have to wonder what he did to her throat. She knew. She watched him close in, felt the twin pricks as his fangs bit into her, followed by pulses of ecstasy that raced from the spot. The sensations smacked into erogenous zones she didn’t know she possessed. Lighting more fires. Creating more craven needs. She greedily accepted each and every one. Actively participated.
And thoroughly enjoyed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Good .
His mate still slept. She hadn’t awakened while he’d been gone and worried, wondering over his absence. She wouldn’t know he’d donned trousers to forage through his kitchens, pillaging for anything she might find edible. He’d tried both pantries. Failed both times. He’d settled on bringing her a carafe of cold water. It probably wasn’t enough, and she’d think it tasted horrible. He’d look farther afield once night fell again. He knew what she needed - nourishment. He also knew she couldn’t get it from him.
Not for some time.
It had been too close already.
He watched Leah for long moments, inhaling each breath in tandem with her. Exhaling them with the same nuance. His heart continually beat within his chest, keeping rhythm with hers. She was on her side, curled up into a small section of the mattress, barely denting the surface. A hand pillowed her cheek.
He was so favored by the gods!
None other could have created such an exquisite female! She had a mass of dark brown hair that carried magenta streaks. Her eyelashes were even darker. Thick. Lush. They contrasted vividly against her skin. She’d have looked cherubic, except her cheeks weren’t rosy, her lips carried the barest hint of pink, and the rest of her portrayed a distinct pallor. It was especially noticeable against what was left of the silver-shaded bedding.
The sheets had been shredded on both sides of Leah. Long rents were the result of where he’d gripped at the mattress. The pillows had also been casualties. They’d been flung aside. One had burst open, showering the floor with feathers. The exquisite embroidered comforter had been another victim of their passion. It rested in a heap on the floor, the silver threads sparkling whenever candlelight hit them.
He hadn’t changed her.
He still didn’t know how he’d managed it.
Her blood was the purest bliss to him. Taking all of it had been a commanding need, reaching the highest physical level he’d ever experienced. He’d come very close to draining her, which was bad enough. Worse, was the fact that he hadn’t replenished it with any of his fluid. Despite how every cell on his body had hated him, he’d pulled from her neck at the last possible moment, while she’d writhed and screamed and shuddered. He’d thrilled to every sign of fulfillment she’d given, while the entire time, he’d held back his own.
It had been the most supreme act of will Anso had ever exerted.
He approached the bed now with light steps, although she didn’t stir. He didn’t know how long she’d be in a semi-comatose condition. There wasn’t anyone he could ask without incriminating himself. Anso had always been a leader. He wasn’t born a king. He’d earned the position. And his kingdom had rules. Laws. Regulations. Without them, there was chaos. As king, he’d issued decrees. Enforced edicts. Exacted justice for transgressing. And he hadn’t spared anyone.
But now that he’d broken a rule, he didn’t know what to do. For the first time in his existence, he felt unsure. And that was a very bad place to be for a warlord.
Akron, the leader of the Vampire Assassin League would be livid. The rules were there for a reason; inviolate, except under the direst of circumstances. Life blood was not to be drained and replaced with vampiric fluid. No mate was to be changed unless they desired it...and knew the consequences beforehand.
That wasn’t why Anso had pulled back, however.
He’d done it because Leah was perfect. And he wanted everything about her to be the same.
Anso
And thoroughly enjoyed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Good .
His mate still slept. She hadn’t awakened while he’d been gone and worried, wondering over his absence. She wouldn’t know he’d donned trousers to forage through his kitchens, pillaging for anything she might find edible. He’d tried both pantries. Failed both times. He’d settled on bringing her a carafe of cold water. It probably wasn’t enough, and she’d think it tasted horrible. He’d look farther afield once night fell again. He knew what she needed - nourishment. He also knew she couldn’t get it from him.
Not for some time.
It had been too close already.
He watched Leah for long moments, inhaling each breath in tandem with her. Exhaling them with the same nuance. His heart continually beat within his chest, keeping rhythm with hers. She was on her side, curled up into a small section of the mattress, barely denting the surface. A hand pillowed her cheek.
He was so favored by the gods!
None other could have created such an exquisite female! She had a mass of dark brown hair that carried magenta streaks. Her eyelashes were even darker. Thick. Lush. They contrasted vividly against her skin. She’d have looked cherubic, except her cheeks weren’t rosy, her lips carried the barest hint of pink, and the rest of her portrayed a distinct pallor. It was especially noticeable against what was left of the silver-shaded bedding.
The sheets had been shredded on both sides of Leah. Long rents were the result of where he’d gripped at the mattress. The pillows had also been casualties. They’d been flung aside. One had burst open, showering the floor with feathers. The exquisite embroidered comforter had been another victim of their passion. It rested in a heap on the floor, the silver threads sparkling whenever candlelight hit them.
He hadn’t changed her.
He still didn’t know how he’d managed it.
Her blood was the purest bliss to him. Taking all of it had been a commanding need, reaching the highest physical level he’d ever experienced. He’d come very close to draining her, which was bad enough. Worse, was the fact that he hadn’t replenished it with any of his fluid. Despite how every cell on his body had hated him, he’d pulled from her neck at the last possible moment, while she’d writhed and screamed and shuddered. He’d thrilled to every sign of fulfillment she’d given, while the entire time, he’d held back his own.
It had been the most supreme act of will Anso had ever exerted.
He approached the bed now with light steps, although she didn’t stir. He didn’t know how long she’d be in a semi-comatose condition. There wasn’t anyone he could ask without incriminating himself. Anso had always been a leader. He wasn’t born a king. He’d earned the position. And his kingdom had rules. Laws. Regulations. Without them, there was chaos. As king, he’d issued decrees. Enforced edicts. Exacted justice for transgressing. And he hadn’t spared anyone.
But now that he’d broken a rule, he didn’t know what to do. For the first time in his existence, he felt unsure. And that was a very bad place to be for a warlord.
Akron, the leader of the Vampire Assassin League would be livid. The rules were there for a reason; inviolate, except under the direst of circumstances. Life blood was not to be drained and replaced with vampiric fluid. No mate was to be changed unless they desired it...and knew the consequences beforehand.
That wasn’t why Anso had pulled back, however.
He’d done it because Leah was perfect. And he wanted everything about her to be the same.
Anso
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