Luther's Return (Scanguards Vampires Book 10)

He spun his head to her. “Just the fucking shirt, unless you’d rather I help you with that.” Then he disappeared in the bathroom.

Katie felt a shiver run down her spine, turning her skin into goose bumps. Her nipples hardened at the same time and she suppressed a curse. Upset with herself for her sophomoric reaction to the order, she peeled out of the shirt and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

She knew exactly why she was reacting like this: because Luther’s blood was still coursing through her. It made her irrational, impulsive. It made her want to do things that were wrong—like stripping in front of him and provoking him until he tossed her underneath him and buried his hard cock in her. There, she’d admitted it to herself. But no way would she admit that to the Neanderthal in the bathroom.

All he would do was gloat. His words from the night before still echoed in her ears.

I would have kissed anything with tits at this point.

That had hurt. Did he not find her attractive? Did he not sense the smoldering heat that sparked between them? Was she the only one who felt it? Because it was singeing her, and there were only two things she could do to resolve her current predicament: run as far away from him as possible, or get as close as two people could physically get.

And right now, she didn’t want to run. She wanted Luther, even if he didn’t want her. And she would use all the feminine wiles at her disposal to get what she wanted.





24


Luther wrung out the washcloth he’d found in the cabinet under the sink and snatched a towel from the rack. He stared into the mirror, but there was no reflection. Not that he needed a mirror to tell him what he already knew: his vampire side was about to break through the surface and make him do things he would regret later. Because another minute in Katie’s company, and he’d either choke her to death for flaunting her enticing body and provoking him at every turn, or fuck her until she lost consciousness.

I figure I’m safe as long as I don’t let you fuck me.

Her words from the night before ricocheted in his head like a misfired bullet. She knew full well that he wanted her, and she used that knowledge to manipulate him. To play him.

God, he’d even started to care about what happened to her. When the prison guard had stabbed her, his heart had stopped for fear of being too late to save her.

Luther grunted to himself and walked back into the bedroom. Katie lay on the bed, propped up by two pillows. She’d taken off the shirt, but still wore her bra. Keeping his eyes down, he approached and sat on the edge of the bed.

Without a word, he brought the wet washcloth to her wound and wiped over it.

She jerked back.

“Still hurting?” he asked, surprised. The healing process should be almost complete.

“Just cold.”

He stopped himself short from apologizing for not having thought of using warm water. He was no fucking nurse. “Hmm.”

Carefully, he wiped away the encrusted blood, laying bare the skin beneath. It looked red and angry, still not fully healed. The wound had been deep and the blood he’d given her had gone to her internal organs first, repairing them, but the skin on the outside had still not fully regenerated.

“Will it leave scars?”

“I can make sure it won’t.” By either giving her more blood, or treating the wound from the exterior.

“How?”

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes for the first time since reentering the room. “Your brother is a vampire. You must know how.”

Her eyelashes fluttered briefly, and her lips parted just a fraction. Her breath filled the air between them. “Oh.”

“Up to you,” he said, shrugging as if he didn’t care what she decided, when in fact, he wanted her to say yes. Wanted her to allow him this tiny piece of pleasure.

“I mean, if you don’t mind,” she said hesitantly. “It would be nice not to have a scar there.”

He’d hoped for it, hoped that she was vain enough not to want her perfect body marred by a scar that would be visible if she wore a swimsuit—or made love to a man.

“Fine then.”

He laid the washcloth on the bedside table and patted the wound dry with the towel. He noticed his hand trembling with anticipation, his gums itching, his mouth salivating. Seconds passed.

“If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine. It’s not like it really matters. I mean…”

Luther dropped his head to her stomach and brought his lips to hover over her stab wound. “Don’t talk.”

Closing his eyes, he allowed his tongue to swipe over her skin, coating it with his saliva. The special properties in it would assure that her skin healed perfectly. Slowly and gently, he licked the area, enjoying the warmth of her flesh and the taste of her skin. No more blood was seeping from the wound, but he could taste it anyway. A microscopic layer of residue still coated her skin, allowing him to get a taste of what it would be like to drink from her.

A shudder traveled down his spine and sent a spear of electricity into his balls. He knew exactly what was coming now.