How was I still alive? Maybe I was dead. Maybe this was hell. It certainly seemed like hell. My stomach was cramping and burning like it was on fire. My skin felt hypersensitive and raw, as if I’d been scratching in an effort to jump out of it or something.

I tried to open my eyes, but the light sent pain lancing through them. What the fuck was happening to me?

Another gasp flew out of me as I was assailed by a full-body spasm that seemed to go on and on. I tried to shout for help, but only a tiny whimper came out. I wasn’t sure if I even could speak. My tongue felt thick, and my teeth and jaw ached as if I’d been chewing on a brick. Worse, my throat felt shredded, like I’d been screaming for hours and hours—maybe I had.

I was helpless. Too weak to get up. And in too much pain to do a single thing about any of it. I buried my face in the pillow, muffling my sobs.

Blood. I needed blood again. It was the only thing that would make the pain ease.

Fingers brushed my hair as a body lay against mine, careful not to get too close—as if conscious of just how raw my skin felt. “Feed, baby.”

There was that voice again. I did as it told me.

* * *

I shredded the bed sheets with a guttural growl. I was sweating. Aching. Thirsty. So thirsty that it drowned out the pain and confusion.

I needed to hunt. Find prey. There was prey here. I could smell it, could see it through burning, half-open eyes. But I couldn’t catch it.

With a hiss, I launched at it again, wanting that pulse beating in my mouth. I hit something hard and fell back, tasting blood—my blood. But it wasn’t my blood that I wanted. It wouldn’t quench the thirst that was hammering at me so hard there was no room for rational thought.

“Imani, stop!”

Licking my split lip, I lunged again. Crashed into something solid. Heard something crack as pain exploded in my cheekbone.

“Imani, fucking stop now!”

I sprung again. Smashed into an invisible wall once more. Again, my blood flowed into my mouth. I spat it out.

“Imani, baby, you need to calm down!”

Two sets of footsteps pounded into the room and skidded to a halt. “Jared told me you needed a donor.”

“Shit, why is her face all messed up?”

“She keeps leaping at my shield. Stay behind it.”

I didn’t understand the words. Didn’t care. All I knew was I needed to hunt. Needed to feed.

Snarling, I coiled to strike. Before I could lunge, pain pricked me in several places. I batted away the darts, needing to…to…God, I was tired.

“Feed her now while she’s too weak to fight.”

A familiar scent washed over me as strong arms curled around me from behind and tipped me onto my side on the bed, trapping my arms at my sides. I didn’t have the energy to fight and free myself. I didn’t—

My nostrils flared. Blood. I sank my teeth into the bleeding wrist that was thrust in front of my mouth. It tasted strange. Fizzy with energy. Syrupy. But good. So good.

I drank. And drank. And drank.

* * *

I woke with a blazing ache between my legs. My hips bucked and I groaned, feeling empty and restless. I was so wet; could smell the need that pulsed in my veins and drummed through my body.

The cool air chafed my naked, oversensitive skin and my painfully tight nipples. Whimpering, I squirmed and rubbed my thighs together; needing some relief. It didn’t help. The fire inside me just blazed hotter and hotter, giving me no reprieve.

My womb clenched hard. I hissed and writhed again, squeezing my thighs so tightly together it sent shooting pains through my muscles. I tried to touch myself, to take away the burning ache, but I couldn’t move my hands. They were tied together and secured to something above my head.

I sobbed in frustration, arching my back. I couldn’t take any more of this. I had to—

“Again, baby? Fuck, you’re gonna be sore.”

I didn’t know what that meant, didn’t care. Two fingers probed and slipped inside me, and I almost wept with relief. My muscles clamped around them, trying to keep them where they were. “Please.” My voice was hoarse, and it hurt my throat to speak.

My hands were freed and then a large, hot body draped over mine. The skin-to-skin contact didn’t hurt; it calmed me somehow. “Open your eyes for me.”

I tried. Light stabbed my eyes, and I winced. “Hurts.”

“Okay, baby, keep them closed for now.” A kiss was pressed to each of my eyelids just as something prodded my opening.

I arched, wanting more. And then a hard and thick cock pushed inside me. I groaned in both bliss and relief. It felt so good. Stretched me just right and soothed the ache. My body tightened around him as he fed me an inch at a time. “Too slow.” Too gentle. I needed it hard. I needed the fiery ache to go away. I tilted my hips, taking him deeper.

“Be still.”

I couldn’t. “More. Faster.” I raked my nails down his back.

He growled. Then he was hammering into me, and my teeth bit into his shoulder.

* * *

I had the worst hangover, like, ever.

Groggy, I licked my dry lips, frowning at the bitter taste in my mouth. My throat was painfully dry, my head felt heavy, my stomach was churning, and there were sharp, shooting pains behind my eyes.

Apparently I’d set out to get drunk like it was my job. I was surprised I couldn’t smell alcohol seeping from every pore. I hadn’t felt this dizzy since…hell, it hurt to try to remember. I didn’t even want to know what I looked like—it couldn’t be half as bad as I felt.

I tried to lift my head. A throbbing, head-splitting pain reverberated around my skull. I groaned.

Never again. I was never drinking again.

“Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” The low soft voice belonged to Butch. I’d never heard him sound gentle before.

Slowly, I turned on my side to face him, and a wave of nausea came over me; I closed my mouth tight, fighting the urge to balk.

He slid closer and curled his arm around me. His eyes seemed to be drinking me in, like he hadn’t seen me in years. “Not so good, huh?”

Not good at all. In fact—on top of everything else—I felt strangely uneasy. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t pinpoint what. “I feel weird.” My voice was coarse and scratchy.

He brushed a thumb over my jaw. “Weird how, baby?”