the shooting.
* * *
Therese traced her lover’s face with her eyes, the features so perfect to her, so sensual, so masculine, so… compelling. Those black irises, the dark skin, the skull trim.
“Sometimes I feel…” she whispered.
“What.” Trez stroked her hair back. “Tell me.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’ve always known you.”
“You have,” he murmured.
Therese laughed in a rush. “Fate, huh.”
“Yes.” He was so dead serious that she was taken aback. “I believe in fate. Don’t you?”
Fantasies about a future with him aside, that question made her flinch. She had been born to someone who’d given her up. Just set her on a doorstep, and left her there in the cold, to die. So even as she spooled out whole destinies for her and this male, when it came to discussions of fate, she was troubled. Was she supposed to have been killed by neglect as an infant? Or was the saving that had happened, but that now felt temporary, what she was supposed to have gotten? On that theory, what if people’s fates were doled out like pieces of mail, some of which, by the law of averages, inevitably were mislaid. Destroyed. Delivered to the wrong address.
Did she get someone else’s parents by mistake? Did someone get hers?
And what of coming here and meeting Trez—
Okay, she really did not want to think right now, she decided. And what do you know, Trez didn’t seem to either—especially as he brushed his fingers through her hair again and his hand lingered on her shoulder.
Smiling, she eased down against the pillows and ran her fingertip over her own jugular vein. Then she arched, desire curling inside her core.
“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she said.
Instantly, his scent flared, dark spices filling her senses.
“Right now, I want something else from you,” she said. “And I want to give you something.”
Eyes heating, Trez moved his own body down so they were face-to-face on the pillows. “I’m hungry.”
“Me, too.”
“Take from me first,” he said as he cupped the back of her neck and urged her to his own throat. “Take from me so I can give strength to you.”
She had a moment of pause. But then her own instincts took over.
Nuzzling into the side of his throat, she ran her sharp fang over the vein he was offering to her. She had a thought that she wanted to go slowly, but hunger clawed into her gut, a reminder that it had been too long since she’d done this. Since she’d taken care of herself in this way.
And it had been even longer since there had been a sexual component to it for her.
Licking up his neck, she reached down his body and found that he was hard again for her. Ready for her. Hungry for her.
With a hiss, she reared back and then punched her fangs through his throat—while at the same time, she began stroking him between his legs.
“Oh, fuck!” he barked as he rolled over onto his back and pulled her on top.
Throwing a leg over his hips, Therese sat his erection up and impaled herself on it. As she did, she began to suck on his vein, drawing him into herself. She didn’t dare start moving, however. She didn’t want to hurt him, and as the dark wine she swallowed warmed her gut, she was struck by such a greed, she was worried she would ride him hard and rip his throat open.
But if the goal was to bring him a release, it didn’t seem to matter that she wasn’t moving.
Trez started coming without any friction at all, the draws on his jugular enough to send him over the edge. And she was glad. She was so glad.
He had known such pain.
When he was with her, she wanted him to give him the pleasure he deserved.
And maybe even… the love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
No, I better go back. At least for a little bit.”
As his female spoke up at the sink in the kitchen, Trez glanced at his phone. It was almost eight now. They had come down here about twenty minutes ago, reclothed in what they had been wearing the night before, whereupon she had had another bowl of carefully apportioned raisins with bran, and he had rocked another set of dueling slices of toast.
They’d both had milk. In glasses.
Real hard partiers, high rollers they were.
Although upstairs, in that big bed? They had nothing to be ashamed about when it came to having a wild time.
“Did you happen to get another phone?” he asked. “I mean,