Edge of Hunger. Rhyannon Byrd
then explainââ
âI donâtââ
ââhow Iâm able to wake up in my bed with the taste of your goddamn blood in my mouth!â he roared.
âBut Iââ
âAnd this time, donât lie about it! I want to know how it happened, Molly!â
She slammed her left hand down on the table, tired of him yelling at herâ¦of not knowing how to make him listen. âI donât know how it happened! I swear. Iâve never dreamed about you before. Iâve never had anything like this happen to me beforeâsharing a dream with someone that is somehow, in some way, actually happening. All I know is what Elaina has told me, and Iâve been trying to tell you, but you wonât listen! She led me to you, told me where to find you. Wanted me to warn you that youâre in dangerâthat youâre being hunted.â
âItâs the nightmares,â he growled, his gorgeous, arrogant face set in a hard, obstinate expression that made her want to scream with frustration. âYouâve done something to me.â
âNo, thatâs not true. Think, Ian. Youâve been having nightmares for weeks now, and we only just met. I swear, I have nothing to do with them. The darkness⦠this all has to do with whatâs hiding within you. You know that. I know you do. Elainaâs been telling you stories about the Merrick since you were a little boy.â
He stumbled back another step, eyes bleeding to black, and shoved his hands into his hair. Locking his fingers behind his head, he glared up at the ceiling with his jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. Molly stared at the dark tufts of hair under his arms, the stark lines of his throat, wanting so badly to reach out and touch him. To place her hand over the center of his chest and feel his heart pounding against her palm, vital and urgent and strong.
âIan, I know you donât want to believe me, but after whatâs happened, how can you still think Iâm here to con you? This thing is real. I have the bite marks on my neck to prove it. We need to help each other figure it out, because I can guarantee you this is more than I signed up for. Elaina told me how to find you, wanted me to talk to you. To tell you things that sheâs afraid no one else will. But she didnât say a damn thing aboutâ¦about whatever the hell it was that happened tonight. She told me this thing inside of you needs to feed for power, but she didnât sayâ¦â
Her voice trailed off, and he lowered his gaze back to her, muttering, âThat it would feed off you? That it would take your blood?â
âYes.â She swallowed nervously, folding her arms across her chest, resisting the urge to lift her fingertips and touch the tingling warmth of the bite on her throat, the tender flesh slowly throbbing with residual pulses of pleasure.
His eyes narrowed, studying her with fierce intensity, and then he rasped, âSon of a bitch. You actually liked it, didnât you?â
âWhat?â She blinked, floundering for the right thing to say.
âFace it, Molly. Any other woman would have run screaming in the other direction by now. Would have hauled her ass out of Henning the second she woke up and found her throat bleeding. But look at you, coming here, wanting to talk. To help me. What is it with you?â He stalked toward her again, his body closing off any escape route. âYou got a death wish? Or do you just get off on the hard stuff?â
Towering over her, his callused hand slipped under the fall of her hair again, his rough fingertip smoothing over one of the two puncture wounds, and she gasped at the insane rush of sensation that curled through her center, settling heavily between her thighs. Her sex heatedâ¦swelled, feeling heavy and empty all at once, and his nostrils flared, those dark eyes cutting to her own confused stare, and she knew he could smell the need. That dark, uncontrollable ache twisting deep inside, clawing at her, making her crave. Making her need things that she didnât even understand. That she feared.
âWhatâs your answer, Molly?â
Shakily, she said, âBe crude if it helps you deal. I have a thick enough skin by now to take it. You may piss me off, but itâs not going to scare me away. Iâm not going to run.â
âAnd youâre not going to give me any answers, either, are you?â
Her eyes slid closed, tears threatening to spill from the excess emotion crashing through her system. âI wish I could explain how the dream happened, Ian. But I canât.â
He sighed, the heat of his body covering her like a glittering ray of sunshine. âOkay, Iâll bite,â he drawled in a deep, graveled voice, and she could feel the press of his eyes on her face, watching her. âItâs not like your story wonât be entertaining as hell. So letâs hear it. What can you tell me?â
With a deep breath, Molly lifted her lashes. âI can tell you about Elaina. I can tell you what sheâs told me.â
âIn your dreams, right?â he murmured, his gaze settling heavily on her mouth, making her lips tingle.
âThatâs how she talks to me, yes. Donât ask me why, because I donât know. Itâs just the way that itâs been since I was a teenager.â
He latched on to that like a pit bull with a bone, suddenly holding her stare. âWhat happened when you were a teenager?â
Flustered, she tore her gaze away from his and focused it on the table. In the center sat one of those store-bought scented candles that freshened the air, its name no doubt flowery and feminine. And that easily, something inside of her softened, shifted into a calmer focus, her body relaxing in the chair, tension releasing like the gentle escape of air from a balloon. She silently laughed at her screwed-up logic, ridiculously reassured, comforted even, by a freaking candle, as if it made him seem less dangerous. God, maybe she was crazy. The fact that he owned a scented candle didnât make him any less of a threat to her stability. Didnât make him domesticated or tame. He probably just didnât like his kitchen smelling like cigarette smoke.
Pressing one hand to her stomach, holding in the wild spiral of emotions, she said, âWhat happened to me isnât important. Itâs whatâs happening to you that we need to focus on. Thereâs somethingâ¦inside of you, Ian. Something that you need to learn to control. Something that will cause you to be hunted. Thatâs going to put the people you care about in danger.â
âI told you before, thereâs no one I care about.â
âI donât believe that,â she argued. âI bet thereâs someone that youâre worried about tonight. Elaina told me there is. And sheâs in danger from thisâ¦this evil thatâs going to try and hurt you both.â
He moved closer, hands braced on the back of the chair, his warm, earthy scent surrounding her, the heavy look in his eyes as sexual as it was angry. âAnd what makes you think I care about her, or even like her?â A hard, gritty laugh slid past his lips, low and sexy as hell. âTrust me, little Molly-Do-Right, people like Kendra and me donât need to like the people we have sex with.â
âThen why?â
His head tilted to the side. âWhy what?â
âIf you disliked her so much, why sleep with her?â
For a moment she didnât think he was going to answer as he pushed away from her again, as if she were something not to be trusted that could turn on him at any moment. He grabbed the black T-shirt hanging over the back of a nearby chair, then pulled it over his head, turned and stalked to the cupboard to the right of the sink. Pulling down a short, thick glass and a