“It’s okay, boy.” I rubbed the side of his neck.
A breeze swept in, rattling the leaves above and taking with it that oppressive feeling of not only being watched but also not being alone. The same feeling I often felt in Massene and the Pinelands. The sensation lifted from my shoulders. The icy touch on my nape faded. A short, tentative trill echoed from a bird and, after a moment, was answered. Sound returned.
Life returned.
Uneasy, I moved closer to the tent, keeping my eyes on the reddish-black leaves of the blood trees. Minutes ticked by without more strange occurrences. If it hadn’t been for the horse’s reaction, I might have thought it was my imagination.
Not too long after, Reaver rose from his wagon to take over watch for the remainder of the night. I’d tried to tell him that he could sleep, but he simply pointed in the direction of my tent and then turned away.
I went but didn’t enter. Instead of doing what I should be doing, which was sleeping, I started pacing again. My mind still wouldn’t shut down, and I was really hungry.
And I knew what that meant.
I needed to feed.
Gods.
Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back. My body was telling me, even though I’d never experienced such hunger before. And I knew that if I waited, it would only worsen. I would weaken. And if I went past that? I remembered what that had done to Casteel. And while he hadn’t fallen off that ledge, I would be of no help to anyone if I fell into any sort of bloodlust. I knew I couldn’t delay this.
I groaned.
But I also felt about seven different kinds of awkward. Sure, Kieran had offered himself, and it wasn’t because I felt that feeding from him would be wrong or uncomfortable. It was just that, well, the experiences I had with feeding—those that I actually remembered—involved…other things.
Things I only felt for Casteel—with Casteel.
What if Kieran’s blood elicited the same reactions as Casteel’s—which was nothing short of an aphrodisiac? No, I told myself. That was the effect of Atlantian blood. Casteel had never mentioned that wolven blood had the same effect.
My chin snapped down as something occurred to me. Did Casteel have that same kind of visceral reaction when he fed from other Atlantians? Like Naill? Emil?
I was really curious about that—for research purposes.
Fiddling with his ring, I brought it to my lips. Feeding had to be intense, no matter what. But what if I didn’t like the taste of Kieran’s blood? I wouldn’t want to offend him—
“What are you doing?”
I swallowed a squeak of surprise as I spun at the sound of Kieran’s voice, then lowered the ring. The muted glow of the gas lamp cast soft shadows across his face as he bent at the waist, barefoot in the entryway. One arm was outstretched, holding the curtain of the canopy back. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Watching you pace for the last thirty minutes—”
“It has not been thirty minutes.” I let go of the ring, letting it fall against the lapel of my coat.
“Your inability to realize how much time has passed is a little concerning.” He moved aside. “You need to be resting. I need to be resting.”
“No one is stopping you,” I muttered, knowing damn well that it was I who was stopping him. If I slept, he did. If I was awake, so was he. Which meant I had to be at least three times more annoying than usual. Because of that, I stomped—loudly and heavily—forward and dipped under his arm, entering the tent.
“This should be a fun night,” Kieran muttered.
He has no idea, I thought as I shrugged off my coat, letting it fall wherever it landed, and then all but threw myself down on the bedroll.
Kieran stared as he let the flap of the tent fall shut. He slowly approached me, having to walk half bent over. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Let’s try that again.” Kieran sat cross-legged beside the bedroll, utterly unbothered by the cold, packed earth. “I’m going to ask you what’s up—”
“Which you already did.”
“—and you’re going to answer honestly.” A moment later, I felt him tug on my braid. “Right?”
“Right.” I turned my head toward him, feeling warmth creep into my cheeks and my stomach flip over and over as I focused on the collar of his tunic. “I’m hungry.”
“I can get you—” Kieran’s jaw loosened. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, lifting my gaze to his. “I think I need to feed.”