A Taste of Midnight by Lara Adrián Read Free Book Online

sank into her consciousness. “Mal, I’m sorry.”
    He roared a dark curse, and then his hands were on her arms, gripping her firmly, hauling her into the shadow of his powerful body. Into the face of his fury. “Goddamn it, woman! Stay out of my thoughts.” His grasp held tighter, his eyes bright and wild now, lips peeled back from his enormous fangs. “Why couldn’t you have stayed the bloody fuck out of my life?”
    Danika had never cowered before a man, not Conlan or any other Breed male. Not even Reiver, or the brutal messengers he’d sent to her cottage earlier that night. But Malcolm’s fury was a storm that slammed into her, stripping her of her courage. Buffeting her with a ferocity that left her shaking, breathless.
    He was a dangerous man. Even more so because he was wounded, deep down. Festering with a hatred that was eating him alive. She saw that now. And something more in the searing amber fire of his eyes.
    Desire.
    The interest that had sparked between them before was burned away now. Turned into something far more consuming as Malcolm’s hot gaze bore into her, then slowly settled on her parted lips. Another thought arrowed from his mind into hers, uninvited this time, dark and startling in its carnality.
    She could have told him to release her. As formidable as he was, as volatile and strong as she knew him to be, he would have taken his hands off her in an instant if she’d wanted him to.
    But that wasn’t what she wanted.
    And he knew it as well as she did.
    “Danika,” he rasped thickly, eyes flaring hotly. Then his mouth was on hers.
    The contact was explosive, staggering. It had been so long since she’d been touched, kissed, desired. Malcolm’s lips seduced, demanded, claiming hers with a passion that stole all the breath from her lungs. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the feeling, and even though a part of her had not let go of Conlan—might never fully let him go—the part of her that was still vital, still alive and warm and female, could not deny this need for comforting. For physical, intimate contact.
    The fact that it was Malcolm kissing her now, his hands stroking her arms and throat, strong fingers slipping into the fine hair at her nape as he pulled her deeper into his embrace, deeper into his dizzying kiss, only made her need quicken evenmore.
    He dragged his mouth to the sensitive skin below her ear, breath scorching, voice gravelly and dark. “Christ, lass. You shouldn’t feel this good. I shouldn’t want you like this.”
    She moaned her reply, lost to the same overwhelming need. For Malcolm. For the feel of his strong hands on her, familiar and yet so very new. No stranger could have stirred her the way he did now, and she let him sweep her into the current of his passion.
    The edge of the table pressed into her backside; Malcolm’s hard, masculine body hemmed her in from the front. Even through their clothes, the heat between them was undeniable. The thick jut of his arousal was a heavy demand against her hip, a delicious friction that ground into her in a primal rhythm, his palms and fingers stroking her breasts over the soft knit of her sweater.
    Her hands craved to explore him too. She ran them up his broad chest, following the taut slabs of muscle that felt like iron beneath his dark T-shirt. The
dermaglyphs
on his bared biceps surged with the colors of his need. Dark wine, burnished gold, and deepest indigo pulsed like living tattoos, intensifying with each fevered beat of his heart.
    When she lifted her gaze back to Malcolm’s face, she found his expression fierce, his fangs stretched long and sharp, his pupils transformed to catlike slits, all but eclipsed byscorching pools of amber. That light flashed hotter when he reached between her thighs and rubbed the seat of his palm against the aching core of her body. Danika arched into his touch, panting as he stroked her, every nerve ending exploding in waves of hot need.
    “Tell me to stop,” he