Page 127 of The Vampire's Thirst
Backing her against the wall, he locked an arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him. The hard ridge of his erection thrust against her belly. At a sudden loss for words, Chiara shook her head. “I wanted to talk to you. To tell you how I feel.”
“How do you feel?”
“I love you, Dax.”
He laughed. Not a pleasant sound. Rather, it was derisive, harsh, uncaring. “I feel bad for you, little witch. I thought I was fucked up. You’re worse. What’s it like to want a male who doesn’t want you? Who won’t or can’t love you?”
“Knock off your crap. You care about me.”
He rolled his hips, confirming how aroused he was. “Is this what you call caring?”
“Yes.” Her hand squeezed between their bodies so she could stroke his cock through the soft leather of his pants.
Dax seized her fingers, tightening her hold. “If you’re going to do me, little witch, learn what I like.”
“What do you like?”
“Nothing you can give me.”
“I must have something which appeals to you. You’ve used me as a feed and fuck. You saved my life. You brought my dogs here.”
“You were a body, a ready supply of nutrients.” Still grinding into her hand, Dax yanked her blouse off her shoulder and slipped her bra strap down, baring a breast. He took her nipple into his mouth, tasting it until it was a hard nub. Then he nicked her with his fangs.
Chiara threw her head back, moaning, her knees weak.
He jerked away, licking blood from his lips and dislodging her grip on him. “Your hand’s not doing it for me, little witch.” He unzipped his pants, his rigid cock jutting free. “Your mouth is much more skilled. Get on your knees.”
His voice was harsh, guttural, without feeling. Chiara recoiled at his snapped demand as she adjusted her bra and blouse. She refused to cry because he was trying too hard to offend her.
“Never mind, female. I’m not in the mood for anything you can offer.” Dax zipped up his tight leathers on his way to the liquor cabinet. “Drink?”
“No.”
“Whatever. I’ll have one.” He poured a full tumbler of whiskey.
“Maybe I don’t know what you want. Why don’t you tell me?”
“Great idea.” Glass in hand, Dax grabbed her elbow, his grip bruising her pale skin. He led her to a high-backed chair, flinging her into it. After he took the seat on the other side of a round table, he tossed back his drink, slamming the empty glass down. “You want to know why I brought your dogs to the stronghold?”
“Yes.”
His eyes were cold obsidian. “Guilt.”
“What do you have to be guilty about, Dax?” Fearing his answer, she wrung her hands in her lap.
Dax snarled, his teeth grinding together. “I made a trip to my favorite haunt. The O blud den.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a place vampires go to drink opium-enhanced blood.”
“You’re saying you’re addicted to opium?”
“No. Only those who mainline the stuff are. I drink from Aeternals who shoot up. The buzz is brief but intense.”
“Okay. You’ve got a problem. I’ll do whatever I can to help.” Her eyes pleaded with him.
Dax scraped fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to stop, Chiara. I don’t intend to stop. That’s not why you shouldn’t be with me, though.”
