by Liza Street
The orneriest of demon outlaws is on a murdering spree, and he has his sights set on bounty hunter Gracie Boswell. Gracie's used to chasing danger, but danger's a whole lot scarier when Gracie's the one being chased. As for her inconvenient feelings for a certain vampire, well, there's hardly time for any of that when she's busy chucking charms to save her skin.
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“I’m going to find a rabbit,” Boone says.
“I have plenty of food,” I say. “You’re welcome to share in it.”
“He’s thirsty,” Carson says.
I look at Boone, then at Carson. I know Boone’s had Carson’s blood, and he’s had my blood. Boone strides off before I can ask.
“Carson?” I say. “Care to explain what’s going through his stubborn head?”
Carson clears his throat. “As you know, the feeding either hurts, or it creates, uh, feelings. And it probably don’t feel right to him at the moment, given—”
“Say no more,” I tell him.
He exhales and straightens his hat. “Phew.”
I’ve already asked poor Carson too many questions about those kinds of feelings, and I’d rather jump into the Rift than make him tell me more.
Although I have to admit, it’s more’n a little fun watching him squirm.