Crescent Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,50

anymore. Or maybe again. He blew up."

Adam glanced out the window, then back. "You're not makin' any sense."

"I saw Charlie, chased him to St. Louis Number One - "

"You nuts? Never go there alone."

I hadn't been alone, but that was beside the point

"Charlie released a woman from her crypt According to the obituary, she died two days ago, but she was walking pretty well last night"

"No one gets buried so quickly."

"That's all you've got to say?"

He touched my forehead. I slapped his hand away. "I'm not feverish or insane."

"You saw Charlie and a dead woman walk; then they blew up."

OK, when it was spoken out loud, I did sound nuts.

"And you think they were vampires?"

"Maybe. Cassandra said they weren't zombies."

"Who de hell is Cassandra?"

"Voodoo priestess."

He stared at me for several seconds. "My, you have been busy."

Why did his words sound like a threat?

Because I was paranoid as well as crazy. Oh well, the two went together like franks and beans.

"You don't believe me," I said.

"It doesn't matter what I believe; it's what you believe."

"I don't know anymore."

He brushed my hair from my cheek, and this time I let him. "New Orleans would spook anyone. There are ghosts here, can't help but be. But de things you're speaking of..." He shook his head. "I don't think this little old chain will protect you from them."

My chin tipped up. "You have a better idea?"

"No." His gaze lowered. "I like this one."

In a surprising movement, he dropped to his knees and tugged my jeans over my hips. His breath brushed my thighs, warm and inviting. My underwear followed the same path to the floor.

"Would you tell me if you were?" I asked.

"What?" When he glanced up, his eyes were unfocused, his mouth still swollen from mine.

Having him kneel at my feet, so gorgeous and tousled and aroused, filled my mind with too many possibilities. Nevertheless, I managed to choke out the question: "Would you tell me if you were a vampire?"

"Of course not, cher."

Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth against the fleur-de-lis chain, against my belly, and suckled. Skin, metal, tongue, and teeth - the sensation was exquisite.

If he were a vampire, wouldn't he be -

Catching fire? Disintegrating into dust? Howling? Crying? Running?

He did none of them. But he did do other things.

The chain - both hot and damp, dry and cool - slipped from his mouth. He kissed me again. Lower.

My legs wobbled, and he cupped my hips with his big hands, pinning me to the wall as his tongue did amazing things.

Maybe he was a vampire? Maybe I didn't give a shit

My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him closer, urging him on. How could a tongue be so hard and yet so soft, so clever and yet so tentative? Whenever I was on the verge of orgasm, he retreated just enough so I never came, driving me closer, higher, with the next stroke.

"I think you've had enough."

My eyes snapped open. He stood in front of me.

"No." I reached for him, and he took my hand, tugging me to the sleeping bag.

"We're not done." He gave me a little shove, and I toppled onto the covers.

As he stood over me in the faint moonlight, I memorized every ripple and curve. Just looking at him made me breathe a little harder.

He followed me down, brushed a stray strand of hair from my breast. "When you come, it's all I can do not to come, too, just watchin' you."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I said nothing.

"You're so alive." He laid his palm against my chest, dark against light, and pressed until I was supine. "So warm and soft and - "

He broke off, took a deep breath, and let it out "I can't sleep nights thinkin' of being inside of you."

In one swift movement he covered my body with his and slipped in. I bit my lip to keep from making an embarrassing yummy noise at the contact

"You're so tight" His forehead dropped against mine as he struggled for control.

"Sorry."

"No." A puff of air that was laughter hit my cheek. "That's good, so good."

I tried to relax, but I couldn't keep still. I had to have friction. My hips had a will of their own, pumping against him.

He cupped my breast in one hand, pressed his thumb to my skin. "I can feel your heart beat." His eyes seemed to reflect the three-quarter moon, glowing silver, fading to blue. "Makes me want to do all sorts of bad things."

"Just do me."