Chapter 16

After hiding in my room for as long as I can, I finally get the courage to go downstairs when the loud rumbling of my stomach is more uncomfortable than the alternative. The last thing I want to do right now is deal with Tyson.

Even though the blood licking and drinking is a bit different to what I'm used to, I am a wolf and not opposed to a little biting.

Maybe I didn't beg him to drink my blood, but I didn't freak out badly enough to justify him rushing off to wrap his lips around another woman's throat – did I?

Jealousy and the feeling of betrayal burn bright inside me, even as I try to pretend I shouldn't have expected any less from him.

Tyson is a man who does what he wants. Did he stop to consider how I might feel, his mate, that he didn't think I'd be able to have a conversation about what he needed, and make a decision for myself whether I'd be willing to do it?

Hurt and angry, I'm ready for a fight, building up a head of steam as I stomp down the long, dark-panelled corridor and into the elegant dining room. As I round the corner, I brace myself, expecting the wave of emotions ebbing and flowing inside me to become worse when I see his handsome face. Instead, the sight of his hunched shoulders, head in his hands, as he sits at the table waiting for me, stops me in my tracks.

When he looks up, staring unseeing at the wall behind me, his gaunt face, made more striking by the dark shadows under his eyes and skin so pale he's turning translucent, takes the wind out of my sails.

The urge to comfort my mate, to nurse him back to health, takes control, and I'm struggling to feel anything but sympathy. Tyson sits in the same chair as always, posture stiff and his aura confident, but there's a little less spirit shining from within when he drags his eyes to mine.

Tentatively, I move closer, and slide into the chair nearest to him. Silently, he pours me a coffee and pushes some still-steaming toast in my direction.

"Thank you."

He tips his head in acknowledgement, topping up his own cup. I scan the smooth skin of his neck and see no puncture wounds.

Nobody has bitten him, anywhere obvious at least.

"Lucian took care of you?" His features are tight, and his fists lie clenched on the table, one clenching a balled-up napkin. Taking a deep breath, he exhales sharply and looks away, like it's paining him to make small talk.

"He did. Did you have a good night?" My voice is strangled, the green-eyed monster clutching at my throat as I force the words out in a less accusatory tone than I was tempted to use.

Tyson's dull eyes, the crimson ring looking flatter than before, give nothing away. He has me rattled, so I attempt to hide my nerves by smothering my toast in butter and marmalade, nibbling on the corner.

I don't understand. I thought that after a feed, he'd look vibrant, radiating strength and vitality. Not like this. Maybe it's guilt that has him looking so poorly? Good.

"Not exactly," he mutters. "And you?"

Is he joking? Did I have a good night?

Narrowing my eyes, the pain of being left in a strange house, after a very strange evening, while he went out seeking comfort from another woman flares to the surface. My wolf wants to lunge at him – and not in a fun way. I force my shaking hands to pick up my cup, closing my eyes as I take a long, hot drink of liquid patience.

When I open them, Tyson's gaze is on my lips, his nostrils flaring as I lick them clean. Catching him admiring me so openly only makes my anger worse, because I can't figure out what the hell he wants.

"Oh, it was swell," I begin. "It was my first time having my blood licked by a vampire, did you know that? And it was made extra fun by the fact that it was my fated mate." I fan myself, aware I'm acting like a brat, but unable to rein it in. "Stupidly, I thought that maybe you licking my blood was a strange vampy foreplay thing, because it was HOT." I lean forward, cocking my head to one side. "But then imagine my surprise when instead of sticking around to explain any of it, or maybe finish the job, my mate takes his raging hard-on and flees to his girlfriend's house to sink his teeth into her neck instead!"

My cheeks burn with both rage and humiliation as I shove to my feet, letting the chair crash to the ground behind me. I press my hands to my cheeks, hiding my face, needing a moment without his smouldering eyes studying me to compose myself.

"Mandy…"

The sympathy and caring tone to Tyson's voice is too much. Cutting him off, I shake my head.

"No! Don't you dare feel sorry for me. Fuck this shit." I toss my napkin onto the table, knocking over the freshly squeezed orange juice already poured for me and cursing.

Because now I know that none of this is for him.

Everything here is for me. To keep me happy. And it's sweet. But does he really think I'm going to sit here every morning and pretend he's not sneaking around at night, having his needs met by other women?

"She's not my girlfriend," he says quietly.

