Page 63 of Blood Taken (Blood Mafia 2)
There's a glint of challenge in her eyes, and I know better than to bite. "I call the orange chicken and a steam bun."
"Bok, bok, bok," she says to me when I pass, imitating a hen.
Perhaps she's right, but I really am starving. Besides, a squadron of vampires probably has nothing on her psycho ass and I'm done finding out how many vampires it takes to kill a Hunter.
We'll figure that out another day.
Chapter Nineteen
Demi
The next few days I fall into my old routine. Waking to workout with Alissa, lessons with Colt or Grayson, and ending my night with Mateo taunting me over the speaker. He hasn't been bold enough to come into the gym again. I think perhaps the vampire has learned a lesson.
I'm in the middle of a shower after an intense sparring session with Alissa when I hear my door open. I turn and scrub the shampoo out of my hair, burning a hole in the tile with my pissed off glare.
What does a woman have to do for someone to knock?
A fist raps on the bathroom door.
"That's not funny," I mutter to the universe. The bitch has a weird sense of humor.
"What's not funny?" Grayson asks.
Squeezing out some of the argan oil conditioner, I run it through the bottom half of my hair. God this smells good.
"Nothing," I say, tossing my hair over my shoulder and letting the hot water rinse it off. "What do you want?"
Grayson opens the bathroom door and I growl, turning off the water and jerking the shower curtain aside. The cool air he lets in kisses my skin and my nipples harden. His blue eyes drop to my breasts.
Men. Vampire, wolf, human, or witch, they're all the same.
I reach back and squeeze the excess water from my hair before grabbing a towel to dry off. "You know, when I first got kidnapped, I thought I'd have a bit of privacy, maybe hours of isolation, but I've since learned that was a fool's wish."
Grayson closes the door, leaning against his hands as he watches me towel off in the steam filled room.
"Do you want me to leave?"
I consider him, standing there in those lethal sweatpants and that sexy black V-neck. "No, I don't want you to leave."
He takes in a sharp breath when I drop the towel on the floor. I place a hand on my left hip and strut toward him. I am not ashamed of my body. It is far from perfect, but men don't notice those things—or at least the good ones don't—especially when they want to fuck you.
Those pretty blues stay glued to my eyes and my lips curve into a seductive smile. "I didn't think you were shy, Grayson."
"I'm not," he says, letting his gaze roam over my naked body. "As much as I love this view. We have a job."
I pout. "I'm offering myself to you on a platter and you're rejecting me because of a job?"
Drama be thy name.
Grayson wraps his hands around my back and I slow walk into his embrace, pressing my skin against his clothes. He inhales deeply and lets out a frustrated groan. "I'm not rejecting you, tiger. I promise. As soon as we finish, I'll fuck you for days on end if that's what you want."
Gripping his shirt with one hand, I blink up at him through my eyelashes. "Promise?"
He tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth.
Whoever made him this hot deserves a Medal of Honor. They did the world a favor when they created Grayson.
"I promise."
