary-looking men like the one waiting for Anya back at her table.

"I've had people asking about you, wondering where you've been."

She says it casually, but she's warning me. Someone noticed my absence, and it bothered them enough to ask her. I don't have friends, which means it's more than likely a bad thing.

When I nod, the barman slides a tall glass of red liquid across the glistening bar, adding the purchase to my tab. Anya waits, smiling encouragingly as I stare at the glass. My stomach is tight, unhappy at the prospect of consuming blood belonging to anyone but my mate. A chill runs down my spine as I feel the weight of eyes on me.

Glancing back at the glass, I frown. It should call to me but there is nothing appealing about the red liquid in front of me.

"If you don't feed, you'll get weak, body and mind, Tyson. Or weaker, I really should say, because you look like a strong breeze would blow you over." She pushes the glass closer to me, her red nails touching the stem of my drink making me irrationally angry. "You'll get to a point where you're not acting like yourself, where your hunger is more powerful than your spirit. And you won't be able to do what you need to do."

The insinuation that I would revert to my wild, dangerous ways makes me bristle. I can't argue with her, because I know that she's speaking the truth. Anya guided me through the initial stages of gaining control of my compulsions, as she has done for countless turned vampires left to their own devices by careless masters. It's good for business to have captive customers who must come to you if they want to avoid their savage desires, but it's also to protect fledgling vampires from themselves.

I won't call her kind-hearted, but she's not the worst.

"You could feed from me if you want blood directly from the vein. Warm blood may be easier to stomach if it's been a while since you had some." Anya's offer is genuine, excitement dancing in her eyes at the prospect. Feeding is a sensual experience, often leading participants to lose control and give in the carnal urges it brings to the surface. Anya has made no secret of the fact she finds me attractive and thinks we'd have fun together.

I've never explained why the sentiment isn't returned.

Tipping my glass at her in thanks, rather than outright rejecting her offer, I knock back the warm, red liquid in one go. It burns my throat as it goes down and sits like bile in the pit of my stomach. She smiles sadly at me, and runs her fingers down my bicep.

"Maybe next time."

Nodding, I stand and make my way to the door quickly, keen to escape. Warren says nothing, just opens the door for me as I hurry out of the comforting darkness into the jarring evening sunlight.

I force myself not to look back as I cross the street and disappear into the shadows, clutching my heaving stomach. As soon as I'm out of earshot, I duck behind a dumpster and throw up the vile blood. It splashes onto the tarmac at my feet while I cough and retch until every last drop is out of my body.

It could have been poisoned. It could just be my body rejecting it. But there's no way after tasting Mandy that I want anyone else's blood in my body.

"Fuck!" Punching the wall in frustration, I wipe a hand across my mouth, eager to get rid of any traces of the blood that tastes like betrayal. My body won't accept anything less than Mandy's delicious life source.

Just one problem: even if my little mate liked letting me have a tiny taste, she doesn't understand what's really involved in a feed between mates, and probably has no intention of acting as my own personal walking, talking blood vending machine.