His Captive Mortal A Vampire Romance - Renee Rose Page 0,41

of pinks and yellow when children are playing happily.

I try to clear dark clouds that seem to gather over certain kids—the ones who seem more troubled or difficult. At first, I use my palms to shine light and dissolve the grey, but then I remember how I hurled the ball of light into Charlie’s throat simply by thinking of it. I practice using my mind alone to direct the energies.

By five o’clock, I’m tired like I’ve been tilling the garden all day, an all over body ache like I’ve been using muscles normally dormant. But it feels good.

I walk home, my pace quickening and a silly smile coming to my face when I think of seeing Charlie.

I find him still in bed, his face even more pale than usual against the white pillowcase. I touch his cheek.

His hand shoots out to grip my wrist. I shriek and try to snatch my hand back, but he hangs on. Fangs out, he rolls to one side and pins my hand to the bed, hissing.

Then he opens his eyes. He relaxes as his sleepy gaze focuses, and he takes me in. He does not release me, though. Instead, he smiles wide enough to flash fang. “Aurelia.” He sounds like the spider who caught a fly.

“You just scared the bejeezus out of me.” I’m trembling, but my nipples have tightened, as if his aggression turns me on. I never thought I’d be into a bad boy. Is it the danger of him? Do I like to be scared?

I shake my head, not even wanting to contemplate why that might be.

“Never wake a hungry vampire,” he says sleepily, his eyelids half closing. He draws me close and kisses me on the lips before settling down beside me. His arm draped across me grows heavy.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, wondering if he meant for blood or food.

He doesn’t answer. He’s fallen back to sleep.

Drat. Disappointed, I scramble up and head to the kitchen to make another salad, since that’s one thing I can’t screw up. I eye the package of organic free-range chicken, but I’m not up for cooking meat yet. At least not meat that didn’t come out of a can or frozen carton.

My nana would be shaking her head at me. Food is the way to a man’s heart.

I stifle a giggle. What about a vampire’s? My nana’s mole sauce has over twenty spices in it, but none of her secret sauces have the necessary ingredient: blood.

Wandering back to the bedroom, I study my sleeping vampire. Perhaps he usually sleeps past sundown and has only been up early the past few days to make sure he keeps me on task. I could read more from the books he bought, but studying words on the page is much less appealing than actually doing magic. And so far, Charlie has been the best tutor.

So I peel off my clothes and don the corset and stockings. I tremble a little as I do up the hooks. I can’t believe I’m trying to seduce a vampire. Not only that, but I’m wishing he has a riding crop. If he does, we can re-enact my dream.

I’m not sure why my dream is on my mind, but it was so real, it seems important.

I climb over my vampire, speaking softly, so he wouldn’t startle. “Charrrleeee. Wake up, vampire. I have a surprise for you.”

Like before, his hands move before his eyes open, but they grip my arms without force and tug me down on top of him. The bulge of his cock nudges me through the covers, and I angle slightly, seeking the hard shape of it with my core, so I can rub my mound over it.

He cups my ass and his eyes widen in surprise, as if he just realized the state of my undress. Pushing me back up to straddle him, he surveys me, fully awake now, his fangs lengthening. “Let me see you,” he says, his voice thick.

I thrust my breasts into the air, showing off the black corset, which fits perfectly.

“My dear Tinkerbell. You look good enough to eat,” he purrs.

I stifle a shiver, trying not to take him literally.

“Stand up, let me see the rest of you.”

I rise, giving him the full view of my freshly groomed sex and the black thigh-high stockings.

“Turn around.”

I spin around, my heart revving up. “What do you think?” I look over my shoulder in what I hope is a seductive pose.

Before I can draw another breath, he’s pulled