A hot, wicked and needy feeling that demanded he surrender to it.
Gods, he wanted to surrender to it. He wanted to step into Mackenzie, tunnel his fingers into the soft, flame-red waves of her hair and fist it as he took her mouth, as he swept his lips upwards to flick his tongue across the blood that darted over her cheek.
She came at him on a bellow, jerking him out of his reverie and back to her in time to strike her forearm with his, knocking the thrust of her blade off course. It harmlessly plunged past him, but she continued forwards, barrelled into him and slammed a hard right hook into his nose. Blood burst from it and he swiped his tongue over it as he countered her, bringing his arm up to block hers again. She tossed a disgusted look at him as he dabbed at another bead of blood that reached his lips and backed off, gaining herself some space that he instantly wanted to close.
If the sight of him tasting his own blood repulsed her, she could offer hers up to satisfy this hunger swelling inside him instead.
He shut down that thought. He knew better than to bite someone, taking blood directly from the vein, and he definitely knew better than to bite someone he knew nothing about.
And he did know nothing about her.
At least nothing vital—like what species she was and why she seemed so protective of that knowledge.
She came at him again and he blocked her again, almost smiled when she unleashed a frustrated sound and made another rushed attempt on his stomach. Anger was getting the better of her, making her attacks sloppy. He didn’t think she would appreciate him telling her that outright though, so he told her with actions instead, easily blocking her blade and catching her wrist this time.
He locked his hand tight around it, clamping fingers down onto bones so hard he was surprised they didn’t break, and yanked it up, using the full head in height he had on her to his advantage.
She gritted her teeth and struggled, kicked his shins with an enthusiasm he could only admire as she wrestled to get free.
Hartt tugged her arm up higher.
Her chest collided with his.
She looked up at him as he gazed down at her, the fires raging in her eyes bewitching him as he waited for her to make her next move, tried to figure out what it would be. A knee to the groin? A teleport? A fist in the face?
She did none of those things.
She grabbed him by his nape, dragged his head down and kissed him.
An inferno instantly swept through him, torched his blood and his resolve.
Hartt wrapped his free arm around her waist and hauled her against him, kissed her hard, a desperate clash of their lips that had his heart pumping faster. Her fingers tightened against his nape, nails pressing into his flesh, and she moaned as she angled her head and opened to him, as her tongue brushed his and sent wicked heat sizzling through every nerve in his body, setting them alight.
Gods.
He wanted to drown in her.
He went to pull her closer.
She stiffened in his arms, her heart skipping a beat in his ears as she locked up tight. And then she broke free of him, staggered backwards and ripped a growl from his lips as she stole the delicious heat of her body from his.
Her golden eyes were enormous as she touched her lips, as she stared at him, shock written in every line of her delicate features.
Shock that echoed inside him too.
Tempered by a fierce need to seize her and drag her back against him, to kiss her until she surrendered to him.
His beautiful redhead was quick to recover, came at him on a strangled cry, more vicious than before. He blocked whenever he could manage it, but she was faster now, her blows more precise, more power behind each one. Fury fuelled her and he would’ve picked her up on it had she not been attempting to gut him and almost succeeding.
“You kissed me,” he muttered as he barely managed to knock a blow off course.
She bared her teeth at him, but the blame she had clearly placed on his shoulders didn’t leave her lips. She attacked instead, thrusting her blade at his hip, coming too damned close to cutting him this time.
“Mackenzie,” he bit out and shoved her arm, knocking her off balance. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
Those words gave him pause. It didn’t?
Unfortunately, they didn’t have the same effect on her.
He grunted as her blade plunged into the right side of his chest, close to his shoulder, and stared at her, his ears ringing as white-hot fire blazed outwards from the point of impact. Her eyes widened and she blinked as she stared at her hand, a flicker of disbelief crossing her features.
Heat spread downwards, the scent of his blood hanging thick in the air, awakening the part of him that he battled on a daily basis. The part of him now gnashing fangs at the stunned female in front of him.
He tried to tell her to run as it roared up on him, but the only sound that left his lips was a black snarl.
And then everything went hazy.
He heard muffled cries, felt fire erupting in several places on his own body, but experienced only pleasure as it coursed through him, as he slipped deeper into the waiting darkness. He grinned and lashed out at his foe, drawing blood that had him howling with a need of it. His fangs ached, saliva pooling in his mouth as he tried to get close to the source of that blood, desperate to drink his fill.
To drown in it.
In her.
A male scent swirled around him. Familiar. A voice wobbled in his ears. Comforting. Strength that had given way slowly reconstructed itself as he shook his head and stumbled backwards, as he tried to piece together fragmented memories of hair like rubies and eyes like gold.
And tears that glistened like diamonds upon her crimson-stained cheeks.
He sank to his knees as his strength left him again, hitting the ground hard enough to jolt his spine, but he didn’t feel the pain through the fire that consumed his body. He clutched his head and bellowed as the roar of noise in his mind made it impossible to gather his thoughts. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, confusion tearing at him as heat rolled down his cheeks, laced with the scent of salt.
“Fight it.” The familiar male voice echoed in the darkness, carved holes in the veil of night to allow light to shine in.
That light blazed gold as a softer female voice bit out, “I’ll kill you too if you don’t get out of my way!”
Kill who? Him? The other male?
The thought of her attacking the other male had his blood running cold and caused a fissure in the darkness so wide and dazzling that his eyes watered.
“No,” he muttered and tried to stand as he pushed back against the darkness, wrestling his way towards that light.
He managed to get his foot against the ground before he collapsed again. What was wrong with him? Why was he so damned weak? He needed to be strong. He needed to stop the male before it was too late.
He would kill her.
A muffled grunt followed by a thud that sent a slight tremor through the ground to him had his blood turning to ice.
The female.
Silence fell.
He strained to hear her, his jumbled senses stretching outwards to find her, fear gripping him in icy talons that pierced right down to his soul. Shuffling footsteps sounded, growing more distant rather than coming towards him.
“No,” he whispered and growled as frustration rolled through him, as he fought the darkness that blackened his soul and filled his mind with images of bloodshed and death.
Her bloodshed and death.
But not at his hands.