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But then he picked her up and willed the door open . . . and the passion left her. She was leaving. And he wasn’t going to stop her.

Wasn’t going to take her vein now, either.

He sensed the change in her immediately. “Where have you gone?”

“Nowhere,” she whispered as he laid her down on the bed. “I’m going nowhere.”

Z paused, looming over her, perched on the precipice. But then he worked his fly, springing loose that huge arousal. As he got up on her, his pants around his thighs, she turned her face to the side.

His hands stroked her hair back. “Bella?”

“Do it and then let me go.” She opened her legs wider to accommodate him, and as his erection hit her core, he groaned, his weight shifting in a jerk. When he didn’t penetrate her, she closed her eyes.

“Bella . . .”

“I’d reach down and put you inside, but we both know you can’t stand to have me touch you. Or do you want me on all fours? More anonymous that way. You’d barely know what you were fucking.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Why not? Hell, you’re not even naked. Which makes me wonder why this needs to happen at all. Now that you know how to take care of yourself, you don’t have to have a female.” Her voice cracked. “You most certainly don’t need me.”

There was a long silence.

She heard a hissing sound. And then he bit her.

Zsadist sank his fangs in deep and shivered at the first rush of Bella’s blood. The richness, the thick, heavenly texture pooled in his mouth, and when he swallowed, it coated the back of his throat.

He couldn’t stop.

When he’d decided to take her vein, he’d told himself he was allowed only one single, great pull, but once he started he couldn’t break the connection. Instead, he gathered her in his arms and rolled her to the side so he could curl himself around her better.

Bella cradled him close, and he was sure she was crying again as she held him, because her breathing was raw.

Stroking her naked back, he tucked her hips into his, wanting to comfort her as he took from her, and she seemed to ease. Even as he didn’t. His dick was screaming, the tip about to blow off.

“Take me,” she moaned, “Please.”

Yes, he thought. Yes!

Except, oh God, he couldn’t stop the drinking long enough to get inside her: The strength pouring into him was too addictive and the response of his body was too incredible. As he fed, he felt his muscles knitting together, forming a steel weave over the hardening cage of his bones. His cells were absorbing the essential nutrients he had deprived them of for a century and putting them to immediate use.

Afraid he was going to take too much and kill her, Z eventually forced himself to release Bella’s throat, but she just grabbed onto the back of his head and pushed him down. He fought his impulse for a moment, but then growled, the sound loud and low as a mastiff’s. With a rough lift and twist, he repositioned her and nailed her on the other side of the neck, biting hard. Now he was crawling over her, trapping her underneath him, the bonding scent pouring out of him in waves. He was the carnivore standing over its prey while it fed, his arms flared and bent while he held himself up, his thighs spread over her lower body.

When he was finished he tilted his head back, took a deep breath, and roared loud enough to rattle the windows, his body twitching with the kind of power he’d known long ago, and only from the vile, forced feedings of the Mistress.

Zsadist looked down. Bella was bleeding from the two wounds he’d given her, but her eyes were shining and the unmistakable scent of the female sex rose from her. He licked up both sides of her throat and kissed her, pushing into her mouth, taking, dominating what was his . . . marking her now not just with his scent but his will.

He was drunk on her, greedy and needy. He was the dark, raw hole that had to be filled. He was the dry pit; she was the water.

Z reared up and whipped off his shirt. Looking down at his nipples, he looped his pinkies into the piercings