Bitter Blood (Blood and Moonlight Book 3)

Paris growled.

Instantly, Annette straightened. She pointed at Drew—a still bleeding Drew. That blood scent is just going to make Paris wild. “Get him out of here! Paris might not have been able to keep human blood down, but that doesn’t mean the scent won’t screw with his mind!” She gave a hard negative shake of her head. “He isn’t like you, Vincent. Paris doesn’t have centuries’ worth of strength to hold his hunger in check.”

Vincent nodded. “No, he isn’t like me. I was born to be this way. He wasn’t.” He hauled Drew to his feet and yanked him toward the door. “Another end.”

No, nothing is ending for Paris.

Lena stared at Annette.

“I’ll secure him in the other room,” Vincent called. “Jane is going to want to see her brother when she gets here.”

He was confident that Jane would be arriving but…what about Aidan?

“He thinks Aidan will die tonight,” Lena whispered.

Annette eyed the woman.

“He doesn’t get it,” Lena added. “The man Aidan was…he’s already dead.”

Garrison took a lunging step toward her. “Liar!”

Annette put her hand on the young wolf’s shoulder. “Easy.” Too much was happening, too fast. She needed to figure things out. Paris was eerily silent behind her and she was almost afraid to look back at him.

Aidan, get your hairy alpha ass back here and help out your pack.

“Aidan is the strongest wolf I know,” Garrison said, his pride in Aidan obvious. “Nothing takes him down.”

“Jane will.” Lena seemed certain. “That’s what she was meant to be, don’t you see that? The end. His end. The end for them all.”

“Witch,” Annette muttered. “I’m really not liking you.”

Lena’s eyelids flickered. “Why do people keep calling me that?” She sauntered around the room and her toe brushed against a chunk of broken black glass. “Bet you wish that was still working, don’t you?”

Suspicions swirled within Annette. She knew there were lots of powerful paranormal beings out there but Lena…

“Lena!” Vincent roared. “I need you! Come to me!”

Lena offered Annette a faint smile. Then she turned away.

Power seemed to pulse in the air behind her as she left them.

“You need to call Police Captain Vivian Harris!” Annette shouted after her. “Drew should be in her custody! She can help us!”

Another growl built from Paris’s throat. Annette looked back at him. His eyes were darkening with emotion.

With…bloodlust.

“Here we go again,” Annette whispered and she felt her heart break a bit more.





Chapter Fifteen


Aidan’s claws slid over her cheek, his touch as soft as a whisper, not so much as scratching her skin.

Jane’s breath eased out on a ragged sigh. “I’m afraid.”

His nostrils flared. “I can smell your fear.” He smiled at her as his claws slid down her neck. “I like that scent.”

She caught his hand, held tight. “No, you don’t. You hate it when I’m afraid.”

Aidan just stared down at her. Such a cold, empty stare.

“You love me,” she told him. “You don’t ever want me to be afraid.”

His brow furrowed.

“I know you’re in there.” Jane tightened her grip on him. “And I’m going to get you out. I’m—”

He lifted her up and they seemed to fly across the club. In the next instant, she was sitting on the bar, and he was standing between her legs. He’d grabbed her wrists, and he’d pinned them to the bar top, one on either side of her body.

Jane stared at him and remembered him making love to her. Right there.

But when he looked back at her, his gaze was that of a hunter, one who was about to devour his prey.

“Aidan…” Jane began.

And he bit her. He moved so fast that she didn’t realize his intent, not until it was too late. Jane had still thought that she could reach him. But he sank his fangs into her throat and the white-hot sting of his bite stole her breath. He drank from her, seeming to glory in her taste. Because this was Aidan—her Aidan—her body responded to him. Her breasts ached, her sex yearned.

He licked her neck. “I like that.” His voice rasped against her. “I’ll take more.” His fangs raked over her skin.

“Stop!” She yanked her wrists from his grasp and slammed her hands against his chest.

His head lifted.

“Aidan…” Chill bumps were on her arms. “Say my name.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Say my name,” Jane ordered again, frantic, desperate. Because he was gazing at her as if she were a stranger and that scared her most of all. Whatever was happening inside of him, Jane needed Aidan to remember her. To remember them. To remember what they were to each other. “Do you even know who I am?”

His fangs flashed. “Yes.” A hiss. “I know…you’re mine.” His head came back toward her, lowering over her neck.

He was going to bite her again.