Running his tongue over a razor-sharp tooth, he reminded himself how his prior laments had been a drop in the bucket. Not just upside down now, but any hope of a future was now pulverized and hung out to dry.
Reaching across the car and resting her hand on his thigh, Adair gave a gentle squeeze. The radiant heat of her touch soothed the gnawing ache, her silent way of telling him she understood. Afraid to move, lest she get scared and stop touching him, he shifted his gaze and watched her expression. Whatever he’d been through, her heavy blue eyes, the weariness in her gaze… she was suffering too.
Neither spoke the rest of the drive. She pulled into the hangar where the others had already opened up the jet. Belly stirring as the hunger returned, Bennett let out a controlled exhale and suppressed the craving.
Bennett dropped into the copilot seat and let Astrid take charge while he leaned back and closed his eyes. Like the horny pubescent-teenager-walking-erection he’d been so many years ago, he was obsessed. Not with sex this time–although, Adair’s proximity was contributing to his unpredictable mood–but his imagination ran wild as he craved a drink of savory, coppery, soothing ninety-eight-six… Sweat beaded along his brow as he fought the image. He was so fucked.
Astrid gave him a sad smile. Tying her pin-straight blond hair out of the way, she nodded toward the door, “You look terrible. I’ve got this, go get some rest.”
Not up to arguing, he dragged himself out of the cockpit. Bodie brushed past him to join his wife up front.
Leaned forward in one of the cabin seats, Ryan scrunched his hand in his hair and dialed. Bennett overheard as he connected with his captain, explaining the emergency that would delay him at least a few days, likely more.
Stalking toward the small bedroom in the back, Bennett ran a hand over his face as he strained to remember what normal felt like, his brain and body were being torn in too many directions. Outside of the hunger, the vampire in him sensed the air itself, drawn to the subtle scent of orchid from Adair’s shampoo. The demon hunter in him was planning his next move, banking on taking out a few of the assholes that did this to him with his bare hands. And the human wanted a nap.
Adair blocked his path. Arms crossed over her chest, a deep furrow between her eyebrows, she hesitated.
Dead on his feet, he halted toe-to-toe with her. Damn, she smelled good. Her gooey blue eyes were as clouded as glacial meltwater, her cheek parked between her teeth. Hip cocked out to the side, she wouldn’t let him pass.
In the chaos, he hadn’t exactly stopped to appreciate what she was wearing, but… damn, she looked incredible. Refreshing in the snug blue dress that hugged her sleek curves, the skirt riding high on her thighs. Decked out in club attire like the first time they’d met, her irresistible features were entirely on display in the wicked dress. Those freckles dotting her cheeks, bow-shaped pink lips, and those spectacular breasts… She was still the vampire-meets-girl-next-door in an absolute sexy-as-fuck dichotomy.
For the first time in way too long–but definitely appreciated considering his preoccupation with murder in the last few hours–his brain was wiped of everything useful and his dick declared it was done being ignored. Legs a mile long, stiletto heels that brought her height to his, she was beyond supermodel. Vampires were inherently alluring, but Adair had an edge that was unique to her alone.
His judgment had never been great around her, as his parents were fond of reminding him.
Flashing back to their last moments together, of Quentin’s look of frank disappointment that had hollowed him out. And worst of all, Adair mirroring the regret. Patting his cheek so condescendingly, telling him she’d had a lovely time, but it was time for her to move on, she’d strolled out of his life without a backward glance.
Chewing on his cheek, he traced his hand along her side to brush past.
Her shoulders slumped, but she quickly righted her posture and moved to the side. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“No, it’s something. That blood should have been enough to hold you over for hours, but you’re pale and clammy already.” Her melty blue eyes were drenched with pity.
He shook his head and slipped into the bedroom without answering. Closing himself in, he ripped off the shredded shirt and chucked it. The hunger was like nothing he’d felt before. He’d kill for it, happily. But the moment he’d heard her voice, seen her face, exactly as he remembered, sweet and irresistible with the edge that immortality had sharpened, things weren’t so intense.
The feel of her hands on his skin, her crooning voice reassuring him like a song that penetrated deep to his bones, fighting to save him, filled him with a hope he didn’t dare to hold. Years of dreams of her bombarded him in half a second, like a fist to the throat.
He stripped out of the rest of his clothes that were drenched from the feverish sweat, then crashed face first onto the mattress, letting exhaustion overtake him.
An hour or two later, he awoke to the searing ache in his throat. Gut wrenching, like he’d die without a tangy taste, imagining the feel of it coating his mouth and easing the burn, that feeling that would bring him halfway to heaven. Breaking out in a cold sweat, he jerked up.
Anticipating him, Adair appeared at the foot of the bed and handed him a heated mug of Brussels sprouts, as she’d described it.
Much better warm. It eased the craving but lacked the orgasmic feel of the real thing. “Fuck, that’s like vegan cheese,” he griped as he glared into the dark mug.
She chuckled. “Once we land, I’ll find us some better stuff. More like vegan sausage.”
“Oh boy, I can’t wait,” he teased, watching over the lip of the cup as he drained the last of it.
“It’s not so bad once you get used to it.” She curled up on the foot of his bed in her bare feet. As the drink soothed the burn, he followed the curve of her shoulder, his gaze trailing across her collarbone.
A shy smile blossomed on her lush lips, her cheeks pinking as he studied her. Quietly sipping from her own mug, she peered through the steam. “What?” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes drifting down. Holding her breath, she shuddered as she looked him over.
Finding a smile for the first time in too damn long, his hands fiddled with his mug. For a woman that left him a decade ago, claiming they had nothing in common and that she wasn’t capable of more than an occasional passing fuck with the innocent hunter, she was adorably shy around him now.
Unable to resist for so many reasons, he leaned close and grazed his lips along the pulse of her neck. He halted, biting his tongue between his teeth. He breathed in the scent of her skin. Up close, that orchid was laced with something more dangerous.
