Bittersweet Blood (The Order #1)

His long legs stretched out in front of him. Without thought, Tara laid her palm on his thigh. The muscle tensed beneath her fingers, and his hand came down and rested on hers.

“I’d hoped you would come to me because you couldn’t stay away.” He picked up her hand and rubbed his fingers along the sensitive skin of her palm. “Each night I’ve awoken and fought the urge to come to you. Claim you. Force you to accept what you are and what we could have.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, stroked his velvet tongue along each one until tremors ran through her body. “Each night I stayed away by telling myself you needed time.” He sucked one finger deep into his mouth, and Tara moaned with desire. He bit down with his teeth and heat flashed through her. She sat immobile, melting as he placed her hand back on his thigh, pressing it down with his palm.

“I wanted to come to you,” she said. “In fact, I never wanted you to go in the first place.”

“I believe you want me, but I also think that you’re far from happy about that. You’d still prefer me to be a nice, normal person.” There was a definite sneer in his voice when he spoke the word “normal.” “You still can’t accept what I am.”

“Yes. No.” She frowned. “Maybe. I have accepted what you are. It’s me I have the problem with. But I’m trying.” Flickers of anger stirred within her. “Is it so difficult to understand? Having demon blood has taken away everything I thought I wanted. I have to come to terms with that, but I’m working on it, okay?”

“How are you working on it?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Every day, I stand in front of the mirror and chant, ‘I am a demon,’ fifty times. I am a demon,” she added for good measure. “There you see, I’ve been practicing, and now I can say it without hysterics.”

“Very impressive.

“Well,” she said. “If you liked that one, how about this—‘my lover is a vampire.’”

She watched him as she spoke the words. Flames leapt in his eyes and he reached for her, pulling her onto his lap and burrowing his head in her neck. His mouth was at her throat, fangs scraping across her flesh. He didn’t bite.

“Am I your lover?” he murmured against her skin.

Her body tightened in anticipation, and she realized she wanted him to bite her, wanted to feel him inside her. Deep inside.

“I hope so,” she replied. She wriggled around until her knees rested on either side of his hips and her breasts brushed against his broad chest. Raising her head, she offered her throat to his hungry gaze.

He pressed his finger over her pulse point, and the blood throbbed in her veins.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I taste you one more time, and I’ll not let you go.”

For a moment, she hesitated—was this what she really wanted? Staring into that lean predatory face so close to hers she saw the hunger clear in his silver eyes, and knew she was past the point of having a choice. “That sounds good to me,” she murmured and kissed him.

He kissed her back, his lips moving down the line of her jaw. One large hand slipped around the back of her neck, tipping her head to give him access to her throat. He pulled her closer and she went willingly, trusting him implicitly. Her breasts tightened in anticipation, and a pulse throbbed between her thighs. “Please, Christian.”

He kissed her skin softly. His mouth opened, he swiped his tongue over her, steadied her with his hand on her head, and his fangs sank into her throat.

This time she had no urge to fight him. Eyes closed, she gave herself over to the rhythmic tugging that pulled at places deep within her body.

As she relaxed against him, his hands settled on the curve of her bottom. His fingers stroked through the denim of her jeans, then moved to her hips and pulled her down harder into his lap. The hard length of his erection pressed against her core, and she rocked on him, reveling in the sensations that washed through her.

After long minutes, Christian stopped drinking. He licked at her throat, and then sat back, pulling her with him. She snuggled into his body and felt him relax beneath her.

They lay entwined, until the purr of the phone jolted her upright.

“Piers.”

Christian listened. After a minute, he replaced the phone. “Piers has heard nothing.”

“That’s good news isn’t it?”

“Probably.” He sighed. “I’d love to carry you downstairs, take you to bed, and make love to you all night long, but I think we should go make a visit to your place to see if we can find out anything about your friend.”

Tara sat up. “You think something bad has happened?”

“I don’t know, but it seems odd that she should disappear at that particular time.”

A wave of foreboding welled up inside her, and she forced herself to ask, “You think it’s something to do with me, don’t you? This is my fault.”