that was undefended by her skeletal makeup, that vulnerable, soft eyelet of her throat. When he pressed in, restricting her airflow just a little, she gasped.
And then moaned like she had a delicious ache between her legs.
The male pressed in again, harder this time . . . so that he felt her throat work against the compression.
The struggle was what fully hardened him, his erection thickening behind his button fly.
The male knew what was going to happen next. They would find a darkened corner or perhaps stay here in the crush of masked people. His hands would round her waist and sink onto her ass. He would pull her in close and roll his hips so his arousal brushed against her—given her much shorter height, it would be just under those pushed-up breasts.
She would shiver and offer herself, limp and willing and open, to him.
He would tremble because of the talhman, but she would assume it was on account of his arousal.
And when he got up under that long skirt, his thick, hard sex pushing deep into her, she would come, and in that little death, as the French called it, she would never know how close she was to her actual demise.
He would not climax.
He never did.
And provided his self-control held, she would never know how wrong she was to choose him. If he failed to control himself, however? Well, she was going to learn an important lesson—only once, of course. Because the dead not only had no tales to tell, there was no more education for them, either.
“Tell me what your name is,” she breathed.
The syllables vibrated against the pad of his finger, and his heated blood, his killing instinct, amplified the vision of her in her mask until he could see each individual hair on her head and every pump of her jugular vein.
The male focused on her lips.
Slipping his enormous palm around to the nape of her neck, he pulled her headfirst into him, her body following like water poured from a vase. But he did not kiss her. Even as she dropped her head back against his hold and leaned her lower body into his own, prepared to accept his mouth on hers, he stopped before contact was made.
With his free hand, he drew her wrist up. Maintaining eye contact with her, he hissed and bared his fangs.
The nick he gave her was a small one, but it was in the right place, blood welling up and running down the pale, soft skin of her inner arm.
Her breasts pumped in that tight bustier, that shimmery powder catching the light. “Now what will you do?” she breathed.
Shifting his grip on her hand, he extended his tongue and ran it up the flow he had created, lapping what had escaped her vein, swallowing the dark wine. Her taste was acceptable, not that his standards were high, so when he reached the knife-like incision he had made, he closed a warm seal around it with his mouth.
Sucking.
Licking.
He knew exactly when she orgasmed. Her eyes squeezed shut and she bit down on her lower lip, her hard, white canines making the soft, red-painted flesh plump in submission. Her hips pressed into him and then rotated, and he imagined the sweet stinging pulses that gripped her core were more tantalizing than satisfying.
“Take me downstairs,” she groaned.
So private down there on the subterranean level. No prying eyes.
Little foot traffic, and what passersby there might be would be drugged out and disinterested in anything other than themselves.
A bigger challenge.
The male picked her up, splitting her thighs around his torso, her breasts pushing against his chest. He carried her off using one arm. She didn’t weigh much.
The female didn’t bother looking at the crowd as they departed. He was the only thing on her mind now.
The way down to the lower level was easily located, and as he headed through the crowd in that direction, she nuzzled into his neck and worked her core against his torso. When he got to the steel door marked “EXIT,” he yanked it open. The stairwell was concrete and smelled of alkaline dirt and cold mold, and the temperature dropped precipitously as they got away from the radiating bodies and whatever heat system was in force in the open area.
“What’s your name?” the female said into his ear.
Down, down, down, the echoes of his heavy boots and heavier body rebounding around. At the bottom landing, he unlatched the steel door with his mind, his will opening the