Vampire Instinct by Joey W. Hill

Author:Joey W. Hill [Hill, Joey W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Adult, Erotic, Horror, Romance, SciFi/Fantasy, Vampires
ISBN: 9780425241264
Google: Ld2jmAEACAAJ
Amazon: 0425241262
Barnesnoble: 0425241262
Goodreads: 9794942
Publisher: Berkley Trade
Published: 2011-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

He strode across the enclosure, toward Jeremiah. Leonidas was well and truly gone, the boy’s eyes staring glasslike down on Jeremiah’s bent head. Mal went to a squat, studying the two. Jeremiah was coiled inside the spread of Leonidas’s thighs, bracing himself on one with a bloodstained hand. He lifted his head when Mal appeared in the corner of his vision, though Mal was sure he’d heard his approach. Or maybe not. The boy’s expression looked distant, his mind obviously sunk deep into somewhere else.

“She’s going to be fine,” Mal said. “They both are, thanks to you. Thanks to you all.”

Jeremiah’s expression didn’t change, but Mal didn’t think that was because the boy didn’t hear him. Elisa’s words were replaying in his mind, and he was quite certain Jeremiah already knew she was going to be all right. How that was possible, he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t address that now, and not just because the fledgling was in no shape to answer pointed questions. Mal didn’t trust himself to keep a handle on what was simmering in his own mind.

The possessiveness he was feeling was all animal instinct, but he of all people knew the dangers of vampire and human alike denying their animalistic natures. Mal’s vampire nature was seething, wanting to take something apart. He was still young enough, in vampire terms, to have to deal with the ragged edge of his own bloodlust in an environment saturated with this kind of violence. And this young vampire had removed the one justified outlet to deal with that, while inadvertently moving himself into the bull’s-eye range.

“You . . . kill us?” The question was asked in a dull mutter, as if the words had no real meaning or interest to the boy.

“Not today,” Mal said. Reaching out, he closed his hand over the boy’s wrist, attached to the hand that was mired in Leonidas’s chest with the stake. “Let go, boy. It’s all right. He’s gone.”

Jeremiah blinked. In the end, Mal had to loosen his fingers, staining his own with the clotting and cooling blood. “Go back to your cell; shut the gate. The staff are going to come in and treat Miah. We’ll get Elisa back to the house and tend her there. I’ll leave Chumani and Tokala here to watch over you all tonight. In case you need anything.”

Jeremiah stared at his bloodied hand, limp in Mal’s grip. Slowly, he drew it away, cradled it as if it were something fragile, his eyes shifting to the shaft of wood still protruding from the dead fledgling. Rising slowly, he swayed. Mal rose as well, ready to brace him, but Jeremiah stepped back, making it clear touch wasn’t welcome. His legs steadied. Though the boy was quite a bit shorter, when he lifted his gaze to Mal’s, it felt as if the power of the pain he carried had them meeting eye to eye.

“We . . . won’t need anything,” Jeremiah said, slowly enough to make it distinct. “We’ll watch over ourselves.

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