Edith and Agnes visibly shook as Misha laid into them. “Celia belongs to me,” he hissed. “You are never to taste her.”
I frowned. “I’m not yours.”
The vamps ignored me. “I didn’t drink her blood, Master. I swear it,” Edith Anne whimpered.
Agnes cowered at his feet. “Neither did I, Master. Not even a lick.”
I rubbed my face. The Catholic schoolgirls and I weren’t exactly buddies. In fact, we barely tolerated one another. That didn’t mean, though, that I wanted them turned into clumps of dust. I strode to Misha’s side and grasped his elbow, halting his tirade. “Misha, it’s fine. They only bit me. On the shoulder and . . .” I turned to look at my backside. “Damn it, Edith—you bit my ass?”
Edith shuffled back and forth, looking at her feet. “Sorry, Celia. It was an accident.”
Her wicked smile and flirty wink told me otherwise. Misha glared with the might of his master badassness. “Leave now.”
The so-called Prince of Darkness knew how to clear a room. There was a slight breeze and the whole lot of them vanished—as in hauled serious supernatural tail. I tried to leave, too, but Misha grabbed my hand. “Wait. I must heal you.”
The smoldering look Misha gave me told me exactly what he meant. “That’s okay—they’re only puncture wounds. I’ll see Emme tomorrow. She’ll fix me right up.”
Misha closed the distance between us. “They left deep marks. You should not wait to tend to them.”
“Misha . . .”
Chills spread through my body as Misha licked my shoulder to seal the wound. His tongue and breath warmed my skin. Misha had been around for over a hundred and forty years; he’d had plenty of time to learn how to touch a woman. He continued on, even though the bites had closed after the first flick of his taste buds.
I broke his hold and backed away. “Misha, don’t.” Misha was a thrill ride I didn’t want to straddle. My loneliness had become unbearable; every part of me longed to be touched. But it wasn’t his hands my body craved.
Misha’s heated gaze promised me hours of pleasure. “I’m not done yet, kitten.”
My mouth went dry. This was a problem. When it came to fighting, I’d take on anyone, anytime, anywhere. When it came to males, I changed into the superhero of dorks—a big ol’ “D” blazed across my chest and an army of pocket protector–worshipping fiends bowed at my feet. Any able-bodied female in my situation would have taken control and made Misha beg for pleasure. Where were these able-bodied females when I needed one?
I inched my way back, laughing a little too hysterically for my tastes. “You don’t really want to kiss my butt, do you? What will people think?”
A wicked smile spread slowly across his strong masculine face. As if on cue, a gust appeared despite the closed windows and fanned Misha’s long blond mane in perfect supermodel fashion. “Do I strike you as someone who cares what others think?”
I darted around, searching for the source of the breeze. My brows knitted tight. “Did you just do that on purpose?” The gleam in his “come hither and do naughty things to me” expression confirmed my suspicions. My gulp dissolved my frown. I’d already backed into the bamboo walls.
Misha continued to stalk toward me. His smoldering gray eyes accelerated my pulse, my forlorn female parts screamed to give in, and my hands itched to take my clothes off. Thank God, my mind still functioned reasonably. “Misha, under no circumstances will your tongue or lips touch my backside.”
He placed his palms on either side of my head and regarded me with growing desire. “As you wish.”
My shoulders slumped with relief . . . until I realized I hadn’t been specific enough. Misha grabbed the two fingers of my right hand and placed them in his hot mouth, instantly spiking my body temperature ten degrees. I was so distracted that I didn’t notice him yank my yoga pants down to my ankles. By some lingerie miracle, my thong remained in place. He pulled my delighted fingers out of his mouth and smoothed them over my remaining marks. I swallowed hard while he held my gaze. My body was literally shaking with need. No man had touched me like that since Aric . . .
Aric.
I jumped out of Misha’s grasp, only to land on my face and scramble away like a damn epileptic inchworm.
Misha sighed when I managed to stand and yank up my pants. “Kitten, why must you make things so difficult?”
“Misha, I don’t want this. I told you that before I moved in.”