Addictive (Hellish Mates #1)

Chapter 4

In all his life, Zachariah had tasted the finest and most exotic of blood. From the dark richness of demon lineages, to the savory saltiness of mermen, to the airy sweetness of faeries, he tasted them all. And yet, none compared to the werewolf halfling that stood in front of him—bare, flushed, and stimulating.

All too stimulating.

The only deciding factor to Zachariah's interest in another was their blood. Had it been aged through years and years of existence? Did it belong to a being of unmatched prowess? Was it a perfect blend of mythics?

In this case, it was the latter. Werewolf and human. No other could match the concoction to incite madness within a vampire. As for the owner of such blood, she was nothing more to him than a halfling—more human than werewolf. Her behavior and habits screamed of those he witnessed in mortals. Quick to change emotion, quick to act upon trivial impulse...quick to fall into addiction.

Young, weak, susceptible. With just one push from Zachariah, the halfling would be in the palm of his hand. Would be willing to flip away her hair, expose her throat, let him sink his fangs into her goosebump ridden skin.

Let him finally taste the flavor he didn't know, yet craved beyond all others.

His tongue flickered and his fangs elongated, causing the women to stiffen. Zachariah held out his hand, beckoning Rina with curled fingers, eyeing the blood dripping down her arm. "Come here, little halfling. Let me taste you."

Any other would've succumbed to his seduction. He was known to bring pleasure without the sex, ecstacy without the drug, bliss without the affection. There was a queue awaiting for his fangs, for his lips, for his tongue.

Yet, this creature in front of him hesitated. Curiosity and fear flickered in her eyes. Zachariah fascinated her—that much he could tell. But he also scared her. She had never faced an adversary like him before.

Good.

This was as much of a personal agenda as it was a trial for the new Hellion.

"Wolfling," he purred the pet name. "Either I will get a sip, or you will be devoured. Choose."

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head, her hair whipping through the breeze.

The hafling surprised him. Excited him. It had been a long time since someone refused his proposition. Zachariah only offered to those he knew craved for his bite. He received a meal while his prey received their wish.

Not this time. This time, his target would play hard to get.

He could hear the beating of her heart. Though she tried to wear a facade of calm and control, Zachariah knew she was tense and ready to fight back should he proceed with his words.

"You believe you are strong enough to take me?" he questioned.

To her, it may have sounded like a threat, but Zachariah was only curious about her thoughts. Did she overestimate her limits? Or was she aware of her own capabilities? Either way, she could never win in a battle of power or will against him.

"No," she answered. "But I won't have to do that, will I?"

His brows twitched from interest. "You believe I won't use force?"

"If you were going to, then why haven't you done it already?"

Sharp little halfling.

When it came to drinking blood, Zachariah preferred if his prey enjoyed it as much as he did. Less messy. More efficient. Only when he was ripping the jugular out of an enemy did he feel the thrill of struggle.