Why These Two by Jackie Ivie Read Free Book Online Page A

wonder. Absolute perfection. It sent her soaring into a sphere of ecstasy-dipped sensation and then it kept her there.
    She had to alter it, though. She had to finish this before things went completely out of control.
    Reika rolled to her side, taking him with her, disguising her intention with a slide of both hands about his back. Learning. Massaging. Caressing. Her fingers skimmed the ridges of his spine; the muscle of his lower back. Each move drew her closer to the little scar that marked the bullet’s point of entry. She found it, situated at the exact point where his back met the curve of his buttocks. The area was thick with muscle. Taut. Warm. His skin was sensory delight. Tangible pleasure. Reika made circles about his scar, tenderizing it. Working it. She could feel the bullet vibrating beneath her fingers as it shoved through healed-over tissue, searching the same path that had placed it there; tearing through flesh and sinew and tendons.
    And nerves.
    Darryl was shaking but completely taut; handling pain and agony as she’d never experienced. Or if she had, it was forgotten over the centuries. She must not have given him enough of her blood. She probably should’ve opened a gash in her wrist, fed him more, maybe allowed more time. She should have, but couldn’t. Her entire body was alert and readied and thrilling with something she had barely leashed. She didn’t know how she controlled it now. If she waited…?
    This wasn’t working. She’d have to help.
    Reika lifted her head, craning her neck to look up, locating her dagger that he’d worn strapped to his belt. Still there, dangling from one of the posts of the headboard. She lunged for it.
    “What the hell? Reika—?”
    Wide brown eyes stared into hers. The irises large. Black. His look was anxious. Guarded. Almost frightened. Reika maneuvered her hands without breaking eye contact, keeping the dagger behind him, out of view. One hand grazed the path along his spine to his injury, located the bulge that was his bullet seeking a pathway out. The other hand sliced. Darryl jerked. Cried out with a sharp curse. Tried to yank from her. Reika didn’t allow it. And she was stronger. She held him in place as blood spurted onto the sheets, accompanying the bullet. She grabbed for it, and knocked it off the bed, where it rolled somewhere beneath them. Where she couldn’t…quite…see.
    “What…did you just do?”
    The words were tight. Controlled. Spoken through clenched teeth. She had to give up looking for the bit of steel.
    “I got the bullet out.”
    “Bullshit.”
    “Wait. Don’t move yet.”
    “Bitch.”
    The word got meshed in with some more cursing. Most of it aimed at her; at fate. He graduated to creatures of the night. Reika ignored him and bent over his side, bringing the gash into view. This was incredibly difficult. Close to impossible! The aura of blood called her. Her canines throbbed with ache. Deep, liquid red coated her vision. Thirst dried her mouth and she fought it, shaking with the effort.
    And still he cursed her. Unknowing of how she fought near-uncontrollable cravings and urges. Stupid man.
    Reika put her fingers against both sides of his gash, pushed the flesh together, and held it while she blew on it. Watched it start to knit. Waited for a scab to start. Knitting his flesh back together. Healing him. Watching it turn to a pucker of scarred skin again. And then she moved, sliding back into place; matching her frame to his; doing her best to ignore the blood coating her hands as it tormented her. Called to her.
    He had his eyes narrowed. His face set. Nothing on him looked like the man who’d been kissing her, taking her to heights of wonder, sending sensual spurts through her. Wrestling tongues with her.
    Except maybe the drops of blood on his lips.
    She had to shut her eyes for a moment and staunch the urge. The hunger. Before she lost out. He was watching her with narrowed brown eyes when she opened hers.
    “Try