That's the only bit of what I said that he's focusing on? This man is impossible.

"Well, whatever she is, it doesn't matter. Fuck buddy, friends with benefits…" Aware I'm sounding slightly hysterical, I push away from the table, stumbling over the chair as I turn blindly, rushing to just get away. "Goddamn it."

It shouldn't be this hard.

"Mandy…" Tyson blurs in front of me, but I swat at him when he tries to help me, whipping my head to the side to avoid looking at him. I attempt to dodge past, but he blurs to block my path, once, twice, then a third time.

I stop, teeth clenched and eyes closed, rage coursing through my veins like lava. "Let me go, Tyson."

Still standing in my way, he reaches out to tip my chin up gently, making me look at him in those gorgeous eyes – so, I slam mine shut.

"Mandy, we need to talk about this. You don't understand."

Smug, condescending bastard. I know enough to know that no man who has found his fated mate goes to another woman for anything even remotely sexual. His thumb caresses my cheek.

"Don't touch me! I mean it."

My wolf is beyond irrational at this point, and wielding the primitive urge to bite the hand currently moving down my neck, caressing my skin. I growl, but he ignores me, rubbing his thumb over my carotid in a way that annoyingly makes my legs feel weak.

Did he touch her with those hands? Did he feel her pulse right before he bit her?

"I said, don't touch me."

My knee meets his crown jewels, and Tyson crumples before me.

He rolls onto his side, hands cupping his balls, red-faced and gasping for breath. I lean over him, jabbing a finger in his direction and giving him a hard smack in the chest.

"I understand plenty! Just not why you dragged me here if all you wanted to do was go off and feed from other women! If you choose not to tell me how this all works, or you want to keep getting your blood from Anya, go right ahead! But don't expect me to sit around waiting for you while you bite other women and get off on it!"

Tyson coughs and grunts, clambering to his hands and knees.

"I don't feed from Anya. She sells blood. In a bar."

My brain takes a moment to process that. No biting. No orgasms. Just blood in a glass.

Oh. Oh no.

"Oh, well that's different." Shit. "I'm so sorry!"

As I stoop down, grabbing Tyson under one armpit and attempting to haul him to his feet, a realisation hits me like a ton of bricks. The true reason I'm feeling so upset is that someone else is meeting his needs when he should be able to get what he wants from me. And only me.

"I shouldn't have done that but you should have told me, Tyson. How would you like it if I ran off without telling you what was going on and had my unfulfilled needs met by another male?"

He did leave me high and not so dry. How would he like it if the tables were turned?

Tyson curses as he steadies himself, concentrating on drawing in deep breaths. With one hand on his thigh, fingers splayed wide, he looks up at me from under his dark, messy hair, absolutely furious, and I take a step back.

"You are here because you are my mate. MINE!" His words are low and deadly, as he gets one foot and then the other underneath him, and stands to his full height. "My fucking mate!" he shouts, a vein in his forehead prominent as his blood pressure skyrockets.

Possessiveness shoots across our tenuous bond and nearly knocks me on my ass. Stalking closer, he scans me over, and scents the air, as if checking whether I was in fact out last night with another man. The cheek of him.

"You don't need to sniff me. My unmet needs were ones I could take care of myself." I try to sound bolder than I feel as he takes another step, the gap between us that seemed big a few seconds ago, suddenly eroded to nothing by his long strides. "But you get my point."

I did no such thing, merely crawled into bed feeling sorry for myself, but he didn"t need to know that I was sad and lonely. Better he thinks I was having a great time without him.

Defiant, I stare him down as he prowls closer, lust and jealousy blazing in his eyes as he stares at my hands.

"You thought I cheated on you, mate?" He visibly seethes at the accusation, and I swallow hard, shuffling back as a wall of his emotions hits me, drowning out the guilt I feel for kneeing him in the balls.

"As good as," I mumble, staring transfixed as he takes my right hand gently, hesitating for a second to see if I'm going to hurt him again. Tyson then lifts it to his mouth and sucks my index finger gently and rhythmically, his deft tongue swirling around, tasting for my juices.

"Never, ever, would I do anything to betray you."

He lowers my hand and steps nearer, burying his head in the crook and my neck, inhaling deeply. When he doesn't pick up any other scents, he growls in approval, his wolf needing to prove for himself that I was just winding him up.

