“Such beautiful hair when it is not being hidden under that ugly cap. The color of freshly spun honey.” He pulled on her curls, drawing her head backwards so he could bury his face in the curve of her neck. “You smell of sweet figs. What do you taste of?”
“My God,” she whispered as he once again wrapped his arms around her and she felt her corset being jerked off her body, followed swiftly by her thin shift. In the blink of an eye she was wearing nothing more than her stockings and heels.
“You should not have followed me, Anna. I had another who was to be my willing sacrifice, so eager to feed my needs. But you have intruded upon the game and now you must pay the penalty.”
“No.” Her hands lifted to push against his chest. Or at least she intended to push. It was not her fault if they instead slipped beneath his coat to stroke over the fine linen of his shirt. “Let me go, or…”
He nuzzled down her collarbone and over the swell of her br**sts. “Or what, my beautiful prey?”
Good Lord, she could not think past the potent pleasure that was swirling and shimmering through her body. In truth, she didn’t want to think past the pleasure. She wanted to drown in his touch, in the sensation of his lips suckling gently on her hard nipple, in the sandalwood scent that made her knees weak and her palms sweat.
“I…I swear I will scream,” she muttered.
He chuckled at her absurd threat. As well he should. After all, she was ripping at his shirt to feel the perfectly smooth skin beneath.
“I do not think you will scream, querida.” With a smooth motion he lifted her off her feet and wrapped her legs around his waist. His dark eyes smoldered with a wicked amusement. “Not unless it happens to be in pleasure.”
“Oh…” she breathed.
He stilled, one hand lifting to cup her face. “You are mine, Anna Randal. From this night forward you will belong to me.”
Anna sucked in a terrified breath as she watched his teeth lengthen into fangs. Dear Lord he was going to…
Her thoughts scattered as his head lowered and she felt his fangs slide easily through her skin. There was no pain. Nothing but a heady, near overwhelming need that made her writhe against him.
“Please…” she moaned, her fingers stroking through his dark hair as she begged him to put her out of her misery. “Please.”
“Si,” he whispered, pressing her back against the wall as he positioned her and then slowly, blissfully pressed his c*ck deep into her aching body. With a strangled gasp he rocked his h*ps upward, his fingers gripping her h*ps so tightly she knew he would leave bruises on her fragile skin.
But that was a worry for tomorrow.
Tonight nothing mattered but the delicious invasion that was Conde Cezar.
Cezar didn’t need to be a vampire to sense the tension that hummed about Anna’s delicate body or to suspect that she was deliberately luring him to her hotel room for a purpose other than a bit of up-close-and-personal time.
Not that he wouldn’t mind the up-close part.
It had been one hundred and ninety-five years since his body had reacted to a woman. Not since he had taken this woman’s innocence and the Oracles had arrived to sweep him away from London.
Now he groaned with the effort not to reach out and touch that soft satin skin. To taste the delectable, fresh blood that flowed through her veins. To drown in that…
As if suddenly sensing the hunger that raged through his body, Anna unlocked the door and swiftly stepped over the threshold. Turning to face him, she made a valiant effort to appear casual.
An effort that was ruined by the pulse fluttering like a butterfly on amphetamines at the base of her throat. Not to mention that she was clutching her silver handbag as if it held the crown jewels.
Or maybe a wooden stake.
“Are you coming in?” she demanded, then she bit her bottom lip. “Oh, do you need an invitation?”
He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and folded his arms over his chest.
“Not for a hotel room. I’m just the naturally cautious type.”
“Aren’t you immortal?”
“Immortal in the sense that I can’t die of disease or old age, but a vampire can be killed.”
“How?”