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spread his fingers wide, touching as much of her as he could reach, and nearly came in his leathers.
    Oh, man, she was good, her skin the softest he’d ever touched.
    Shifting her so he wouldn’t crush the infant, he set his mouth to her temple, breathed her in, losing himself in her scent. Connected at three junctions—nape, lower back and temple—he tapped into Meridian. White hot, potent, energy surged, flowing through her into him. Bastian bit down on a groan. God, that was unbelievable. Delicious in a way that defied description.
    He only meant to soothe her: to drain the excess, bank her energy to keep her hidden, ensure her safety, but…Jesus. He was starving, so empty inside he couldn’t control the hunger. It was too powerful, and Myst was too good. He needed more than just another sip.
    With a growl, Bastian let his baser needs take over. Guilt was nothing but an echo now—something to endure later when compulsion subsided and reason returned. Hunger overwhelmed him and, senses wide open, he pulled the white-hot energy she possessed out of her body and into his own. She hummed, the sound one of pleasure and relief as Bastian drank, mouth traveling across her cheek to her neck. Flicking his tongue across her pulse point, he took her in, damning himself with the incredible taste of her skin.
    When she sagged, he capped the flow and lifted his head, so full his fingertips tingled. A violent shudder rolled through him and, dipping his chin again, he brushed the corner of her mouth with his own. The kiss could barely be called one; the simple touch nothing more than a gentle pass, a small thank you for what she had unknowingly given him.
    She sighed. “I feel better now.”
    “Good,” he murmured, forcing his hand from beneath her shirt. Continuing to touch her wasn’t doing him any favors. It made him want to strip her down and take the sex he craved. The thought made Bastian back the hell up, putting space between them as he helped her sit up. She swayed. He steadied her, gripping her elbows, supporting her until she gained her balance. “Do something for me?”
    Myst blinked, coming out of the feeding-induced fog a little at a time. As her vision cleared, her pupils contracted, and he felt her mind sharpen. She looked right through him, reading his intent. “D-don’t go.”
    Her entreaty turned him inside out.
    Holy shit. How did she do that? Two words—simple, non-threatening, and under different circumstances? Crazy appealing. Two words, that’s all. And now, he was waffling, ready to wrap her hard against him and retreat to some place private…somewhere safe where he could lay her down.
    Exhaling hard, Bastian forced his lungs to unlock. He needed to keep her the hell out of his head and stay in the game. Not wanting to leave her didn’t mean he could stay. “Myst, I need you to stay here. I won’t be gone long.”
    Balling her hand in his leather coat, she shook her head. The movement was small, tight…still desperate despite the energy drain. The new spike in her anxiety moved through him until he tasted it on the back of his tongue.
    Swallowing the bitter tang, he murmured, “Myst—”
    “I saw that t-thing. Don’t leave us alone.”
    Bastian almost growled. Thing. She’d called his race a “thing.” Like he and his kind were no better than the monsters children feared lived under their beds or the nasty predators humans recoiled from in movie theaters. It shouldn’t bother him—her reaction was a natural one—but it did. More than he wanted to admit.
    “ Bellmia, listen to me.”
    Myst held his gaze. The desperation in her eyes almost killed him. “I’ll go with you…follow behind. I can—”
    He cupped her cheek, cutting her off. “No. I need to draw them away from you and the baby. Do as I say. Dig in. Stay here. They can’t see you…won’t be able to track you. The cloaking spell will hold as long as you don’t move. Understand?”
    “No.”
    Well, at least she was