between the sheets,” Nikolaus said as he approached her. When he was inches from stroking her cheek, he pulled back. A grin offered the acquiescence her sudden wielding of the cross dagger demanded. “Over and over until you can’t cry out any longer and the pleasure reduces us both to molten reverie.”
She cast him such a horrified look Nikolaus laughed. The last time he’d had to struggle to get a girl to accept his kiss had been, well, never. The challenge intrigued him.
“What? You can’t imagine making love like that? Let’s do it now, Ravin. I need you.”
“Back off!”
It was obvious she wasn’t going to be convinced of some early morning sex. Fine. He’d attacked her; she needed some time to get over it.
And he needed to put a finger on this weird abundance of emotion that kept him bouncing back for more and more punishment from someone he should be hating.
Nikolaus sat on a bar stool across the counter from where the witch stood. For the moment, she paged through a thick black leather book, ignoring him. But he could sense her regard. She was very aware of him.
This was madness.
Was that it? Somehow just intending to kill had visited the danse macabre upon him? For when a vampire killed he took the victim’s nightmares into him, and would relive them as if his own later. The more kills led to madness.
No, you’re not being logical. Use the parietal lobe, that’s what it’s for.
Yeah, she was tempting to look at. Nikolaus could appreciate women, instead of seeing them only as either food or sexual fulfillment. Or both. To know they required tenderness, no matter how hard a front the woman wore. Yes, a slow seduction, a journey of her body, soul and mind was required.
“What are you doing, Nikolaus?”
“Nothing.” She’d used his name. She was softening already. And he hadn’t accessed the parietal, but instead the visual, occipital lobe. What was up with that?
“You’re doing nothing very loudly. Go and sit on the couch, away from me.”
He propped his forearms on the counter and bent down to catch her elusive gaze. “No.”
“I can’t do this with you watching me.”
“Maybe that means you should save it for later. Right now you need to relax. You’re strung tighter than a bow. Your anger is so strong I can feel it. And you do need to take care of that wound.”
“What am I supposed to do about it? Stitch it up?”
“Let me lick it again. My saliva will—”
“If you so much as lay a finger on me—let alone, a tongue—I will strike for your eyes and tear them from your face.”
“You see? Such vicious anger. Where does it all come from? You need to chill.”
She slammed the grimoire shut. Black lacquered fingernails tapped the stone countertop.
“Are you a Goth?” he suddenly wondered.
“A—what? I am not!”
“You dress like one.”
“I could argue you dress the same. You’ve more black leather than a damned cow.”
“Cows are Goths?”
“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.”
Nikolaus met her furious gaze—and smiled. He loved her fire.
He knew there was a reason behind the strange feeling.
“I stink,” she finally said. “I smell like love spell and vampire. I need to wash you off me. I’m going to take a shower.”
“I’ll join you.”
“I shower with a stake in hand.”
“You’re not serious.”
She leaned forward, fluttering her lashes. “Try me.”
“I’ll wait out here.”
“No, you will not. My need to shuck off your scent leaves a convenient moment for you, the enemy, to quietly slip away, never to be seen again.”
“What about the spell? I thought you were going to reverse it?”
“If only. I can’t reverse it. The creator of the spell can never do that. It requires the owner—the one I created it for—to recite the reversion chant.”
“So who ordered the spell?”
She chewed her lower lip. Let me , Nikolaus thought.
“None of your business. So take a hike, will you? You must have a means for
She cast him such a horrified look Nikolaus laughed. The last time he’d had to struggle to get a girl to accept his kiss had been, well, never. The challenge intrigued him.
“What? You can’t imagine making love like that? Let’s do it now, Ravin. I need you.”
“Back off!”
It was obvious she wasn’t going to be convinced of some early morning sex. Fine. He’d attacked her; she needed some time to get over it.
And he needed to put a finger on this weird abundance of emotion that kept him bouncing back for more and more punishment from someone he should be hating.
Nikolaus sat on a bar stool across the counter from where the witch stood. For the moment, she paged through a thick black leather book, ignoring him. But he could sense her regard. She was very aware of him.
This was madness.
Was that it? Somehow just intending to kill had visited the danse macabre upon him? For when a vampire killed he took the victim’s nightmares into him, and would relive them as if his own later. The more kills led to madness.
No, you’re not being logical. Use the parietal lobe, that’s what it’s for.
Yeah, she was tempting to look at. Nikolaus could appreciate women, instead of seeing them only as either food or sexual fulfillment. Or both. To know they required tenderness, no matter how hard a front the woman wore. Yes, a slow seduction, a journey of her body, soul and mind was required.
“What are you doing, Nikolaus?”
“Nothing.” She’d used his name. She was softening already. And he hadn’t accessed the parietal, but instead the visual, occipital lobe. What was up with that?
“You’re doing nothing very loudly. Go and sit on the couch, away from me.”
He propped his forearms on the counter and bent down to catch her elusive gaze. “No.”
“I can’t do this with you watching me.”
“Maybe that means you should save it for later. Right now you need to relax. You’re strung tighter than a bow. Your anger is so strong I can feel it. And you do need to take care of that wound.”
“What am I supposed to do about it? Stitch it up?”
“Let me lick it again. My saliva will—”
“If you so much as lay a finger on me—let alone, a tongue—I will strike for your eyes and tear them from your face.”
“You see? Such vicious anger. Where does it all come from? You need to chill.”
She slammed the grimoire shut. Black lacquered fingernails tapped the stone countertop.
“Are you a Goth?” he suddenly wondered.
“A—what? I am not!”
“You dress like one.”
“I could argue you dress the same. You’ve more black leather than a damned cow.”
“Cows are Goths?”
“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.”
Nikolaus met her furious gaze—and smiled. He loved her fire.
He knew there was a reason behind the strange feeling.
“I stink,” she finally said. “I smell like love spell and vampire. I need to wash you off me. I’m going to take a shower.”
“I’ll join you.”
“I shower with a stake in hand.”
“You’re not serious.”
She leaned forward, fluttering her lashes. “Try me.”
“I’ll wait out here.”
“No, you will not. My need to shuck off your scent leaves a convenient moment for you, the enemy, to quietly slip away, never to be seen again.”
“What about the spell? I thought you were going to reverse it?”
“If only. I can’t reverse it. The creator of the spell can never do that. It requires the owner—the one I created it for—to recite the reversion chant.”
“So who ordered the spell?”
She chewed her lower lip. Let me , Nikolaus thought.
“None of your business. So take a hike, will you? You must have a means for
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