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She had to trust Thomas's choice and see how Jacob performed under
fire. Hopefully not literally.
    "Vial… in my bag. I need
it."
    After a quick look at her face,
he retrieved it from the side table, searched and found the medicine. The room
spun. When it righted itself, he was holding her, easing her back into the
chair. "My lady, what's the matter?"
    "That's not your
concern." His skin was so hot, so alive. She felt the richness of his
blood as if she was bathing in it, but the snakes of pain were there too,
coiling in her lower stomach.
    "I need blood. Fresh."
    "Direct from the source, or
mixed with this?" He gestured with the glass tube.
    "Mixed." Though the
idea of sinking her fangs into his throat was enough to make her arch off the
chair with a cry of yearning, pain tearing at her.
    Snatching up a pair of razor
clippers, he sliced a line across his forearm with the blade. The arterial
blood was quick and red. She wondered how he knew a finger prick wasn't
sufficient.
    Picking up the vial, he removed
the cork and brought the tube against his skin so the blood flowed into it
without further waste. It turned black upon contact with the potion. He capped
the tube and shook it to accomplish the mix, caught up the towel and swiped it
across the outside to keep the blood spilled there from dripping on her
clothes.
    "Hand it to me.
Please." Propping her head on the back of the chair, she attempted to rest
her hands on the arms in a position of dignity, though she wanted to curl in a
ball around the pain.
    He brought it to her lips
instead, cradling her face with his hand. Those vivid eyes and appealing lips
were close. She wondered if he knew his eyes turned different shades depending
on his moods. Sapphires, a summer sky, the Mediterranean right before sunset…
    She drank the bitter stuff but
reveled in the taste of him, wishing she hadn't had to spoil her first sampling
with this. The way he touched her face, with his palm so close to her fangs… He
didn't fear her in the way she hated. Despite her mockery, she didn't sense
that obsessive unrealistic fascination with her kind she found contemptuous.
She could teach him to fear her in ways that would bring her pleasure, though.
Ways that would bring them both pleasure.
    Thomas. This is insanity.
Who is this human, that he makes me feel this way? Does he understand it? Is
that what he hides from me, or is he as confused as I am?
    The colors were steadying,
reforming. Objects reflected a less surreal perspective. She needed to get to
the car, but the potion left her with a hazardous temporary lassitude. She
could simply abide here, let Thomas watch over her… No, not Thomas. This was
Jacob. She blinked. No, she couldn't stay. She'd been here too long, was too
exposed.
    Jacob had no idea what the hell
was happening. This wasn't the effect of hunger. He was certain of that. This
was illness. The woman whose power had nearly blasted him into the next room
several times during their brief interaction was now almost ghostlike in her
fragility. After she'd consumed the medicine, her fangs had slowly retracted,
her gaze returning to that midnight darkness and jade that watched him as if
she wore the soul of the night itself. The part that beckoned to a man even as
it froze his bowels in fear.
    "Trust. Thomas said
trust." There was a feverish quality to her eyes.
    "Trust must be earned, my
lady. If you allow me, I'll start earning it."
    She looked down. Following her
gaze, Jacob saw the arm she grasped was the one he'd cut for her medicine. Now
his blood was on her skin and her skirt. When he picked up the towel from the
table again, she didn't object as he wiped her palm down. There was nothing he
could do for the stain on the skirt. "My apologies."
    She nodded, watching him with an
oddly mesmerized expression. "You're fortunate I didn't wear white. I
would have taken great pleasure in punishing you for staining it."
    Such a threat from a vampire
should have been terrifying. So why