Read Online To Crave a Blood Moon by Sharie Kohler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharie Kohler
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challengethe lie, but he laughed. The sound, disturbing and horrible, scraped her spine. âHow right you are. You would do well to remember that.â
A monster. She was closer to the truth than she realized.
But he would be a monster if needed. He could live with taking her again. And again. Whether she wanted it or not, he could do it again if he had to. If her death were the alternative, he would take that lesser evil on himself.
Thereâd been women. Plenty. Brief encounters where he took and gave little in return. He had little to give. He was a creature whose own mother afforded him little love. Only enough to stay her hand from slitting his throat. She taught him well just how contemptible a thing he was. Not a creature of God, but an unholy aberration. Not a man to live his life in a normal fashion. No home to speak of. No roots. No woman for him to take to bed, to heart, to live with each day⦠to live
for
. He was not a mortal man to live such an ordinary life.
A lucky life
.
Suddenly he remembered that lesson. Remembered why women like Ruby were not for him. He wasnât up for falling in love with a woman he would have to eventually bury.
Yet he still craved her, wanted to cross the cell and find her wet heat again. The odor of sex permeated the small space, mingling with the tantalizing aroma that was all her.
She was a cleansing balm to his soul. He wanted her again, wanted to have her until those memories were wiped forever clean. She could do that, he realized with a jolt. She had been sweeter than anyone to come before.
If he were honest with himself, he would want her whether the moon was high or not. She was a tempting package with her smooth skin and silky dark hair and eyes that glowed fire. Long limbs, ample curvesâshe was built like women used to be. Before they aspired to be runway thin. And she felt like paradise around his cock, snug and tight.
Yes. He could live with her hatred. What he couldnât live with was her death.
Even though his survival depended on killing her, he could never live with himself if that happened. He had lived over a hundred years without taking an
innocent
life. He wasnât going to start now. Especially not with someone like Ruby Deveraux. An innocent, strangely untouched.
At least, she had been.
A virgin
. He closed his eyes in a severe blink, hating that he had been the one to take that from her. To steal her innocence away.
He was already cursed to hell for taking her like any well-used whore. Opening his eyes, he grimaced, watching her curl into herself across the room, as far from him as she could get. The distance wouldnât matter. If he had to take her again in order to stave off the hunger, then he would.
Hardening his heart, he tore his gaze from Ruby, studying the moonâs glow filtering through the room, understanding, perhaps for the first time, the frightening power behind the call of it. His mother had known, but he had denied its influence on him, arrogantly thinking himself stronger, better than the lycan dogs out there.
The moon would begin to wane tomorrow. Maybe then the beast would be easier to control and Ruby wouldnât be in as much danger. From him, anyway.
He snorted.
Right
. He dragged a hand through his short hair, his nails scraping his scalp.
He looked at the woman again. She was on her side now, her eyes closed but he knew she was still awake. Sensed it in her every breath. Her hair formed a dark puddle, shiny as water in the night. He remembered tangling his hand through it and his fingers itched, eager for the feel again.
If, by some miracle, they got out of this alive, he would do her the favor of disappearing from her life and return to what he did best. His lip curled over his teeth.
He wasnât a lycan⦠but he wasnât human either. As a dovenatu, the moon might intensify his impulses, but he could shift at willâthe main reason the pack so badly wanted him for their own.
A monster. She was closer to the truth than she realized.
But he would be a monster if needed. He could live with taking her again. And again. Whether she wanted it or not, he could do it again if he had to. If her death were the alternative, he would take that lesser evil on himself.
Thereâd been women. Plenty. Brief encounters where he took and gave little in return. He had little to give. He was a creature whose own mother afforded him little love. Only enough to stay her hand from slitting his throat. She taught him well just how contemptible a thing he was. Not a creature of God, but an unholy aberration. Not a man to live his life in a normal fashion. No home to speak of. No roots. No woman for him to take to bed, to heart, to live with each day⦠to live
for
. He was not a mortal man to live such an ordinary life.
A lucky life
.
Suddenly he remembered that lesson. Remembered why women like Ruby were not for him. He wasnât up for falling in love with a woman he would have to eventually bury.
Yet he still craved her, wanted to cross the cell and find her wet heat again. The odor of sex permeated the small space, mingling with the tantalizing aroma that was all her.
She was a cleansing balm to his soul. He wanted her again, wanted to have her until those memories were wiped forever clean. She could do that, he realized with a jolt. She had been sweeter than anyone to come before.
If he were honest with himself, he would want her whether the moon was high or not. She was a tempting package with her smooth skin and silky dark hair and eyes that glowed fire. Long limbs, ample curvesâshe was built like women used to be. Before they aspired to be runway thin. And she felt like paradise around his cock, snug and tight.
Yes. He could live with her hatred. What he couldnât live with was her death.
Even though his survival depended on killing her, he could never live with himself if that happened. He had lived over a hundred years without taking an
innocent
life. He wasnât going to start now. Especially not with someone like Ruby Deveraux. An innocent, strangely untouched.
At least, she had been.
A virgin
. He closed his eyes in a severe blink, hating that he had been the one to take that from her. To steal her innocence away.
He was already cursed to hell for taking her like any well-used whore. Opening his eyes, he grimaced, watching her curl into herself across the room, as far from him as she could get. The distance wouldnât matter. If he had to take her again in order to stave off the hunger, then he would.
Hardening his heart, he tore his gaze from Ruby, studying the moonâs glow filtering through the room, understanding, perhaps for the first time, the frightening power behind the call of it. His mother had known, but he had denied its influence on him, arrogantly thinking himself stronger, better than the lycan dogs out there.
The moon would begin to wane tomorrow. Maybe then the beast would be easier to control and Ruby wouldnât be in as much danger. From him, anyway.
He snorted.
Right
. He dragged a hand through his short hair, his nails scraping his scalp.
He looked at the woman again. She was on her side now, her eyes closed but he knew she was still awake. Sensed it in her every breath. Her hair formed a dark puddle, shiny as water in the night. He remembered tangling his hand through it and his fingers itched, eager for the feel again.
If, by some miracle, they got out of this alive, he would do her the favor of disappearing from her life and return to what he did best. His lip curled over his teeth.
He wasnât a lycan⦠but he wasnât human either. As a dovenatu, the moon might intensify his impulses, but he could shift at willâthe main reason the pack so badly wanted him for their own.
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