Deep Deliverance: The Deep Series, Book 3 Read Online Free Page B

daylight. You said—”
    “I said you could subsist on small animals if you must. I didn’t say you should do it as a matter of course. You need to learn to feed properly. From humans.”
    “No.”
    “You feed from me after I’ve fed from humans. How is that different?”
    “It just is, all right?” Adin balled his fists. “No humans. I can’t feed directly from humans. We talked about this.”
    “Yes, but your hunger will grow and grow and you’ll eventually feed on whatever you find. Human or animal.”
    “I feed enough to take the edge off. It’s worked so far.”
    “My God, you’re stubborn.” Donte went to the window and looked out. “You must get over feeling sorry for yourself and do something with your time.”
    “I—” Adin sputtered. “You think I’m feeling sorry for myself?”
    “Look out this window, Adin.” Donte swept the curtain aside. “The same world exists outside as existed before you were turned. All its problems still exist. You have endless time. Immense resources. What are you going to do with them?”
    “In case you’ve forgotten—” Adin shot to his feet, “—I also have this teeny tiny little drinking problem.”
    “Oh, for God’s sake. How is that different from a hemophiliac, who requires a transfusion? How is that different from needing an organ donation? We give our donors pure pleasure. That’s a fair trade for what we take.”
    “No.”
    Donte threw himself back onto the bed. “You’re impossible.”
    “And you’re a goddamn liar.”
    “You need to ask yourself this: What good comes from sitting here complaining?”
    Adin turned away, too angry still to reply. Instead of leaving him alone, Donte stayed where he was. Sharing the space. Sharing the silence. That made Adin angrier still. How dare Donte sit there as if he’d done nothing wrong? How dare he lie there, earnest and brooding and sexy and…
    How dare he loll around on their bed— their bed —after a betrayal of such magnitude?
    Donte ignored his mounting ire, although he must have sensed it. Adin’s heart rocketed around in his chest, his breathing heavy. Rage made him ball his fists.
    “Relax. Breathe,” Donte suggested. “Your hunger is driving you. Tell me what you hear.”
    Adin explored his senses. Sean was there, of course. Somewhere. He’d gone for a walk, sensing rightly the trouble that was brewing between Adin and Donte.
    There weren’t many humans around for miles. Their neighbors were few, and some only used their cabins on weekends and holidays. He and Donte might not see anyone for days at a time.
    There were two…no three people somewhere. Inside their cabins or cottages. One was running water. Doing dishes? Bathing? Another baked cookies. He could smell them. Vanilla and cinnamon. Snickerdoodles , his mother had called them. How long before he forgot what that crisp, slightly sweet cookie tasted like entirely?
    How long before he gave in to his hunger and attacked one of his neighbors?
    No.
    He’d never go near them. He only had to feed on the occasional animal to keep from starvation. He only had to take enough to keep others safe.
    There were animals everywhere, and they made his mouth water. They were flying, scurrying, burrowing, nesting, grazing, and stalking. There was even a bear or two. They’d heard one digging through the Dumpster behind a local restaurant—smelled its powerful scent.
    Adin fell onto their bed, on his back, beside Donte. His teeth hurt. His belly was hollow. His skin crawled, too tight to contain the beast inside him. “Oh God, Donte. I can’t bear this.”
    Without a word, Donte opened a small vein in his arm. He’d no sooner done it than Adin was scrambling over him to get to the life-giving blood that welled from his wound.
    It was disgusting. It was necessary. It was everything in that moment when Adin had nothing else.
    No lover. No life. No family. No faith.
    Blood was the only thing that mattered.
    Blood and self-pity and making