Shadow Touched: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (A Touch of Vampire Book 1) by Becky Moynihan (great reads TXT) 📕

He stilled, flicking his gaze up to mine. At the raw pain I saw in his eyes, my chest tightened. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said and wrapped the dry towel strip around my injury. “Not to me. Not to us.” Even his voice sounded pained. When the makeshift bandage was secure, he grabbed the damp towel half to clean my blood off the floor.

The moment he started though, he paused, inhaling sharply. The shadows around him billowed outward, further obscuring his features. But I still saw. Still saw him drop the towel and slowly touch the puddle of blood. When he hissed, a chill snaked down my spine. The shadows shifted to reveal his gloved hand. He lifted it. Higher and higher. Until it was inches from his face.

I didn’t understand what was happening at first. I’d become used to his nightly appearance as Shadow Man, forgetting for a moment what he truly was.

But when he said, “Can’t . . . stop,” I remembered.

“Lochlan,” I said, reaching for him, but it was too late.

He brought the gloved finger that was smeared with my blood to his lips. Inhaling a ragged breath, he tasted the blood. His red eyes closed and he released a groan. The gutteral sound vibrated through me, curling my toes.

Instead of feeling repulsed at the primal display, I had the strangest urge to growl approvingly like a feral dog. I wanted him to do it again. To bask in his carnal nature the way I wanted to bask in mine. We were the same, he and I. Predators of the night.

I licked my lips and scooted closer to him, mindful of the glass. My entire body was on fire, kindled awake by the match he had struck. I ached to press my lips to his and taste my blood on his tongue. To finally take what I wanted most. Him.

But before my fingers could touch him, he caught my hand. The bandaged one. “Don’t,” he said curtly, and I froze. When he didn’t release me though, nervous excitement filled me. As if responding to the signals pouring from my body, he gasped for air, tightening his grip.

The bite of pain cleared my feverish mind, enough for me to stammer, “Lochlan, I-I think we should . . . I need some fresh air.” I gulped, still struggling with the need to jump him. When his grip only tightened further, I yelped, all thoughts of humping his leg gone. Tugging to get free, I snapped, “Let me go!”

The same unpredictable anger I’d experienced last night rushed through me, and I watched with morbid fascination as my nails lengthened to claws. Our eyes locked at the same time. Without warning, I lunged at Lochlan. Caught off guard by the move, he didn’t stop me from taking him to the floor.

Before I could sink my claws into him though, he reversed our positions. I landed flat on my back, my flailing arms and legs pinned within seconds. Rage built, hot and sharp. I snarled at him, baring my teeth. The longer he held me, the angrier I became.

And with that anger came crippling pain.

I howled in agony, sounding more animal than human. The pain only fueled my anger, and I doubled my efforts at attacking Lochlan for imprisoning me this way. I wanted his blood under my claws. To violently rip into his flesh. My muscles seemed to densify, lending me inhuman strength, but he was still stronger than me. No matter how hard I fought to free myself, his hold remained ironclad.

Several minutes into the struggle, he wrangled both my wrists above my head, pressing them to the floor. Still unable to pull free, I bucked and writhed against him, seeking vulnerable skin to bite.

“Kade, come now,” he suddenly said, his tone sharp and commanding. “I’m losing control.”

I was lucid enough to know what that meant. He was calling for backup. “Fight me,” I spat, jerking a leg loose only for him to corral it back. “Just you and me. Don’t let him interfere.”

“Too late,” he said, his voice so gruff that I barely recognized it. “I need him. I can’t do this.”

“Coward!” I snarled, my only thought on challenging him. I strained so hard to get loose that mind-numbing pain exploded through me. My skin, my bones burst into flames, and I screamed. It felt like my muscles were stretching. My bones shifting and bending into unnatural shapes.

The scream ended in a keening howl. My fury switched to panic, and I fixed frightened eyes on Lochlan. “It—it wants out. It’s trying to come out. I can feel it. Please help me. I-I don’t want to be a werewolf.”

“You need to calm yourself, McKenna,” he said forcefully. “Focus on slowing your heart rate. Focus on breathing. You can stop the change if you get control of yourself.”

As something pricked at my arms, chafing against my shirt, I struggled to see above me. “What’s happening? Am I growing fur? No, no, no—”

“McKenna, look at me.” At the command in his voice, my eyes were yanked back to his. “Take a breath. Good. Now another. Keep breathing.”

I did as instructed, not even caring that he was using thrall on me. I was that freaked. After a minute of breathing, I whimpered, “What color is it?”

“Silver.”

“Freaking fates.”

“Just keep breathing. Don’t focus on that right now. You’re not a werewolf. You don’t need to change. Say it.”

I clenched my teeth as more pain shot through me, hissing, “I’m not a werewolf. I don’t need to change.”

“Good. Again.”

So I did, repeating the words over and over until the fur receded and my bones settled. Exhausted, I sagged in his grip, beads of sweat peppering my skin. “Never let me touch a werewolf ever again,” I rasped, my throat raw from screaming.

Lochlan shifted his hold on my wrists to a more comfortable position. “Werewolves only experience the pain of transformation a couple days out