Although drinking her blood was his precise plan, Cord had just tested her at that moment to see how brave she was. He expected her to refuse then, but to his stunned reaction, she accepted. His fiery little butterfly actually accepted. That got him encouraged even more to proceed with biting her wrist.
And now, this happened.
Surely not of blood loss.
Cord replayed that sentence in his mind over and over again when he saw Amanda faint. Her body sagged like a sack of grain against the chair. A curtain of her hair covered her neck - to his relief - while most of her face was pressed against the back cushion.
Painstakingly, he pulled his mouth from her flesh and stared at her with hooded eyes, hints of passion managing to spark from it before he had them snuffed.
Blood continued to come out from her wrist in beads but he didn’t mind licking it clean. Hell, the blood could wait. Her well-being couldn’t. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake off the intense concern filling his dead heart for her.