Whiteout (Aurora Sky (14 page)

Butterflies swarmed in my stomach and a thrilling sensation rushed through my body.

Why now? Why the sudden turn
-
on?

Maybe Dante was right to tell me to lay off the blood.

Pierce crouched, freeing himself of Dante's headlock in the process. He jumped back up, swung around, and punched Dante in the face.

Dante took a step back, narrowly
missing an uppercut to the chest. His nostrils flared.

Pierce stood with his shoulders hunched, arms and fists raised. Ready. Apparently, he'd opted to fight rather than flee.

Unlike Pierce's tense stance, Dante could have been waiting in line for his chan
ce at throwing rings around bottles at the state fair. His expression made him appear annoyed yet eager to wrap his hands around his prize.

My body shud
dered involuntarily. Arctic air from the open door drifted down the
hallway
and
washed over my front whi
le heat from the
wood stove
tingled my back.

Dante made no move toward Pierce. He watched and waited. Pierce's body quivered ever so slightly. Holding his fists up had to be tiring.

Dante stomped one foot forward.

Pierce jumped in place and let a fist fly
, but Dante held his ground.

Pierce jabbed the air. As his arm flew forward, Dante slid around and punched Pierce sideways in the jaw. His hands flew to his face and Dante followed up with a knee to the groin. He grabbed Pierce by the back of the head and
pulled him into the assault.

“Ow!” Pierce yelped.

He doubled over, unable to block
the
barrage of punches and jabs. Dante pounded him in the face and ribs over and over until Pierce collapsed onto the floor.

Dante straightened up and breathed deep. For
a moment, it seemed that Pierce was out for the count like his buddy Arlo
—u
ntil Pierce flipped
onto
his side, grabbed Dante's leg, and yanked it out from under him. Dante's arms flew to his sides as he stumbled back and fell to the floor with a loud thump.

Pierce wasted no time getting on top of him. He pulled his fist back and slammed it into Dante's face.

Rage shot through me.

Pierce drew his fist back, ready to strike again as Dante thrashed beneath him.

“Hey!” I yelled.

Pierce glanced toward me. Dante
shoved him forward by kicking his legs up. Pierce spread both arms out to catch himself before falling against Dante's chest.

With his arms momentarily occupied, Dante pushed him over and rolled on top. Quick as lightning, he pulled his leg in and reached
for the knife holstered around his ankle. He leaned back, torso rising above Pierce's body, and plunged the knife into the vampire's heart.

Pierce went still almost instantly.

Dante pulled his knife out and wiped it clean on the hem of Pierce's shirt. H
e stood slowly and touched his left cheek with his free hand. The skin had started turning purple.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He dropped his hand. “I'm fine.”

Dante
crouched
beside Arlo,
blade lifted
. “Might as well finish this one off too,” he muttered righ
t before plunging his knife into Arlo's heart.

A familiar shudder came over me. I shook it off.

Dante pulled the knife out and stared at the blade. I waited for him to wipe it clean on Arlo's shir
t, but
Dante twisted the handle of the blood
-
soaked blade in
his hand.

His eyes flicked up to me. “If I weren't here and it was you holding this blade, would you lick it? Be honest.”

I eyed the glistening blade for a brief moment before meeting Dante's
eyes
. Fine, he wanted the truth?

“Yes.”

Deep creases cut throu
gh Dante's cheeks when he frowned. “So you ad
mit that you're a blood junkie?”

“You're one to talk—action junkie,” I shot back.

Dante stood up, straightening to his full height. “I'm a hunter. Maybe you should try acting more like my partner and less like a
vampire.”

My nostrils flared. “I
am
a vampire, you stubborn ox
!
And so are you.”

Dante's chest puffed up. “I will always be a hunter. The police don't stop tracking criminals just because they're human. The military doesn't just turn a blind eye and give
terrorists a free pass for being part of the human
race
.”

“And they
don't
stop eating and drinking because they have the same diet as supposed criminals. Blood nourishes us, plain and simple.” I looked at Dante's bloody knife and smiled deviously. “Go ahea
d. Lick the blade. I dare you.”

“Not a chance,” Dante answered.

“Big surprise. Well, if you're not having it, I don't see any reason to let it go to waste.”

I took a step toward him, not sure what had gotten into me. Maybe I was done denying my natural in
stincts. Not only had I escaped the agency, but their toxins were out of me. Their hold over me was a thing of the past. Right now, I was free and clear.

