Vampire.
She remembered her dream of last night—Jack drinking the blood of the missing girl. And she recognized what tied the two men together. They were both the same.
Holy crap, he was a vampire. Why the fuck hadn’t Asmodai warned her? He wouldn’t have sent her back here just to be killed, would he? Did he think her usefulness was over and this was his way of getting rid of her once and for all? But strangely, she didn’t believe that. She thought the demon, for all his wicked ways, had gained some slight affection for her over the centuries. Besides, from her dream she guessed the vampire, Jack, had drunk from the missing girl numerous times, and she still lived, or at least had as of last night.
She had to let him do this; otherwise, it would be obvious she wasn’t under his power.
Would it hurt?
Would she be able to maintain the pretense if he hurt her? She had to.
“Come here.” He dragged her closer. His hands gripped her shoulders then he lowered his head again and kissed her. His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue pushing inside, filling her, and the heat in her belly burst into roaring flames.
Holy crap, but this guy could kiss. After the first thrust, she gave herself up to the sensual delight, the glide of his tongue against hers.
Her hips were pushing toward him and his mouth left hers.
“You like that?” he murmured. “You want more?” He laughed softly as his hands slid down the curve of her back to rest on her hips. He pulled her against him so she could feel the length of his erection pressing into her stomach, and moist heat flooded between her thighs. He breathed in. “Hmm, the scent of sex-starved nun—one of my personal favorites. But unfortunately, I’m afraid my brand of ethics won’t allow me to take you while you’re under my influence.”
Roz very nearly screamed. What did he mean? And what sort of vampire had ethics? Weren’t they evil creatures of the night, preying on the innocent? Well, she might not be innocent, but he didn’t know that.
“Sister, raise your head.”
She did as she was told. His eyes still blazed with hunger. She’d thought he was finished with her, but obviously, while his ethics wouldn’t let him shag her, they weren’t about to stop him from eating her.
One long lean finger ran down her throat, leaving a trail of fire. Fear churned inside her, and she forced her mind to blank as though she really was in his thrall. His fingertip rested against her racing pulse, and then he lowered his head and kissed her there.
A small moan escaped her lips as heat streaked along her nerve endings.
He stroked her with his tongue, tasting her, then with no other warning, he sank his fangs into the flesh of her throat.
She went instantly still, waiting for the pain. But there was nothing until the first tug as he drew her blood from her vein. She felt it like an arrow of pleasure straight to her groin.
His hands were stoking her back, shifting lower to the curve of her ass, fingers digging in, kneading her flesh in time with the tugging pull at her throat. A pulse was beating between her thighs. It was as though he was inside her, deep inside, and her muscles were clenching, tightening, pleasure spiraling.
Oh Christ, she was coming. Just from the tug of his mouth at her throat, his hands on her ass. Her body went rigid as he pulled her closer and rubbed his shaft against her, and she came in an explosion of pleasure so intense she almost blacked out.
When she came back to her senses, she was lying on the sofa across from the desk. She half-opened her eyes and peered up at Piers from under her lashes. He was staring down at her, a strange calculating expression in his dark eyes.
“Just what are you, Sister?” he murmured.
How the hell should I know?
The words hovered on her lips but she bit them back. Her throat ached, and she felt a little light-headed, but otherwise she was fine. In fact, she felt fantastic, her body still buzzing from what had to be just about the most powerful orgasm she had had in five hundred years. Wow. She closed her eyes as residual tremors of pleasure ran through her body.
She could sense him studying her; she had to pull herself together because she still had the bug to plant. She’d decided where—underneath the desk where the leg met the top—but she just needed a chance to slip it there.
So, how would a nun react to a mind-blowing orgasm?
She blinked a few times, then forced herself to sit up, ran a hand across her face. “What did you do to me?”
“Why? Did you like it?” He leaned closer. “Would you like to do it again?”
Cocky bastard. So sure of himself.
“I don’t know. I feel strange.”