Page 59 of The Guardian's Curse

Was he jealous? She hoped so. “You saw?”

“I enjoyed watching you,” he replied.

Her cheeks flushed as she bit into a strawberry. “You watched me?”

“Of course,” he replied. “How could I not?”

“I wish you would have joined me,” she said, plunging into the frightening depths. She was tired of pretending that she didn’t want him. “Instead of just watching me.”

“I would not have subjected you to such humiliation,” he said. “Believe me, I wish I could have joined you.”

She set the heavy glass bowl aside and slid off the counter. Staring over the long stone island at him, she beckoned with both hands. “Then dance with me now.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Do you want to or not?” The question hung in the air for a painfully long time. She braced herself for yet another rejection.

“Yes,” he blurted. He stalked around the island, staring at her with those fiery red eyes cloaked in shadow. After a stiff bow, he offered one hand. She smiled and grasped it tight. His other hand pressed to her back, pulling her in close. That was more like it.

It was a bit odd to dance with him, faceless and cloaked in black. But she knew who he was now, and it wasn’t the frightening gray-skinned demon, nor even the beautiful man of her dreams. In her mind, she didn’t see a face, but she felt his shape and the powerful magnetism that pulled her close to him. His presence was a lovely blend of safety, elegance, and comfort.

Dominic could keep his fancy moves, and Paris his charm. She was blissfully happy as she danced with Alistair in the moonlight. There was no music except her heartbeat and the rustle of her skirt. With a little squeeze of his hand, he pushed her away, spun her around, then brought her in even closer. His arm tightened around her waist. There was something quiet but clear in that possessive gesture.

Mine.

He released her hand, then traced a soft line from her wrist to her shoulder. His strong fingers grasped her chin and tilted her face up. Her breath caught in her throat. “Close your eyes, Shoshanna.”

It was not an order, but a promise, a whispered midnight deal at a moonlit crossroads. Give me this, and you can have whatever you want. And wasn’t that a small compromise? She closed her eyes and breathed deep.

There was a rustle of fabric in the darkness, then a tingle as he drew close. The first brush of his lips drove all thoughts out of her head. His vampiric energy tangled around her, like a shimmering cloud of energy, a rich scent that awakened her arcane sight in an explosion of fireworks in red and pink.

A faint growl rumbled in his chest, but it only stoked the fire burning in her. She pressed herself tighter to him, welcoming the hungry kiss. His tongue danced with hers, teasing and tasting, pulling her deeper into him before he responded in a dizzying counterpoint. As he kissed her, his hands slid down to her waist, over her hips, then pulled at the fabric of her skirt. He made a sound of frustration and broke away. “The bloody thing never ends,” he growled.

She laughed and went to help, but he batted lightly at her hand. Instead, he knelt and slid his hands up her legs. A shiver rippled down her spine as he made his way up under her skirts and lifted her by the waist. Then there was the bump of the countertop and the kiss of cold stone against her bare thighs. “Don’t ruin my dress,” she said playfully as she gathered the skirt around her waist to make room for him.

He nipped at her throat, then licked her lower lip. “I’ll buy you another.” Before he could take over, she hooked her legs around his waist, pulling him in tight. “Are you sure?”

“About?”

“That you want me to kiss you,” he said. “To touch you.”

“I wished for it before I even met you,” she said sheepishly. “Are you sure?”

He chuckled and gently turned her head to the side. His cool lips brushed against her throat in a soft kiss. He took his time there, covering her neck in a thousand kisses that left her dizzy. “You make me feel things I have not felt in decades. Perhaps ever. I nearly tore Paris’s throat out because I thought he was trying to seduce you.”

She burst out laughing. “That’s why there was blood on his shirt.” With the echo of his lips burning on her neck, the question bubbled up before she could stop herself. “Why didn’t you bite me before? The night I grabbed you in the hall.”

“Because you weren’t ready,” he said.

“You think I can’t handle it?”

“That’s not what I mean.” His hand slid down her shoulder, leaving a blazing trail over her skin. “Some of us prefer to drink when our prey is...seasoned.”

“Seasoned?”

“Some vampires like the taste of fear or pain,” he said. He whispered in her ear. “I prefer arousal. Lust. The dreamy haze after orgasm when your soul has not found its way back to your body.”

“Damn, Alistair,” she murmured. Fire blazed to life between her legs. “I was plenty afraid then.”

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