Page 51 of Little Mate
“Are you ready?” I ask a few seconds later, my face against hers, breath fanning her cheek.
“Ready for what?” Head tilting to the side, she shows me her neck. Tempting me.
“Motherfuck.” It leaves me on a hiss, my cock hard and muscles contracting with the need—the urgency to get her somewhere private. I need her. All of her. And more so after this confession, a crumbling yet humbling truth that robs me momentarily of my senses.
The room disappears, and all I hear and see is her. I smell her sweetness and not the blood that drips to the floor when a body isn’t fully drained.
My mouth waters and fangs descend; I pick my pretty girl up from her chair and cradle her small body to my chest, enjoying both the feel and the way her face turns into my neck, nuzzling me.
“Where are we going, King Astor?”
I shiver at her words. The hint of sass behind the formal address. “I want to show you something.”
“Will I like it?”
“You’ll fucking love it.”
15
GABRIELLA
He walks us out of the room while the others begin to feed. The horrified screams of the humans still alive bother me, but not as much as I thought they would at first. Maybe it’s because I’m attuned to nature and its course never changes with the times.
Life adapts, but instincts always remain the same.
To hunt and eat is ingrained in every species; it’s how we survive.
Vampires drink blood.
Werewolves need meat—plenty of livestock and wild animals.
Fae like their sweet treats and creams.
My people lean toward a more vegetarian lifestyle, but depending on the coven, they do allow meat.
Humans have no preference and indulge in everything and anything. The good, the bad, and the illegal for the right price. They hunt more than they need, not understanding the delicate balance of life.
No species is above another.
There’s always someone or something that poses a threat.
We are all connected one way or another in a large circle, a never-ending cycle of life that begins at birth and ends with death, while some like Theo enforce the balance.
It’s something our parents taught us while young. Survival is never pretty or fair but collects just the same.
“Are you cold, pretty girl? Comfortable?”
“I won’t deny that I’d love to change.” Looking up, I give him a small pout. “The top is a bit constricting, and my breasts are used to being free. They don’t need the support in this thing to be perky.”
Amber eyes turn red, almost glowing as they lower to my chest. “You are perfect.”
That’s all he says before using a nail in the back to cut down the fabric encasing my upper body. The give is automatic, and I sigh in contentment, the digging sensation gone now.
“Thank you.”
“Then thank me by never wearing something you are uncomfortable in.” His lips press to my temple where he breathes me in, not once stopping his leisure pace back toward the animal sanctuary. Yet, instead of turning right where the large gate is, he veers left and then straight.
His pace picks up, and soon the sound of water reaches my ears. The soothing scent of a warm night wraps around me like a second blanket and my eyes close.