Open.

They opened so abruptly, I started. Before I could say anything, his blue gaze caught mine, held it, trapped it. His lips lifted off his teeth; fangs lengthened and gleamed violently. I didn’t see him lunge, but the trapdoor by my head suddenly snapped open, showering me with splinters and dirt. I scrambled backward as Connor landed in a crouch, still watching me hungrily.

Hungrily.

“Not good,” I muttered, straightening. “Not good, not good.” I swallowed, tried to smile, tried to make my tone soothing and not shrill. “Connor.”

He rose slowly, so slowly I couldn’t help but stay where I was, enthralled. I felt like a deer freezing in the shadow of a predator, hoping not to be noticed.

It was not a nice feeling.

Especially when he’d made me feel safe not a handful of hours ago. But whoever this Connor was, he wasn’t human. Even I could see that, unbeliever that I was. He wasn’t playacting or deluded. He was dangerous. And struggling for control.

I put my hands up, as if that would stop him. He just kept moving, stalking toward me, backing me into a corner until I had nowhere else to go. I remembered Lucy, when I assumed she was drunk, telling me to move slowly, and Aidan telling me I could never outrun them. It wasn’t a theory I wanted to test. But just standing there didn’t seem like a good idea, either. And I was getting annoyed. I was used to people being scared of me or not seeing me at all. This wasn’t a pleasant alternative.

“Connor, stop it.”

He half smiled. It was more of a smirk, and it made him look like his twin. “I just want a little taste, Christabel.”

“What?” I scowled. “And ew.” He took a step closer. I slapped a hand on his chest. “Hey! Back off.”

He stopped but was still close enough that all he had to do was bend his head to run his mouth along the side of my neck. I shivered despite myself. His fingers clamped around my wrist, lifting my hand off his chest. His very still chest. I frowned over that while he lifted my hand to his nose, sniffing me as if I were a rose. There was a dangerous edge to him that he hadn’t possessed before.

It shouldn’t have made him more attractive.

Damn that bad-boy thing.

I should have been furious. I should not have been feeling ticklish. I tried to jerk my palm away from his gentle nuzzling. His nostrils flared. Something moved across his face, something angry and cold.

“Connor?”

“No. Can’t,” he muttered to himself, as if I were a bottle of wine turned to vinegar. He tilted his head. “But …”

And then he was pressed against me and I was pressed against the wall and there was nothing but his mouth on mine. His palms were flat against the wooden boards on either side of my head. I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted.

I didn’t want to.

Instead I kissed him back.

A lot.

His kisses were the opposite of his laid-back, friendly personality. They were wild and burned all the way down to my knees. I barely had time to catch my breath between kisses. His tongue touched mine, I gently bit his lower lip, he made a sound in the back of his throat that made me feel faint.

And then he pulled away, still leaning on the wall, head next to mine. His hair tickled my cheek and his hands were clenched into fists. His eyes sparked like embers.

“Connor?”

He didn’t say anything but I knew he was fighting some kind of battle. He wanted to advance, wanted to retreat, wanted something I couldn’t recognize and didn’t know how to give him.

“Are you okay?”

When he finally spoke, it was like his voice hurt. “No,” he forced out. “Get out of here.”

Where exactly was I supposed to go? Not only was he blocking me, but I was kind of kidnapped in the mountains. Not a lot of options.

“I’m not … safe,” he said. “Need blood.”

“Gross.”

“I’m serious,” he ground out. He lifted his head, fangs poking out of his gums, expression both hot and cold.

Before I could react, the door swung open and Aidan barreled through it. “Christabel, behind me!” he ordered.

But Aidan was technically my kidnapper, even though he’d already saved my life once. To say I was confused was an understatement.

“Christa, listen to him,” Connor said, shifting to give me an exit. His jaw clenched. “Please.”

It was the “please” that galvanized me into moving. I darted under his arm. Aidan shifted, meeting me halfway. I saw Connor twitch at the movement, like a cat suddenly focused on a fly, getting ready to swat it out of the air and eat its wings. Aidan shoved a jug toward him. It looked heavy but neither of them seemed to notice. Connor started to drink from it and I eased around Aidan’s shoulder to look at him, then frowned. Was that blood?

It was getting really hard not to believe in vampires.

Connor looked at me, made a strange sound, and then turned around so I couldn’t see him drinking. He tilted his head back to get the last drops.

“He’s a young’un,” Aidan explained. “Sunset makes them a mite ornery. It can take years, decades even, before a vampire can wake easily. He’s already done better than most. Give him a minute.”

Connor finally turned around, wiping his mouth. He looked partly chagrined and partly defiant. And mostly human again. I fought a small sigh of relief. Aidan looming next to me made it hard to feel true relief.

“Let’s go,” Aidan said.