"You left me," I spit out weakly, "and went to someone else for what you needed. Something vampires find sexual." My insides twist as I force the words out, unable to disguise the anguish in my voice. I'm angry at him, yes, but, more than that, I'm devastated, in a way that I can't comprehend being about a virtual stranger.

"I did," he admits, nodding as he reaches up and buries his fingers in the back of my hair. "I know now that I shouldn't have. Everything I need is right here."

The rawness is his voice has switched from anger to something huskier, vibrating through me as he massages the tension from the top of my neck and scalp. My body responds, practically melting at his touch.

Tentatively, he touches my chin again when I lower my eyes, torn by the pull of the bond and my lingering anger.

"But I did it because I didn't want to take from you," he whispers. Turning my face up to his, his eyes shine down at me in earnest, begging me to listen to him. "I went to Anya for fresh blood, not hers and not to feed from her. I haven't been able to stomach anything since the moment I caught your scent after all these years. But last night I was desperate, I lost control because my cravings were so strong. What I really needed was you."

His admission has my frazzled brain whirring, trying to work out how long he has been starving.

"Tyson, that's weeks. Months?" Flabbergasted, I reach for him, not able to comprehend how he's even standing when he's been without sustenance for so long. The wan complexion, his sunken eyes, his reaction to the scent of my blood, all make sense.

He's starving.

Tyson doesn't respond to that, or my attempts to pull him toward a chair to sit down, he just stares into my eyes.

"I shouldn't have gone. Please forgive me."

Simple, humble, but his words floor me. I nod, shaking my head and resuming my attempts to get him to sit down. "I just didn't understand what was going on…"

Giving up on trying to move this man-mountain, I go to bring a chair to him. Before I even get two steps away, a strong arm bands around my waist, and I'm lifted backward, deposited on my ass on the antique sideboard.

"Stop fussing." Tyson brushes my hair back from my face and bends so we're eye to eye, his big body positioned right between my legs. "I should have stayed to explain. Please forgive me," he repeats, holding my gaze with an intensity, with a heat in his eyes, that threatens to melt me into a puddle. Slowly, I nod, looking right back into his soul the way he seems to see mine. His shoulders sag with relief.

"Anya runs a blood bar, and there are lots there that partake in blood play, the sexual part, but not me. Ever. My wolf would never allow another woman to sink her teeth into my flesh for pleasure, or vice versa. Only my mate. Only you." His chest rises and falls a little fast, his heart thumping a little harder. "That's why I had to go there. I've been without for so long, and your blood tasted too good… I didn't trust myself to resist."

When his eyes fixate on my neck, on the pulse fluttering under my skin, I'm suddenly aware of how close he is, looming over me, strong hands wrapped around my wrists and pinning my hands to the sideboard.

"Maybe you didn't need to resist. You didn't even hang around to ask," I murmur, staring at his throat as he swallows hard. I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to stop myself leaning forward and licking it.

"Ask?" he repeats, voice so low it's practically dripping with desire. "You might have said yes?"

It's all a bit hazy now, but if I was feeling as turned on as I am right now, I might have. "Maybe."

"Maybe," he repeats in disbelief as his hands slide up my wrists, along my arms, and across my shoulders to cup my neck.

"Tyson?" Wriggling, I test the strength of his grip. It's iron. For some reason, my wolf loves the fact that we can't move as his head dips, ever so slightly, closer to my throat.

"Nothing else will satisfy my thirst now that I know what you taste like," her murmurs. His eyes briefly lift to mine, pinning me in place. "Like heaven."

Fuck. I squirm as need washes over me, and, low in my belly, my core tightens, my pussy quivering with the need to give him whatever he wants.

"You were jealous, little mate. You didn't want me to feed from someone else?" His eyes glow redder, vibrant again as he waits, lip twitching when I stubbornly refuse to acknowledge what we both know is true. Tyson then returns to stare at my lips in fascination. "You called this place home. You called me your mate."

I can't deny any of that, so I remain perfectly still, staring at the side of his face mutinously, right until he drags his nose along the column of my neck, his lips ghosting along my sensitive skin and coming to rest beside my ear.

"Mandy, are you offering me your blood?"

When his lips brush mine, our breaths mingling, and with the scent of him all around me, I lose my head. It's the only explanation for why I find myself saying one word against his lips that I already know if going to get me into a whole lot of trouble:

"Yes."