noted, had become
very husky. Coupled with his accent, she was blissfully aware of her
ovaries high-fiving each other. “Keep growling like that, and I’m liable
to pounce.”
“You warrant a sound beating.”
“Peter beat you to it.” She
ogled his bare torso.
“Yes, the human will suffer—“
“The human ?”
“Slumber, Keer’dra. I must
take my leave of your dreams.”
“Oh.”
“Disappointed?”
“Not every day a girl gets a dream
phantom as gorgeous as you.”
“Who said I was a phantom?”
Wicked grin melted her.
“Oh, I don’t know, glowing
moon-white hair, bluish gray skin—what’s up with that anyway? And, are
those fangs ? Sweet Jesus, I’ve hit the mother lode!” Her
brows waggled. “I need to have car accidents more often if that’s what
brings on dreams of serious sex masters!”
“Sex mast—I am a Shadow Master!”
“Whatever. Now, turn
around. It’s my dream and I’d like to check out your ass.”
Hissing erupted. Suddenly,
she was yanked into his arms, his mouth hungrily covering hers. She
melted into him, moth to flame, her singed lips parting, allowing him complete
possession. So, this is kissing . Sure beats the peck here
and there from Peter . Instinctively, Emily arched, neck thrown back as Shadow
Master swirled his hot tongue on the hollow of her throat, then trailed up to
its throbbing pulse. A mind of their own, her fingers savagely entwined
his hair, pulling him closer. Déjà vu teased, but she ignored the
tingling of vague memories.
Dezenial’s fangs lengthened.
Desire heightened. He did what he professed never to allow with her in
this lifetime that she existed. He bit deeply and tasted her soul.
She gasped, and he could feel her world spinning off its axis. Waves of
ecstasy throbbed through her and into him, exploding in a fiery sensation
forcing her to hang onto him for dear life.
His beautiful Emily did not realize
this was the threshold of Lumynari mating.
Regrettably, he pulled away,
suckling the punctures until they bled no more. Her head fell back until
she was gazing up at him. “Your eyes glow red!”
“You belong to me, Keer’dra.”
She nodded, still floating.
“No problem.” Something primal seized her. She grappled his
neck. “Don’t leave me. Please.”
“You must slumber.” He chuckled
against her hair, his hold tightening. She sagged against him, weakened
from her first real taste of pleasure. She was his for the taking; for
the claiming. “You tempt me, vixen, but I have vowed never to bring you
into my world again.” He nuzzled her neck, licking the slight wound from
his bite. Hungrily, she found his mouth. He knew she reveled in the
spicy scent of him, coppery taste of her blood still in his mouth heightening
her arousal. Almost, he gave in.
“Sleep.” He untangled her arms
from his neck. “I will stand guard over you, hidden in shadows, as
always.” Waving his hand, she slumped into his arms, instantly asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
She was marinating in men. Sip
coffee. Stay calm. Pretend I do this all the time .
Yeah, right. This was her fifth morning at a trestle table, in
medievalish great hall, and breaking her fast with thirty some odd men. Emphases
on odd. Long hair, tailored beards, that part of the visage looked
within character to the setting she found herself in. But, they wore
denim. And didn’t look too comfortable doing so. Shouldn’t they
be wearing tartans, plaids—whatever—Highland gear ? And what’s with
all their squirming? A few grumbled heatedly in their guttural
language, tugging their belt loops, offering her blushing apologies before
slipping back into their cursing as they battled their various pieces of
clothing.
Weird .
And, what is in the water ‘round
here because, they are gor-GEOUS! I could start a dating
magazine.
Hot Highlanders.
Kissable Kilts.
Sizzling Sporrans
very husky. Coupled with his accent, she was blissfully aware of her
ovaries high-fiving each other. “Keep growling like that, and I’m liable
to pounce.”
“You warrant a sound beating.”
“Peter beat you to it.” She
ogled his bare torso.
“Yes, the human will suffer—“
“The human ?”
“Slumber, Keer’dra. I must
take my leave of your dreams.”
“Oh.”
“Disappointed?”
“Not every day a girl gets a dream
phantom as gorgeous as you.”
“Who said I was a phantom?”
Wicked grin melted her.
“Oh, I don’t know, glowing
moon-white hair, bluish gray skin—what’s up with that anyway? And, are
those fangs ? Sweet Jesus, I’ve hit the mother lode!” Her
brows waggled. “I need to have car accidents more often if that’s what
brings on dreams of serious sex masters!”
“Sex mast—I am a Shadow Master!”
“Whatever. Now, turn
around. It’s my dream and I’d like to check out your ass.”
Hissing erupted. Suddenly,
she was yanked into his arms, his mouth hungrily covering hers. She
melted into him, moth to flame, her singed lips parting, allowing him complete
possession. So, this is kissing . Sure beats the peck here
and there from Peter . Instinctively, Emily arched, neck thrown back as Shadow
Master swirled his hot tongue on the hollow of her throat, then trailed up to
its throbbing pulse. A mind of their own, her fingers savagely entwined
his hair, pulling him closer. Déjà vu teased, but she ignored the
tingling of vague memories.
Dezenial’s fangs lengthened.
Desire heightened. He did what he professed never to allow with her in
this lifetime that she existed. He bit deeply and tasted her soul.
She gasped, and he could feel her world spinning off its axis. Waves of
ecstasy throbbed through her and into him, exploding in a fiery sensation
forcing her to hang onto him for dear life.
His beautiful Emily did not realize
this was the threshold of Lumynari mating.
Regrettably, he pulled away,
suckling the punctures until they bled no more. Her head fell back until
she was gazing up at him. “Your eyes glow red!”
“You belong to me, Keer’dra.”
She nodded, still floating.
“No problem.” Something primal seized her. She grappled his
neck. “Don’t leave me. Please.”
“You must slumber.” He chuckled
against her hair, his hold tightening. She sagged against him, weakened
from her first real taste of pleasure. She was his for the taking; for
the claiming. “You tempt me, vixen, but I have vowed never to bring you
into my world again.” He nuzzled her neck, licking the slight wound from
his bite. Hungrily, she found his mouth. He knew she reveled in the
spicy scent of him, coppery taste of her blood still in his mouth heightening
her arousal. Almost, he gave in.
“Sleep.” He untangled her arms
from his neck. “I will stand guard over you, hidden in shadows, as
always.” Waving his hand, she slumped into his arms, instantly asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
She was marinating in men. Sip
coffee. Stay calm. Pretend I do this all the time .
Yeah, right. This was her fifth morning at a trestle table, in
medievalish great hall, and breaking her fast with thirty some odd men. Emphases
on odd. Long hair, tailored beards, that part of the visage looked
within character to the setting she found herself in. But, they wore
denim. And didn’t look too comfortable doing so. Shouldn’t they
be wearing tartans, plaids—whatever—Highland gear ? And what’s with
all their squirming? A few grumbled heatedly in their guttural
language, tugging their belt loops, offering her blushing apologies before
slipping back into their cursing as they battled their various pieces of
clothing.
Weird .
And, what is in the water ‘round
here because, they are gor-GEOUS! I could start a dating
magazine.
Hot Highlanders.
Kissable Kilts.
Sizzling Sporrans
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