“I don’t date vampires.”
Leaning forward, he ran his tongue over his fangs. “You should try it. I give a hel uva bite.”
Before Lyra could respond, his pager beeped. He unhooked it from his belt, glanced at it, then set it back.
Something in his demeanor changed and he nodded to her, no longer as carefree as he usual y was.
“Later, witchy woman.” And just like that he slunk back into his room. Shaking her head, Lyra continued onto the elevator.
Leave it to the crazy vampire to relieve some of the tension she was harboring. He was so unabashedly male and flirtatious, nothing he said did she take seriously. At least for a moment, she had forgotten about Theron and the way he made her quiver inside in anger—and other ways she didn’t want to name.
Maybe after a hot shower and some food, the sensation would disappear. She’d wash off the last twelve hours of exhaustion, catch a few hours of sleep, then she’d feel human again, or as close to human as she could get, considering her magic-laced genetics.
Once home, Lyra could barely keep her eyes open. The moment she slid into bed she had thoughts of Theron—his unusual gray eyes and ful mouth. Pushing him from her mind, she reminded herself that he was an arrogant cad and was not worthy of her carnal thoughts. But as she slowly drifted to sleep, the last thing she envisioned was his elegant face and long, lean form. She wondered if he were getting ready for bed and what he was wearing. Did he sleep in the nude?
Then she dreamed. Of him.
She stood on a city street, in the middle of the road. It was dark; the only light glowed from two lampposts forming large yel ow spotlights on the dark asphalt. As she walked, she noticed the flow of the gauzy green dress she wore around her calves and ankles. It was soft against her skin. She wore no shoes, but the road was not rough or cold under her feet. She continued to walk, knowing she was looking for someone.
Someone who lurked in the shadows along the deserted street.
Fear did not fil her. Just the intense thump of anticipation sounded in her body. Sweat rol ed down her back and her throat was dry. With every step, she knew he was coming to take her. He would soon have her, soft and pliant, in his arms.
She took another step but froze when she heard something rustling in the dark of the shadows. Had he final y arrived? She vibrated with eagerness. Would he be rough with her? Or gentle? She didn’t care which, as long as he declared her his own.
Before she could react, a masculine hand wrapped around her arm and she was pul ed into the black and slammed up against a brick wal . The impact rattled her a bit but she suffered no pain. Only desire, liquid hot, rippling over her body and pooling at her center. Then he was there, pressing his body against hers, his hot breath coming in ragged pants on her neck as he inhaled her scent. Theron had final y come out of the shadows and claimed her. She wanted to cal out to rejoice, but she barely had time to take a breath before he was on her, nibbling on her neck and caressing her body with his strong hands. At first he was rough, biting at her neck, kneading her br**sts, then the stroking became gentle. He alternated between the feelings, driving her mad. A bite, then a kiss. A pinch, then a caress. Pain. Pleasure. She became dizzy with the assault of contradictory sensations but she didn’t want him to stop. Here she didn’t possess any inhibitions.
Lowering his hands, he wrapped them around her buttocks and lifted her up, pinning her effectively with his body in between her legs. Holding her with one hand, he tore at the fabric of her dress to unveil her br**sts. With no time to prepare, he latched onto her flesh with his mouth, teasing her with his tongue. She couldn’t breathe as he feasted on her br**sts, scraping his teeth against her already inflamed ni**les. Jolts of pleasure surged over her, urging gasps from her lips with every rough graze of his teeth. It was delicious torture as he suckled at her br**sts. Laving his tongue over her taut peaks, he sucked in one nipple between his lips and rol ed it repeatedly.
The sensation was too much. The pleasure too intense.
Lyra pushed at his head, but it was to no avail. He continued to torment her flesh with his mouth. Unable to speak, she tried again to escape his fervent torture, but failed as he moved his other hand around her body to sink his fingers into her wet heat. This time she did cry out, as he slid two fingers into her, stretching her, preparing her for more. She wasn’t ready. He was going too fast. Bucking her hips, she tried to nudge him away, but the action only fueled his attempts and prompted him to go faster and deeper. Panting and unable to separate one pain from another pleasure, she dug her hand into his hair and pul ed. Yanking back, she twisted his face to hers. She needed to see his eyes and tel him to stop. But when she jerked his head back, she lost all sense and screamed. Half his face was gone, as if melted into the very shadows surrounding them.
Bolting straight up in bed, Lyra gasped. She had the sheets wrapped in her hands, twisted painful y around her fingers.
Sweat covered her brow and upper lip, and soaked the back of her neck just under her hairline.
Gulping in breath, she slowly let go of the sheets and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. The dream had been so vivid. So much so, her heart thudded like a jackhammer and it wasn’t from fear.
Desire ran rampant in her body.
Once her breathing slowed, Lyra laid back into bed and turned onto her side, bringing her knees up. The ache between her legs would not subside. In her dream, she’d been able to fulfil her deepest desire—being with Theron. all owing him to take her, she’d surrendered her desire to him. Giving him control of it. Something she’d never be able to do in the real world. The thought frightened her to her core. Because even when Theron had been turning into something else, something born of shadows, she hadn’t wanted him to stop.
Chapter 4
While sitting in one of the analysis rooms the next day, sweat trickled down Lyra’s chest to pool in her navel. It even beaded on her top lip. Conscious of it, she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to hide the evidence by transferring it to the legs of her pants. The air in the analysis room was stifling. Or at least it was to her. It could’ve been that Theron was sitting much too close to her for her liking. Every time he shuffled in his chair, his knee brushed against hers, igniting a fresh brew of sparks that zinged up and down her body.
Images from her dream last night kept popping into her mind.
Theron nestled between her legs. Theron suckling at her br**sts. Theron shifted, his arm pressing against hers. Another jolt of something she didn’t want to name shot up her arm over her shoulder and zeroed in on her br**sts. In seconds, she was out of her chair.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Time for a break.” Lyra paced around the room, conscious of Theron watching her. She stopped and put her hand on her hip, arching her brows in question. “What?”
“Is it so terrible to work with me?” He leaned back in his chair with a casual air she wished she could convey.
“Yes.” She continued to pace.