To Kill an Angel (Blood Like Poison 3)

“My ninth grade geometry teacher, Mr. Hearst.”

“Perfect. Now,” Bo said as he leaned forward, “I’m gonna hold you so that you don’t get hurt, okay?”

Even as he spoke, Bo wrapped one arm around me, across my waist until he had both my arms pinned to my body.

“Okay.”

“I’m going to feed you from my wrist until you can learn to control your emotions, your hunger. I want you to concentrate as hard as you can on Mr. Hearst. Al your focus, Ridley, okay?”

“Okay.”

I could feel excited anticipation rushing through me, but rather than give it one inch and then get carried away by it, I closed my eyes and pictured Mr. Hearst with as much detail as I could manage.

A snapping, squishing sound penetrated my vision of Mr.

Hearst, but my hearing wasn’t the sense that threatened to undo me. It was my sense of smel . I gasped when one of the most delectable aromas I’d ever experienced flooded my nasal passages.

I inhaled, pul ing the scent deep into my lungs, the perfume so fragrant and so potent I could nearly taste it. My mouth watered profusely and I felt something sharp rubbing my bottom lip. My canines were stretched long with intent again.

“Ridley,” Bo cautioned. “Focus. Don’t think about how it smel s. Think about Mr. Hearst. Only Mr. Hearst.”

Pul ing my attention away from the smel of blood in the air felt like pure torture, like one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. But, after what felt like an eternity, I did it. I final y did it.

Although my eyes remained closed, I stil knew the instant that Bo brought his wrist around to my face. The scent was so strong that it stung my nostrils and burned my lungs.

Without thinking, I tried to lunge toward it, as if my body would happily defy my wil in order to get what it needed.

Luckily, Bo’s hold on me was so tight I barely moved.

“Focus,” he said, his voice right at my ear. I could hear the hiss of the S. I hadn’t considered how hard it must be for Bo. “Mr. Hearst.”

With teeth clamped tightly shut, I struggled for another eternity to resist my most basic urge. I fought it until the smel of the blood was no longer quite so painful, quite so powerful. I fought it until I could concentrate on Mr. Hearst rather than the crimson heaven so close to my tongue.

“Open your mouth,” he said softly.

My trembling lips parted. For a moment, Mr. Hearst was lost beneath the consuming anticipation of what I was about to taste. But Bo must have known that because he paused.

“Mr. Hearst,” he repeated.

When I was once again adequately distracted, Bo brought his wrist to my mouth. Slowly, purposeful y, I wrapped my lips around the warm flesh and drank my first sip of blood as a vampire.

CHAPTER TWO

The taste of Bo’s blood was indescribable, a thousand times better than it had tasted as a human. It was like sunshine and summer, midnight and silk, sex and chocolate al flowing over my tongue in thick waves.

It exploded in my throat like a blast of intense heat. I could feel it spreading through my body, working its way into my tissues, bringing them back to life, back to being.

After the first few gulps of liquid bliss, the excruciating thirst ceased to be the dominant sensation. Another element in the tornado of feeling rose to supremacy. It was desire.

I’d fought my overwhelming craving for Bo practical y since we’d first met, but it was nothing like this. Now it seemed magnified a thousand times.

As Bo’s blood bathed my flesh from the inside, his skin scalded it from the outside. It seemed I was enveloped in Bo, surrounded by his flesh, fil ed with his tangy scent, a scent that now seemed to overpower even that of his blood. I was hyper aware of his body at my back and I could feel the tension in his muscles as he wrestled with his own demons.

Yearning poured through me, a physical desire stronger than anything I’d ever felt. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter and fought the groan that lurked in the back of my throat. I couldn’t stop my body from squirming against him as my skin tingled with awareness and the need to be touched.

As I moved, I became aware of just how much this was affecting Bo. I could feel his hardness pressed against the smal of my back. With that knowledge, warmth gushed through me and set my core on fire. I throbbed with want of him, with a carnal need so intense I tore my mouth away from Bo’s wrist just so I could breathe.

I panted and fought for control, leaning my head back against Bo’s shoulder where he was folded around behind me. I searched my surroundings for anything, anything at al that I could focus on to take my mind off the feeling that I needed Bo inside me more than I needed to live.

I inhaled deeply, straining to maintain control of myself, but that was the biggest mistake of al . There was something delightful y forbidden permeating the air. It brought to mind images of damp skin and tangled limbs, of arched backs and open mouths.

It was desire I smel ed. Bo’s desire.

His blood was hot with it. It scented the air like a musky bouquet that made my skin feel sticky and warm.

“Ridley, please,” Bo groaned from behind me, his voice thick with a passion that matched mine. “Think of something else.”

My head stil rested on Bo’s shoulder. I opened my eyes and turned my head just enough so that I could press my lips to his jaw. I saw Bo close his eyes as he struggled to bridle his need.

“Ridley,” he repeated, his voice breathless and tortured.

I knew Bo was fighting and it was a testament to his control when he turned his face toward mine and pressed one gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth. I wanted to dive into him, but he pul ed back. After several tense seconds, I felt his tongue.

Bo licked at the blood that was smeared around my mouth and then he breathed my name. I could smel the heavenly scent on his breath. And then he kissed me.

Bo drove his tongue deep, swirling the residue of his blood inside my mouth. I felt a stab of something primal in two places at once—somewhere in my soul and somewhere south of my bel ybutton.

When Bo pul ed back, I could’ve cried. I ached for him, but I knew before he spoke that we couldn’t let things get out of hand. I was in deep and turbulent waters, and I knew that adding a new dimension to our relationship would not be wise. There was too much at stake to make any mistakes.

We had to proceed with caution.

Though my thirst for blood was somewhat less, I felt frustrated in another way. But despite that unfulfil ed feeling, my head was clear enough to be grateful for and appreciative of Bo’s restraint.

“Sit up,” Bo gently commanded.