No Rest for the Wicked
Pocket Star Publishing
October 2006“I know the ways a man looks at a woman.” Her voice was sensual, a voice from dreams. It seemed to rub him from the inside. “You’re not merely admiring me.”
No, he was thinking at that moment that he wanted to rip open her shirt, pin her shoulders to the ground, and suck on her stiffened nipples till she came. Pin her shoulders hard and lick her —
“How dare you play with me, vampire!”
“What do you mean?” He met her gaze. Her eyes flicked over his face as though she were attempting to read his thoughts. Could she begin to guess the battle inside him? That in one instant the idea of being gentle was replaced with the impulse to cover her on the ground?
What is happening to me?
“I know you can’t feel this… this…” — she made a sound of frustration — “you can’t feel what you are appearing to. It’s impossible, unless –” She gasped. “Your eyes… they’re turning black.”
Black? His brothers’ eyes had turned black with sharp emotion. He hadn’t known his did as well. Was it because he’d never felt anything so sharply as his desire for this mysterious female?
He felt like he’d die if he didn’t act on that desire.
A sudden explosion of sound made him swing his head around, his body tensing. “What was that?”
She took a quick glance around her, eyes alert. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.
“You do not hear that?” Another shaking like that, and the castle would collapse. He had to get her away, even into the morning daylight outside. The need to protect her had suddenly become critical, undeniable.
“No!” Her eyes went wide, her expression aghast. “It can’t be!” She backed away from him, moving gingerly, as if he were a snake about to strike.
Another explosion. He traced to just in front of her, and her sword shot up in a blur. He snatched her wrist, but she struggled. Christ, she was strong, but he seemed to be stronger than usual himself, more powerful than he ever could have imagined. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He pried the weapon from her hand and tossed it to his low bed. “Do not fight me. The roof is about to fall –”
“No… no!” She stared at his chest — at his heart — in horror. “I am not a… Bride.”