Free What Rough Beast [Blood Oath 1] by Kari Gregg

near her, a flash of heat streaked down her spine, and no amount of arguing with herself dented the constant arousal that was becoming her new best friend.
    Not cool.
    She was supposed to be scared—No! Kate genuinely was scared of him.
    She was.
    The scar that bisected his left cheek and eyebrow disturbed her. Luc had told her that she needn't fear scarring from her time with David, that vampires didn't scar, and she'd seen twisty ropes of her mending skin smooth to threads with her own eyes. Soon, the marks would be gone. Her appendix scar was fading too, and she'd had it since she was twelve.
    Yet Garrick's scar remained, a jagged white slash against his bronzed skin.
    Kate's mother had drilled manners into her as a child, but she never would've found the courage to ask how Garrick had acquired the scar regardless of her mother's stubborn standards of proper behavior. Whatever had caused it, whatever had gotten the best of Garrick, Kate decided she was best ignorant of.
    It wasn't just his physical presence that made her heart pound when she sensed him nearby, though. It was the whole package. He seldom spoke and even more rarely to her, which was a relief because if he ever stared at her with those dead blue eyes, she might scream. During the trip from Illinois, she'd never seen him shaken, never seen him smile, or heard his laugh. He was gorgeous. Very true. But she suspected Garrick could kill and never warrant a single raised blip on a heart monitor. He had the emotional range of a Cuisinart.
    So now she was drooling over a spine-meltingly sexy Satan incarnate who also happened to be a sociopath.
    Great.
    This vampire thing just kept getting better and better.
    "Now you're scaring her,” Luc said, his voice low and threatening.
    Garrick caught her staring at him and arched an eyebrow.
    Cheeks burning, she glanced quickly away.
    She was scared all right.
    Scared of the heat spreading through her hypersensitive body, scared of the electric tingle of awareness that made her feel so unbearably empty. Scared to feel all these wonderfully feral urges for—hello—a freaking vampire who had the charisma of a small kitchen appliance.
    He'd touched her.
    A casual stroke of one hand.
    One.
    And she was melting into a needy puddle.
    Yeah, that was pretty fucking disturbing.
    Garrick's grip eased on her by slow, steady degrees.
    She released the breath she'd been holding in a quiet rush and almost freaked because she couldn't tell if the churning in her stomach was relief or disappointment.
    "You're young, Luc. You've yet to experience how the need eats at your honor, your sanity. After five centuries, you too will welcome death or madness. Didn't you wonder how I found you so fast? I was in America in hopes Aidan would take pity on me and grant me the dignity of death. Had you not found Kate, we would have stood before the rebel council, you with your sword. To take my head."
    He threaded his fingers through the wispy ends of her hair.
    Kate stilled, prey sensing the predator set to pounce, and angled her jaw toward him because, God, that felt good. Oh, and because she was a silly twit. A slutty one too.
    Mustn't forget that.
    But she wanted him to tunnel his hand into her hair, pull her mouth to his. Her lips parted at just the thought of what he'd taste like, how soft his mouth would be, but so deliciously demanding.
    Wanton need skittered up her spine.
    "I would have thanked you for that kindness.” Garrick laughed, a toneless, chilling sound that made the hair on her nape stand at attention. “You may take my head yet. Mark my words—I am not to be trusted."
    His hand fisted in her hair.
    She squeezed her eyes shut.
    Her body tensed in anticipation. Oh yes, anticipation. Kate was a realist. Call a spade a spade. So what if he was a psychopathic Cuisinart? She wanted him.
    But he didn't pounce.
    Luc shifted beneath her instead.
    Garrick released her.
    When her eyes flashed open, the edge of Luc's dagger drew a bead of