Free Never Been Bit by Lydia Dare Page A

path and glared up at the night sky. The damned moon was nearly full. A few more nights and those drooling beasts she seemed so enamored with would transform into actual snarling wolves.
    After this evening’s debacle, he could well imagine her finding a way to place herself directly in their path. And then… well, then she’d be forever lost. No longer the sweet, innocent he adored, the lass he cared so much for.
    Alec couldn’t allow that to happen. But he also couldn’t allow himself to care for her anymore than he already did.
    Ruin lay down that road. He needed to think. He needed to feed. Butcher shop in the village . Sorcha’s melodic voice echoed in his ears. Damn it all to hell. He’d already determined that there was no one in the tavern he could take from. So he didn’t really have a choice, did he?
    Besides, he really should retrieve the horse he’d ridden into Folkestone and keep Bexley from wondering what had happened to him.
    Alec looked over his shoulder to make certain no one was about in the garden. Certain no one would see his rapid disappearance, he bolted off in the direction of the village and that damned butcher shop.
    He grumbled to himself as he picked the lock of the darkened building, searching for his evening meal. He could have been at home where he could partake of all the wenches he wanted at Brysi , the club for those of his kind. It was a veritable fountain, with Cyprians lining up to share the pleasure that came with coupling with a vampyre. There was no desperation in those women’s eyes. There was no fear. No enchantment was needed to get one of them to accept him. In fact, he’d become something of a legend at Brysi , known for his stamina and the amount of pleasure he could give a wench in exchange for her life force. But here he was, stuck in Godforsaken nowhere and forced to scour a butcher shop to find sustenance.
    He shivered lightly. Lamb had been one of his favorite meals when he was alive. But not anymore. Thankfully, everything he needed was right there before him. Except for a warm body to drink from. Perhaps that was better, because the very thought of a warm body made him think of Sorcha.
    Sorcha… What would she think if she could see him now? Standing in a butcher shop, partaking of his evening meal. Hell, the chit had come up with the idea. And it was bloody brilliant. He wouldn’t have to face the conscience of a single whore. Nor that of a single widow. He wouldn’t deflower a single innocent.
    But the very thought of Sorcha made his body react. He’d known as soon as he’d volunteered to give her first kiss that he was dicked in the nob. She should have shrunk shyly away from him. But no. Not Sorcha. She had to throw her whole self into it. Every delectable inch of herself.
    He glanced down at the glass of life-giving fluid he sipped from a cup there in the dark. It would be so easy to blame the whole encounter on the wood sprite. But, truth be told, he’d wanted to kiss her as badly as she’d wanted to be kissed. How the devil had that happened? If someone had asked him only hours earlier how he felt about Sorcha Ferguson, he’d have said she was a very nice lass. Now all he could think was that she was a sorceress in the disguise of a young maiden, one who was bent on his destruction.
    He could still taste her on his tongue, even after his second glass of animal blood. She had tasted as good as she smelled. Why hadn’t he ever noticed her smell before?
    Three things he’d discovered about Sorcha—she smelled like apple blossoms, had freckles that he’d bet covered more than that pert little nose, and she was bent on selfdestruction.
    Alec muttered as he let himself out of the butcher shop and stepped into the darkened street. He startled when a voice spoke from the darkness. “What on earth were you doing in there?” Bexley asked. Of course, someone would catch him. And, with his good fortune, it would be the Duchess of Hythe’s grandson, a