Blood Trial Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers #1) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,86
forbidden though it was, like the glass was no man’s land—a place where we could meet in peace.
It filtered my hate for the man pressed up against me, leaving only the attraction I’d denied since first meeting him.
His lips brushed against my other ear and I shivered anew, knowing he was close enough to feel my reaction this time.
Kyros’s deep voice rumbled through me. “Can I buy you a drink?”
My aching body begged me to say yes.
“Strawberry mojito, wasn’t it?”
How did he know that?
I turned around in the cage of his arms again, tipping my head back. “It’s really messed up that you’re hitting on me, listening to my conversations, and reading my texts.”
The words bounced off his ego. “After the little show you put on draping yourself across the bar, I can confirm the last text wasn’t true. And you told me about strawberry mojitos when I found you passed out in the elevator after you raided my wine cellar.”
My underwear was much smaller than I’d described, true. But that wasn’t important—other than the fact we were both thinking of the lack of barrier now.
“You put me in bed? Weren’t we still under the thrall?”
“It had just ended.”
“Shit. Sorry about that.” I’d hoped my first guard had retrieved me.
He moved to my other ear. “Was there a reason you were in the elevator?”
I dropped my gaze and peered along the bar at the throngs trying to get a drink. Whether instinctively or not, the humans avoided a good metre either side of the games master.
His finger under my chin drew my gaze back. His eyes were so hard to look at when his control slipped—which I couldn’t fail to notice was a lot around me.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he said, during a lull in the music.
“Which one?” I hadn’t replied to his offer of a drink either.
I bit down on my lip in response to his growl.
I fanned my lashes down. “Why are you really here, Kyros? You’re nearly one hundred and fifty years old. I don’t want you here. You don’t want to be here. We don’t even like each other.”
“I like you just fine, Miss Tetley.”
I blew a strand of my ponytail off my cheek. “I’d hate to see how you treat people you dislike.”
His face dropped. “I sincerely hope you never have to see that. You’re frightened enough of me as it is.”
Kyros reached for the strand of hair I’d failed to blow off my cheek. He drew the butter-blonde curl back to the rest and then ran his hand down the length, right to the silky ends. He pressed his hot palm against the base of my shoulder blades.
He was really close. I was sandwiched between him and the bar, except this was a sandwich—unlike Tommy and Laurel’s—that I was becoming more okay with.
I didn’t want to be okay with it.
He’d hurt me.
I placed a hand on his chest. Kyros caught it in his free hand. I turned my face away again, and he used our clasped hands to draw it back.
“Beautiful Basilia,” The vampire ran his nose up his favourite track from my jaw to temple. He was inhaling the scent of my blood, I assumed, but the sensation set my body alight.
What had he done to me to make me hate him? I scrambled to remember it all because I knew it was bad.
Kyros captured my mouth with his, nudging my head up in the same movement to grant easier access. A sigh left me at the feel of his lips, firm and commanding. Warm with promise. I’d never been kissed by someone with obvious experience. I tipped my head farther back to deepen the connection. He didn’t waste time. A low snarl left him as he wrapped his hand in my ponytail and ran his tongue along the bottom of my top lip.
I gasped at the intimacy of the action, slipping my leg between his strong thighs. He leaned closer, pressing me against the bar. I arched back over the lip and kept contact with his lips. Not even his lips—his tongue.
What was this?
Ice poured over me and I shrieked, bumping Kyros’s nose with my forehead.
His hand shot out, gripping a college guy by the throat.
I grabbed at Kyros’s forearm, spluttering from the cold. “It was an accident.”
His eyes blazed.
Not good.
I turned and nabbed some napkins from the bar, dabbing at the wet patch down my side. Beer by the smell of it. The dress was a goner. “Kyros. It’s fine.