She had just had the orgasm of a lifetime in the arms of a complete stranger. Not to mention allowing him to drink her blood as if she were an all-night convenience store.
She wasn't a prude, but she wasn't a slut. And this was way beyond slutty.
It was . . . superslutty.
"Of course I'm blushing," she muttered, tugging the blanket up to her chin.
Okay, it was closing the door after the horse had escaped, but it made her feel better.
A tiny frown tugged at his brows. "What happened between us embarrassed you?"
She heaved a sigh. "Look, I don't know what kind of woman you usually pick up for a snack, but I don't... indulge in this sort of tiling with someone I just met. Especially when that someone happens to be a vampire who kidnapped me."
The beautiful bronzed features took on that aloof expression. It was an expression she was beginning to suspect he used as an unconscious defensive mechanism.
No doubt one of her many psychiatrists over the years would call it "blocking."
"I don't pick up women at all. It is far more convenient to procure what I need from the blood bank." There was an edge to his voice, almost as if she had managed to wound him. Which was ridiculous. Was it even possible to hurt a vampire's feelings? "But there is no shame in sharing such intimacy. There has been an attraction between us from the first moment."
"It doesn't change the fact that we're strangers, or that you're holding me against my will."
Styx gave an impatient sound as his hand cupped her chin and he forced her to meet his glittering gaze.
"I crossed paths with Salvatore tonight, angel. He is a dangerous pureblood and he is desperate to have you in his power. If I released you, I do not doubt he would make you his prisoner."
He was touching her face. Nothing more, but it sent a sizzling wave of excitement racing through her.
Holy cow. She had to physically stop herself from reaching up to tug that glorious hair from his braid.
Stop this, Darcy Smith, she told herself sternly.
Her very life might be in danger and all she could think about was this testosterone-blessed vampire.
"I'm not completely helpless," she muttered.
"Perhaps not, but you are no match for a werewolf of his strength."
"Would being his prisoner be so much different from being yours?"
This time there was no mistaking his sharp hiss. If she hadn't wounded him, she had at least managed to offend him.
"I have offered you no harm," he said in a stiff tone. "Indeed, I have done everything in my power to provide you with comfort."
Despite the absurd pang of guilt, Darcy refused to be contrite. She was the victim here, wasn't she?
"Yes, and while I'm here in this comfort I'm losing my jobs, my rent is overdue, and my plants are dying," she charged, tugging her chin from his grasp. "I may not have much of a life, but it's mine and you're ruining it."
He didn't bother to be contrite either.
"You don't need to worry about money. I have ..."
Her hand shot out to cover his mouth before she could halt the instinctive gesture. "Don't even say it. I'm not a charity case."
His frown deepened. "It is just money. I have no need for it and you do."
"No. I earn my own way."
"You are being absurdly stubborn."