The Warrior Vampire by Kate Baxter Page B

Ronan’s lungs as a fist made solid contact with his gut. His fangs disengaged from Naya’s throat as he stumbled, his back meeting violently with the closed bedroom door. The haze of lust that burned through him quenched in an instant. He let out a quiet moan and cupped the back of his head; his brain had been jarred from his skull cracking against the molding that surrounded the doorjamb.
    In the time it took him to gather his wits Naya had collected her dagger from the floor. She rushed at him, poising the tip of the blade over his heart. One hand wrapped tightly around the grip, the other palm braced against the pommel, she leaned in close and seethed, “How dare you take my blood!”
    In his experience, women who wielded daggers didn’t usually respond well to diplomacy, but he was willing to give it a shot. “Easy, Naya.”
    â€œEasy?” Her incredulous tone prickled over his skin. “What you did was a violation !”
    The word sat heavy on Ronan’s chest. Dirty. Shameful. As though the thought of it disgusted her. A warning growl gathered in his chest and Ronan bared his fangs. “What I did was my right as your mate !”

 
    CHAPTER
    5
    Naya stared at Ronan. Dumbstruck.
    Mate? Had the entirety of the male population lost their ever-loving minds today?
    And, for that matter, had she?
    Pleasure radiated through her body, suffused with a warmth that left her feeling boneless. Her core still pulsed with the need to finish what Ronan had started and her arousal dampened her underwear that clung to her heated sex. He’d wound her tight, bringing her to that place of mindless want so quickly that she’d lost herself to him before she’d even realized she was gone. Even now, she wanted to lower the dagger and resume where they’d left off. She gave her head a shake, as much to dislodge the music of the magic that clung to him from her ears as to banish the sensation of his touch from her skin.
    He’d thrown her off her game. A feat very few males had ever managed to accomplish.
    Her shock took a backseat to her anger as Naya brought her fingers up to the dual sets of punctures in her neck. There was magic in blood. A power that could be exploited by the right person. And by drinking hers, Ronan had consumed her magia, taking that power into himself. Had the vampire known what he was doing when he’d latched onto her throat? Did it matter?
    â€œLet me close the punctures.” His voice was as warm and smooth as dark chocolate. Silver chased across his gaze as he reached out and Naya pressed the tip of the dagger deeper into his flesh. He stilled. The tiniest shift in pressure would cause the blade to break the skin.
    â€œDon’t even think about touching me, vampire.” Naya drew on her own power, concentrating her focus as it gathered within her. Warmth radiated from her fingertips as she brought them to her skin. Magic penetrated the wounded flesh that tightened and healed in a matter of seconds.
    Ronan stared, rapt, at the spot where his mouth had just been, and a thrill chased through Naya’s veins at the untamed heat in his gaze. Dios mio. Get a grip. She couldn’t afford to let him get the upper hand again.
    â€œA talented female.” Ronan’s voice was dark smoke that stole the starch from Naya’s spine. She leaned in toward him, drawn in as though by gravity. “But you’ve denied me the pleasure of putting my mouth on you again to close the wounds myself.”
    â€œThat will be the one and only time you put your mouth on me, vampire.”
    Ronan leaned toward her, but Naya held her ground—and the dagger still—refusing to move. The tip of the blade sank past the barrier of his skin. Her gaze flicked down to where crimson bloomed and spilled over the curve of his pec. The dagger grew hungry in her palm, eager to sink deeper, and she held the blade in check. Once it had a taste for the stolen