Part 3Pushed Into the Horde and Saved by the Apex Hunter

"Eat if you’re hungry," Ryder said, watching me with lazy amusement.

My lips parted, but I hesitated. The thought of eating felt wrong, but the gnawing ache in my stomach was unbearable. After a moment of desperate internal conflict, I crawled toward him on hands and knees.

Ryder routinely unbuttoned his collar, exposing the broad expanse of his chest.

I leaned over him, using my sharp canine teeth to pierce his skin. Closing my eyes, I pressed my lips to the tiny wound, carefully sipping the warm, metallic fluid.

"Easy, little monster," he murmured. He kept one hand on the steering wheel while the other slid behind my waist, pulling me a fraction closer to his chest.

Honestly, I had no idea how infected were supposed to feed. The first time I drank his blood, he had to guide my head down himself.

As the hunger subsided, my fractured senses began to piece themselves back together. I stopped, releasing his skin. Unsure of what to do next, I stayed draped across his chest, peeking up at him through my eyelashes.

Ryder looked down. He traced the faint, wet bite mark on his collarbone.

"Full?"

I nodded slowly.

"Then go back and sit down."

His hand left my waist, and I hurriedly scrambled back to the passenger seat, curling myself into a tight, protective ball.

The sky darkened, and the brutal temperature drop of the wasteland began to settle in. My body—stuck at a permanent sixty-eight degrees—grew stiff and slow. Still, I dragged myself up to make dinner for him. It was the only way I could prove my worth.

I refused to be called a parasite ever again.