My nerves were all
abuzz
. The taste of Arlo's blood had me salivating for more. The adrenaline rush it
provided had come and gone much too
fast
.

Dante could judge me all he wanted. He was the one in denial.

I expected him to take a step back or hold the knife up high, out of reach, or wipe the blade. But a gleam came over his eyes, one I couldn't discern u
ntil he moved the blade below his ear and swiped it against his neck.

I gasped, thinking for one horrific moment that he would slit his throat. Such an action was completely out of character, but my heart constricted against logic for the briefest moment.

Dante holstered the knife and grinned, a silent dare across his lips. The blood smear on his neck beckoned like
the glaze across a warm pastry
.

My stomach gurgled the slightest bit. Will power be damned, this was biology. If stranded in the desert, a pers
on wouldn't forgo drinking at the appearance of water.

What did Dante think? That wiping the blood on his neck would stop me? If anything, it made licking it up even more appealin
g. I'd sooner suck blood off
warm skin than a cold, sharp knife.

Wordles
sly,
I filled the space
in front of him and leaned against his chest. He was a solid mass, yet his body radiated warmth and his flannel shirt felt soft as it brushed against my cheek. The blood on Dante's neck beckoned from inches away. I answered it with my to
ngue, pulling him forward at the same time I closed my eyes. Dante's flannel shirt bunched inside my tightening fists. It didn't take long to lick his neck clean. My throat tingled. My body hummed. I wanted more. I wanted to rip open Dante's shirt and claw
and bite his bare chest with my nails and teeth until I drew blood. I wanted to suck the droplets off his skin and show him exactly who his partner had become. I was a wild beast of a woman
,
and it had nothing to do with vampirism. Cabin fever wasn't trea
ting me very well.

In the frenzy of the moment, I began sucking Dante's neck harder. The blood was gone, but I couldn't stop. It was all I could do not to bite him and bring forth a wellspring of fresh blood dripping down his
warm
neck.

My eyes remained cl
osed. It heightened my senses while hiding the visual of my actions. Maybe I was in denial too. I mean, I was sucking dead vampire blood off my ex-partner's neck.
That
did
n't strike me as healthy
behavior.

The blood is gone,
I heard my voice say
,
as though
coming from someone else inside my brain. The only thing left was the salty taste of Dante's skin, which only magnified my thirst for more blood. If I didn't back away soon, I might very well bite him.

I lifted my head
,
but before I could retreat, Dante c
aptured my lips between his own. He sucked gently on my lower lip as though savoring a sweet before slipping
his tongue inside my mouth.

Had the room gone dark or were my eyes still closed? I couldn't see a thing, but I felt everything. The flick of Dante'
s tongue against the roof of my mouth sent waves of pleasure rippling
throughout
my body.
He
look his time
unzipp
ing
my coat.
His nails grazed my
T
-shirt as his hands slid through my open jacket, finding
my hips and gripping me firmly
.

The kiss deepened into a carnal version of the Hunger Games—a battle of the lips. Mine felt blistered and bruised under Dante's force, but that didn't stop me from dishing it right back. I urged his lips apart and kissed with reckless abandon.

I didn't wa
nt tenderness from Dante. In the heat of the moment, I wanted him to fill the void that threatened to
devour
me every day
as
we moved farther north and
the dwindling
hope I had of reuniting with Fane.

Maybe it was time to face reality. Perhaps this way it
would finally sink in. My old life was gone. There was no going back.

I slipped my tongue inside Dante's mouth and explored greedily.

Dante inhaled sharply then
matched me
in the action.

Damn it!

What had I just told myself about never kissing Dante? And n
ow here I was Frenching the man.

Why did his lips have to feel so goo
d? And his tongue.

No. That was the blood taking over
. Dante knew as well as I
did
that blood riled
up
a vamp sexually. He was taking advantage of the situation. How dare he act like he was above
bloodsucking
then
tempt
me by smudging his own neck?

I forced my eyes open. Seeing Dante's face right there up in mine was what I needed to get a grip. I jumped ba
ck as though I'd been scorched.

“What the hell, Dante?”

It didn't help that his eyes had turned radiant since our mouths connected. A
healthy glow covered his cheeks, including the one Pierce had bruised minutes before.

When Dante didn't answer, I said, “T
hat was all kinds of twisted.”