Undertow by K.R. Conway (1st book in trilogy)

Chapter 13

I looked at Raef, his beautiful face  lined with trepidation.  His was supposedly the face of a true demon. A hunter of humankind who had irrationally decided to protect me, his brilliant enemy, or so it seemed.

Like any sane human, I would have predicted that I would run screaming from the room. But then again, we humans are full of surprises, even to ourselves. And I, for one, have always questioned my sanity.

I looked at him, a fury of emotions bouncing off one another inside me. Betrayal, Passion, Hate, Love, Trust.  A million emotions, yet fear was not one of them. 

I looked forcefully into his eyes. "Prove it. Prove you are what you say you are," I said in a solid but determined voice, the image of his black eyes returning to my mind.

Confusion and surprise briefly raced across Raef's face.   He could have easily hurt me. Snapped my neck in one sickening yank and ended my existence.

My world was so fantastically twisted that, at this point, I could have readily believed any horror story. Most likely it was true.  Perhaps I was . . . what? Fearless? Suicidal? Generally nuts? 

Or maybe I already knew in my heart that he was different. Maybe my confidence was because they were right. Maybe it wasn't that I should fear him, but that he should fear me. 

Maybe I was the true killer in the room.

            He got to his feet and looked down at me, rumpled in a poor-taste top and sweats. He took a deep breath and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled, smooth chest and well-toned arms. He looked like any other human. Well, an exceedingly handsome, athletic one, but nothing that denoted soulless immortal.

I raised my eyebrows, impatient. My heart was racing, no doubt due to the view and to what I knew to be true.

He turned his back to me. Running along his rib was a barely noticeable light pink line. Last night it had been a deep, weeping slash mark. This morning, he was nearly healed.

"How?" I asked him plainly, as he looked over his shoulder at me.

He nodded toward Ana. "Show her," he said in the same, smooth voice I had come to wrap myself in. She sighed, and reluctantly held out her left arm, displaying the bandage on her forearm.

As sore as I was, I launched to my feet remarkably fast. Raef spun around, alarmed that I was going to keel over. 

"What the? Did you . . . cut her? Bite her?" I yelled at him. Somewhere in the more sane and repressed part of my mind, I was being reminded that I was yelling at a member of a murderous race. I stomped on the voice and shoved Raef in the chest, furious.

"How could you?" I yelled, incensed that he had done something terrible to my friend. That he had lied to me. That he had made me love him and in doing so, had betrayed me.

I kept hitting him and he let me. I was so angry, for so many reasons, none of which, however, was fear.

I must have struck him 20 times before he reached up and softly held my wrists, preventing me from hitting him anymore.  I struggled in his iron grasp, but I was becoming exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"Eila! Stop!" demanded Ana. "It isn't his fault.  I offered, and for crying out loud, he didn't bite me. I cut myself so he could drink my blood." 

She got up and came around the table to face me. "It was the only way to heal the wound quickly and I wasn't about to let him tap my life-force. Blood carries a similar essence of the soul. It was a quick fix and you need his protection!"