FANGED

Chapter Thirteen

Drake placed both hands on the counter, leaning over it and getting all up in my grill. "Yes," he said simply, though the "don't fuck with me challenge" in his icicle eyes was pretty damn clear. Not that I paid attention.

Grabbing his face with both my hands, I dragged him closer to me, searching for evidence of...I don't know...decay? My eyes roamed over every nook and cranny of his handsome mug, turning his head this way and that. But...nothing. No jowls or flapping turkey neck. No gray or receding hair line. No liver spots. None of those tiny veins that look like roadway maps. Hell, other than some sexy, crinkly crow's feet around his eyes, his face was as smooth as a baby's bottom. I pulled his cheek, the skin snapping back into place the instant I let it go. Wow...seriously good elasticity.

Botox had nothing on Drake. No matter which direction I pulled, poked or prodded or how hard I squished, his face remained attractively smooth.

"If you are finished?" he growled, yanking his head away from me playing with it like Silly Putty. His eyes glittering dangerously, he scrubbed his clenched jaw.

"I...I just can't believe it." I continued to stare enthralled with him as if he was a science fair project. "You're...you...I mean...575 years?" I stuttered, searching for something intelligent to say. "But you're HOT!" I blurted across the table. Oh great! I slapped my hand over my mouth. Nothing like getting a case of mouth diarrhea. I mean, he was totally smoking hot, but I really hadn't planned on telling him that...like...ever.

Fang chuckled. "Thank you. You're not so bad yourself." His voice lowered to a deep sensual purr which flowed over me, sending little tiny electrical currents zapping down my skin. Giving me a flirty wink, he turned around and threw the two hunks of meat the size of a cow on the sizzling grill pan. The smell was amazing and my mouth began to water.

"How did you know I needed to eat food instead of...," I left the rest hanging, not quite able to say the actual word yet.

"Instead of what?" he asked, as he poked the meat with a fork.

"You know...," I shrugged, blushing redder than the tomato he was currently slicing.

He turned to me, cocking that eyebrow and for a few seconds, I wanted to shave it off. "Blood?" he teased, giving me a smirking grin.

I rolled my eyes at him, giving him a disapproving frown in return. "Yes," I bit out.

He tilted his head to one side, appraising me. "You aren't showing signs of blood lust," he stated matter-of-factly, turning back to prodding the steaks. What was it with men when it came to barbequing that they always had to play with the meat?

Oh Fang, I have been plenty lusty enough, I thought as I watched him move smoothly around the kitchen gathering up other accoutrements to go with our side of beef. This time, I was able to keep my thoughts where they belonged. Inside my head.

"Blood lust?" I asked, purposely trying to look away from his ass when he bent down to fetch a couple of potatoes out of the refrigerator drawer. I failed...miserably.

"It's when a vampire requires blood nourishment." He popped the two spuds into the microwave, pushing a couple of buttons until it started to spin and hum. Turning to face me, he crossed his beefy arms over his chest and leaned against the range. "You'll know when you have it. You will become singularly focused. Nothing else will matter but the craving." For a moment his eyes seemed to glow with a life of their own.

I blamed the butterfly reaction bubbling away in the pit of my stomach on being hungry. After all, I hadn't ate any real food but an M & M and some stale Cheetos since becoming a vampire. It had to be hunger and not the tingly sensation I get when he looks at me like that.