Page 51 of Discovery of the Vampire
"What are you doin', darlin'?" Brogan's voice was tense and laced with suspicion, but he didn't seem surprised to find me here.
My mind raced to come up with an excuse. I couldn't tell him the truth, couldn't risk putting him in danger. "I... I was just taking a walk. I needed to clear my head." I frowned. "How did you find me?"
He ignored my question to ask more of his own. "In the middle of the night? In a cemetery?"
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's peaceful here. Quiet. And I'm not afraid of the dead. It's the living that scare me."
His green eyes bored into mine. "Do I scare you?"
"Sometimes," I admitted softly. But not in the way he would think. He…unsettled me. Not because I feared him, but because of how he made me feel. Vulnerable. Exposed. He made me want things I had no business wanting.
He walked toward me slowly, moving with that beautiful, loose-hipped, lethal grace that made my breath hitch. In my exhausted state, it was as if the shadows clung to him, shifting with every step as they caressed him with darkness. But it was his eyes that held me captive. Bright and green, glowing with that same unnatural light as the sigil. I felt the pull between us, urging me to go to him, but I dug in my heels and somehow resisted.
When he was so close that I had to raise my chin to look him in the eye, he stopped. His chest rose and fell as he inhaled and exhaled. "You're bleeding."
Following the direction of his stare to the cut I'd made on my palm, I instinctively clenched my fist, wincing slightly when it stung. "It's nothing. I tripped and scraped my hand on a headstone."
His nostrils flared slightly and I caught a flash of fang as his lips parted, tasting the air.
Shit.
"Brogan, I..." My voice faltered as he cocked his head. Tendons strained in his neck, like he was fighting for control. I quickly tucked my hand behind my back, out of sight, knowing it wouldn't do any good, but I tried to distract him anyway. "Why are you here? Were you following me?"
I swallowed hard as his gaze landed on my hip, behind which I hid my injured hand.
"Let me see your hand," he said, his voice rough and commanding.
I hesitated, my chest tight even as a deliciously decadent feeling uncurled low in my stomach. I started to shake my head, to tell him no, but he held my gaze, and I found myself slowly bringing my hand out from behind my back. Hesitating only briefly, I uncurled my fingers, revealing the long, shallow cut on my palm.
Brogan took my hand in his, his careful touch bringing a flush to my cheeks as he stared hungrily at the small cut that still oozed blood. His brow furrowed as he examined the wound.
"This doesn't look like a scrape from a headstone," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over the skin just beneath the wound. He pressed, and more blood beaded in a straight line across my palm. A wave of longing pooled deep in my belly as his tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip.
I tried to speak, cleared my throat, and tried again. "It's fine. Really. I can take care of it myself." I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip only tightened, holding me in place.
His eyes caught mine, and he shook his head slightly. Then he lifted my hand to his mouth and with the tip of his warm tongue, he licked the heel of my hand where the blood trickled, groaning with pleasure as his eyelids fluttered closed.
Desire, hot and sinful, shot through my body to tug at my womb. Again, I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let me go. His bright green eyes flashed a warning, but when he spoke, his voice was calm, almost mesmerizing. "I won't hurt you."
My instincts told me this was true. Relaxing my arm, I stopped fighting as his tongue laved over the cut on my palm, the sight both unnerving and strangely erotic. His eyes were half-lidded, a look of bliss on his face as he savored the taste of my blood.
"Brogan..." I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, as I tried to think of something to say to pull him out of this bloodlust. But he was lost in the moment, his lips caressing my skin with a reverence that made my knees weak. Then, without warning, he sank his fangs into the fleshy part of my hand.
I cried out, the flash of pain quickly giving way to a rush of pleasure that weakened my knees as he drew blood straight from my veins.Dios mío…Feeding a vampire was a sensation unlike anything I'd ever experienced before, a heady mix of pain and ecstasy that set my blood on fire and left me wanting more. Wanting him closer.
He groaned against my skin, the vibration sending shivers along my suddenly sensitive skin. I knew I should stop him, push him away, but I couldn't seem to find the strength. It was as if he had me under some sort of spell, my will bending to his desires, and I had no control over my own body anymore.
I couldn’t draw enough air into my lungs, and I found my head tilting to the side, baring my throat to him, but caught myself before I could do something foolish. Like beg him to take more. More blood. More of my body. Whatever he needed.
"Stop," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Please. You have to stop."
But he only pulled me closer, his other arm snaking around my waist as he pressed his warm body against mine. I could feel the hard planes of his chest, the inhuman strength in his muscles as he held me tight. If I tilted my face up, I'd be able to press a kiss to the clean-smelling skin on the side of this throat.
He drank from me, and the world around us seemed to fade away until there was nothing but the two of us, lost in this forbidden embrace. “Please…you're taking too much." It was a lie. Or maybe not, considering how much he'd taken the night before. But I was afraid if I didn't stop him I would lose myself to him again. And this time, I wouldn't have the strength to walk away.
Ineededto walk away, if I lived long enough.
He immediately stiffened against me, and with one last, lingering lick of his tongue, he kissed the center of my palm and then ran his nose along the inside of my wrist, scenting me before kissing my racing pulse and reluctantly releasing my hand.
